Page 9 of Mrs. Pandey
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Chapter 4
IRA
He promised me he would marry me after divorcing that woman. What was her name, Avni Parmar? I met her once, and God, I hated her the moment I laid my eyes on her. She thought she was making me jealous, flaunting her limp like a badge of honor. But what she didn't know was that I hadn't even tried to get Aryan back. She could enjoy whatever borrowed time she had with him. Because once that clock stopped ticking, I would take him back.
I was determined. At least I was until I got his message.
My phone chimed just as I was about to give up calling him. I hadn't heard from him since last night. My hands trembled slightly as I opened the inbox and read his message slowly, and carefully.
Ira, please listen carefully, because this isn't easy for me to say.
I've been holding it in, but it's time to be honest. I don't want you to contact me anymore. I know that sounds harsh, maybe even cruel but I'm overwhelmed. I can't carry this emotional weight anymore.
You have to understand that I'm married. Yes, that part is true. I may not love Avni, but I love my family. And for their sake, I've made a choice. A painful one. But it's the right one.
The truth is, I was never fully certain about marrying you. I wanted to be. I really did. But deep down, there was always doubt. I know that's unfair to you. I led you with confusion, and now I'm leaving you with heartbreak. I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry.
But saying sorry won't fix what I broke.
Please... for your own peace, move on. Forget me if you can. You deserve someone who chooses you without hesitation. I'm not that man. I never was.
Take care. Goodbye.
I reread it, again and again. My eyes seemed frozen on the screen.
Was he serious? I checked the number, yes, it was Aryan's. No doubt. He sent me this... this heartless message just to erase me?
My fingers itched to call him, to scream and ask what the hell he meant. He wasn't certain about marrying me? He had doubts? Did he find out I slept with Prashant?
Maybe Prashant told him everything. Maybe he painted me as some ungrateful, and selfish woman. Maybe Aryan now saw me through someone else's twisted version of the truth.
Or worse maybe he just slept with Avni and realised how pure and peaceful it felt to be with a virgin. I winced at the thought, disgusted with myself for even thinking that way. But I couldn't stop these thoughts. They crept in like smoke, suffocating me.
First, he cancelled our wedding. Now he didn't want anything to do with me? I needed answers. I needed to ask him why. Why the hell was he doing this with me?
My thumb hovered over his contact, about to dial. But just then, something stopped me, my dignity. If he didn't want me, why would I chase him?
He had said what he wanted. In plain words. Maybe I should finally take the hint and should not beg him. I don't like begging and crying. That version of me didn't exist. I had always done what I wanted no matter the cost. So if he wanted peace between us, then fine, let him have it.
Aryan had been good to me for ten years. He was a decent boyfriend except for never understanding what I truly needed. He always put duty, responsibility, and his precious family first. I was always his second choice and always the afterthought.
And yet, no matter how cold or distant he became, he was still one of the few good parts of my life.
I had no sweet memories with my parents. Nothing but hollow silence with my brother. But Aryan? He was different.
He took me to my favourite restaurants. Bought me my favourite ice cream. Snuck into my bedroom window just so we could watch my favourite movies under the covers.
We didn't have much time together in those ten years but whatever moments we did share, they were the most beautiful ones of my life.
And now... it is over.
I placed my phone on the nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring at the blank white ceiling above me. My mind drifted to Prashant. I wondered what he was doing. He was still on duty. I hadn't heard from him for years.
I hurt him because I was terrified he would hurt me first. I rejected him because I couldn't bear the idea of being rejected by him.
I grabbed a pillow and pressed it against my face, trying to muffle the sobs rising in my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to thrash, to tear at my hair. I needed to hit something, something hard, rough, something that would hurt as much as I did inside.
