Verghese had quite frankly split an atom of truth when he said 'We are all fixing what is broken, it is the task of a lifetime'.

But he'd never divulged just what an undertaking that task was.

On her drive home, Zoya had played all the classics 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun' - and by fun she meant Aditya, 'I Will Survive'- although she wouldn't if he didn't accept her apology, and last, but not least; 'I Need A Hero' and Aditya would look dashing on a white horse.

Hopeless.

She was hopeless.

This. Was hopeless.

What was she expecting? She'd waltz on in and say; 'Sorry I walked out with no explanation, you turn me on, care for me, are kind to me and deal with all my mood swings but when you didn't cup my face and kiss my forehead while you fingered me I got in my feelings and deserted you even though through everything, you've never deserted me'.

Banging her hands on the steering wheel, she let out a scream.

Why did she just leave like that? No explanation. No see ya later. Just absence.

But that was who she was, wasn't it?

"She's a runner, she's a track star, she gon run away when it gets hard" and no truer lines could have been sung, Mooski was right, Danny was right, everyone was right but her- she had never learnt the principle of staying in her entire life.

But, if there was one person she wanted to learn for; it would be him.

Turning into the driveway, she cut the engine and exhaled loudly.

It really was now or never, not to sound like Westlife, but is it all or are we just friends?

Yep. She'd definitely spent too much time with Danny.

Shaking her head, she exited the car, shut the door a little too quietly and jabbed the keys into the lock of the front door like it had wronged her in a past life.

The idea of turning the key was reminiscent of the hands of the clock- every tick, every passing second that turned into minutes that too quickly became hours was time passed that she couldn't get back, yet still, she couldn't make herself unlock the door.

A quiet voice inside her head whispered why; 'What if he doesn't accept my apology?' 'What if he doesn't want me now?'

Then she remembered the man behind the door.

Ever so good looking.

Ever so kind.

Ever adoring.

And even if he would not be 'forever mine' a second with him in pain felt better than a second without.

Before she even realised it, she was by the door of the lounge, her bag dropped silently next to her ankle and her eyes scanning the room.

"Aditya? Aditya, are you here?"

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she crossed into the lounge, eyes scanning for signs of him—a hoodie on the armrest, a phone on charge, maybe a flicker of a lamp he forgot to switch off.

But no.

The record player was spinning, slowly, lazily—an old Kishore Kumar tune warbling from the speakers like it, too, was drunk.

And then she saw it.

Him.

Slumped.
Half-hanging off the edge of the couch.
A glass tipped near his foot.
A nearly-empty bottle of Glenfiddich beside him.
One arm over his eyes like he was hiding from the world—or himself.

She stepped forward slowly, breath caught in her throat.

"Aditya?"

Still no answer.

She dropped to her knees beside him, reaching to shake his shoulder—
—and that's when she saw it.

The lipstick stain.

Muted mauve.
Perfectly curved.
Pressed into the collar of his white shirt.
Not hers. Not tonight. Not ever.

Her hand jerked back like she'd touched a flame.

She stared.
Once.
Twice.
A third time, just to be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her.

No.
It was real.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

And then, rage.

"Aditya" Her voice was venomous now. "Get. Up."

Nothing.

With one sharp motion, she picked up the half-full bottle and poured the last of it over his face.

He sputtered. Cursed. Sat up in a flash, shirt now soaked, eyes blinking against the shock.

"Zoya? What- what are you doing here?"

She scoffed, loudly and coldly all at once. Her arms a confinement over her beating heart as they crossed over her chest. "What am I doing here? In my own house?"

He sighed.

The audacity.

"You know I didn't mean it like that" he pinched the brim of his nose, his other hand rubbing his eyes. "You left, with two suitcases, I didn't expect you to be back" ever- but that part he wouldn't say aloud.

"Well I can tell that, Captain Obvious, thought you'd busy your time cheating or cross dressing, whichever it is, mauve was NEVER your colour!"

Aditya blinked at her, still half-dazed, whiskey fog clinging to his lashes.

He looked down, following where her eyes would flicker to, then he saw it- the stain.

And he laughed.

Soft. Unbelieving. Bitter.

"Is that what you think?" His voice cracked. "That I'd sleep with someone else? You disappear for two days without a word and suddenly I'm the bad guy?"

She took a step forward, every inch the storm in stilettos. His words had cracked something open within her and it was taking every ounce of strength to not fall apart.

"You" she shoved her finger at his chest now that he stood before her, eyes still zoning in on the mark of lips she wished would disappear, "Don't get to turn this on me, yes, maybe I was reckless when I left without a word, but that's doesn't mean you go out and cheat!" Her tone was indignant, the fire in her eyes burning her more than it burnt him.

"Cheat?" He was flabbergasted, the screech in his tone was almost hyena like. "How could I cheat when we aren't even together, isn't that what you throw in my face at every turn? Huh? That this is a contract marriage, that I have no right to be jealous, if I am just your husband in name sake then why the fuck do you care?!" He bellowed.

He felt her pain before he saw it. The way she faltered back a little, the way tears shone in her eyes and her jaw fell slack.

He was a monster.

Fuck.

He watched her—shoulders trembling, voice splintered—and it was like every breath he'd taken in the past hour was laced with barbed wire.

Because he never meant to hurt her.

Never meant to let it go this far.

But he was drunk and hurting and he had no idea how to even make her believe that a woman had fallen into him when she was drinking.

The truth is; he was tired. Tired of having to fight against her when all he'd ever wanted was to fight for her.

Lately, the fight had been one and the same.

Zoya lifted her chin, though it hurt to look him in the eye, she knew she had to when she said this, she couldn't bare to be wrong- and the only way she'd know is if she saw his face, she could always read him so well; whether that was a blessing or curse was yet to be revealed.

Her voice cracked, hoarse as she spoke; "Is that why you fucked me like that? So unfeeling. So cold".

He couldn't talk.

Couldn't breathe.

He stepped forward, hand out to her but she flinched away like he'd hit her.

"NO!" She shook her head, curls waving around her face. "Don't touch me" she couldn't think if he touched her, if he held her like he usually did, and she really needed to think now.

"Zoya" he beseeched, tears almost spilling from his eyes, "Please?"

"You, you didn't kiss me like you usually do, you didn't touch me, didn't hold me like I meant something to you, you made me feel things I never thought were possible, but I felt them alone, everything, everything was about us sharing things; be it the last slice of pizza, the last bit of wine or even an umbrella, but that night, that night you fucked me, what was intimate about that?"

"Was that not what you wanted? You wanted it without emotion and that's what I gave you, but it doesn't seem to matter what I provide, you will always, always find a problem with it, this isn't a fucking contract" he strode forward, hands tight around her upper arms as he dragged her into his chest. "This is real, this is me, this is you, this is us, yet you keep seeking out loopholes, trying to make sense of what this is, sometimes you want the contract, sometimes you want me, but never, do you make up your mind!" He'd shouted so loudly, his face was red, nostrils glaring and throat burning, but he didn't care.

"Was it not a contract we signed to even get into this? Was it not a contract YOU amended and asked me to sign? If you wanted intimacy, why not just ask rather than act like it was an obligation?"

He released her then, roughly so she fell back a little.

"If this was just a contract then tell me why you never fucked another man? Tell me why you sleep with my shirt on and don't sleep if you don't have it? Why drop off a file at my office? Why make me dinner when I'm sick?" His hand was in her hair before he could even stop himself, knotting the strands around his knuckles so she was forced to stare up at him. "If this was just a contract then why do I set an alarm ten minutes earlier just so I can make your coffee every morning? If this was just a contract, why have I chose never to even touch another woman that's not you? You know as well as I do that many women have thrown themselves at me, before and after our marriage, you know I refused, just like you know this stain means nothing because you know I'd never step out on you! The only way I could make this marriage a proper one was by getting you to sign your name on the dotted line, it was never about me not wanting to have the conversation, you made it impossible for the conversation to be had unless it was legally imposed!"

With fire in her eyes, Zoya shoved his shoulders "Who said I didn't?"

"What?" His face was shaded with confusion.

"Who said I didn't fuck someone else?"

And it's with that lie that she watched his world come crashing down, and with it, hers.

For a split second, he couldn't move—he was marble.

Then slowly, he stepped back. One foot. Then the other.

He didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

Just stared at her with the kind of hollow in his eyes that made gods look away.

"...What did you just say?"

She regretted it the moment it left her lips.
But it was out now. And pride—fucking pride—was a hell of a cage.

"I said what I said". Her voice was flat, defiant, trying to stay steady as her insides cracked like porcelain.

He swallowed hard, but the knot in his throat wouldn't budge.

His hands curled into fists. Not out of rage—no.

He wasn't angry.

He was wrecked.

Absolutely, irreversibly wrecked.

"Was it Nav?" His voice came out too calm, too quiet.

Too still.

The eye before the storm.

"Does it matter?" she whispered.

And that was it.

He nodded. Once. "Well then". He turned on his heel.

"Aditya". Her voice cracked. "Wait—"

But he didn't.

He walked into the hallway.

And then the bedroom.

She chased after him. "Aditya, don't. Please don't-".

"Don't what? Huh? Don't what?" His anger was like a tempest, sharp and overpowering as it stilled her in her steps.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Why did she even say that?

It wasn't true.

She knew it wasn't true.

And yet she'd said it, shot a gun like she always did without even looking where she was aiming. She had never done vulnerability well, and when she started to feel vulnerable, she became defensive, she became the coward she had always been; the one too scared to face the reality of this situation.

She knew exactly what his words had meant. She loved him, and maybe, just maybe, he loved her too, but that wasn't a gamble she was willing to take.

He grabbed a duffel from the closet. He wasn't even shaking anymore.

She stood frozen, barefoot on the hardwood floor, staring as he grabbed his charger, his cologne, the hoodie she always wore when he wasn't home.

"Im sorry". Her voice was a squeak. "I didn't sleep with anyone. I didn't. I said it to hurt you and I—Aditya, I didn't mean it—"

But he kept packing.

Not out of spite.

But because something sacred inside him had just... snapped.

He finally turned, walked up to her.

And then, ever so gently, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" He leaned down, eyes boring into hers. His lips pressure against her forehead as a tear slipped down his cheek and onto hers. " I would've let you hurt me again, and again, and again".

Her lip quivered.

"But now?" He stepped back. "Now I see what I never saw before".

He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved past her like a ghost.

No shouting.

Just footsteps.

And silence.

His hand was on the door, his back stiff. "You never loved me, Zoya, you never will, you're too busy chasing the ghost of pain Nav left you with, and as long as that haunts you, I can never heal you".

The door slammed behind him.