• ADVIKA •

Dear Diary,

It has been 56 hours since I was immersed in the world of Aadya Chatterjee and her masterpiece, Ishaan Ahuja.

Yes. I mean it. I read the book You Belong With Me two days ago, sacrificing my sleep for the king of my heart. To be honest, in the world of boys, he's a gentleman. Ishaan was such a gem that I almost craved a guy like him in real life. And especially having a guy like Harsh in my doomed life, the urge to have him increases tenfold. Why don't men like him cease to exist in real life? Why reality has to suck a lot? Don't girls need rewards for who they are?

Girls like me and Aarvi had never witnessed true love. Because all the “true love” types exist only in books and movies. If authors created this universe instead of God, I'm sure this universe would be better than how it is.

If God was a nice author like Aadya Chatterjee, I would pray to him/her to get me hitched to a guy like Ishaan and help me develop the courage to leave Harsh.

Advika B.

***

“Advika, what's up with you?” I heard the knocking sound on my table— made by Harsh— as I removed the grin on my face.

“What happened?” I looked up with zero knowledge about what was going on around me and in me.

“I asked whether you have sent the audit report to Mr Sharma or not,” he repeated as if he was teaching the alphabet to a kindergarten slow learner. As he got the yes from me, he stepped a few micro-inches towards me and asked, “Are you okay?” with zero concern laced in his tone.

Leaning away to as much of micro-inches he moved to me in my swivel chair, I nodded a yes.

“Very good, sweetheart!” He gave me a smile that was as if someone was stabbing me with icicles while I was standing on an ice block, and left the place, allowing Aarvi to initiate her conversation.

“Did I disturb your Delulu Mode, Miss?” She asked how a nerd did when he was entering the staff room where teachers discussed question papers.

“Not you, but that—”

“Oh, wait! If you have plans to swear, remember that we're interns,” she lowered her volume as if to say, “Mind your fucking language.”

“Okay. It wasn't you, but my esteemed boss's beloved son and the man of my life—” I gritted my teeth and facepalmed while emphasizing “the man of my life” “— Mr Harsh Mathur.”

“A.K.A. The tallest asshole of mankind,” she whispered with her chin touching my table as if she was asking me for extra condoms.

“Now, who needs to mind their fucking language?” I imitated her as I placed my right hand between my chin and my table.

“Okay.” She cleared her throat as if to say, “Back to business, bitches,” and came back to her normal posture. “What's going on in Little Miss Delulu Girl's mind?”

“Ishaan Ahuja is riding his Royal Enfield straight to my heart,” I admitted, wearing my hopeless romantic grin again.

“I thought he was riding somewhere else.” She looked back at me with a grin she wears only when she cracks dirty jokes.

“Eww! Aarvi, stop cracking such jokes now!” I fanned my nose and coughed out loud.

“But, looks like you two need a ship name.” She placed her hand on her chin like scientists on their last step of finding something great.

“What?” At that moment, I knew that she looked like a slow learner reciting the periodic table.

“Ishvika, Ishaanvika, Advish, Advishaan, Adish, Ishvik, and Ishika. What's your pick?”

“Ask Ishaan first—” I let my chin touch my table as I whispered, “— Bitch.”

“Oh, sure! I will do that. After all, you're my only best friend, isn't it?”

***

Harsh: Who's Ishaan?

I was greeted by the message as cardigan started playing in my Bluetooth headphones.

Me: Ishaan? Who's he?

Harsh: That's my question. Who the fuck is that guy? I found you talking about him to Aarvi and Deepti.

Harsh: Who is Ishaan?

Me: Male protagonist of You Belong With Me.

Me: The book you bought for me two days ago.

Harsh: Okay, but why were you complaining that you wished you had a boyfriend like him?

I think it's high time to scream, “Because it's worth it and you fuck off from my life for the next few infinities.”

Is it?

Me: He was a good character. That's all.

No, it isn't.

Harsh: But, why do you wish you had a man like him?

Me: So what if I had said that? It doesn't mean that he will appear at this moment and ask me out for a date.

Harsh: Doesn't matter, sweetheart.

Fuck this “sweetheart”! That doesn't make him romantic.

Harsh: This had raised questions towards our relationship. I have a huge doubt whether I am being a good boyfriend to you. Now that you said that you wished you had a boyfriend like him, I feel like you're dissatisfied with me. It feels like you hate me. It feels like you want to end this relationship.

Of course!
Of course!
Of course!

Me: Of course, I'm dissatisfied with this relationship and you when you talk like this.

Harsh: See? You told it.

Yeah, I told it. Good job, Advika.

Me: Did God place your brain inside your skull or your rib cage? Think, man.

Harsh: We wouldn't have fallen in love if we started thinking.

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU—

I erased the message and rewrote a much more polite version of it.

Me: I know.

Harsh: No emoji, sweetheart? See, this is what I was saying. I think you lost interest in us since you, just like you said before, are dissatisfied with this relationship.

I wish I could spit fire right from my throat so that I could burn this office clean. I'll sell them my soul if someone explains to him that I am too lazy to search for emojis and use one.

Me: I'm sorry, Harsh. I've got a job to do. Let's talk about this later.

Harsh: It's not as if we get time after office.

That was the last message I read since I switched off my mobile data.

***

“Did he give you this?” Aarvi emphasised the word “this” as if she felt a cringe at the Post-it sticking in her fingers.

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes and looked back at the words engraved on the Post-it.

Sweetheart,

Sorry for dissatisfying you as a boyfriend.

Harsh…

“I'm sure he's not your boss's son. He's Kokila Ben's son,” she stated, referring to Kokila Ben as the most dramatic character in Indian soap operas.

“That fits it. He might be Ahem Ji's brother.”

Ahem Ji is the male protagonist of a famous Indian soap opera and the son of Kokilaben, known across the country for being India's biggest red flag.

“Okay. Genetic problems. I get it.” She tried to peek into my laptop screen and asked, “Whatcha doin', bitch?”

“Ummm… Research.” I pursed my lips and shifted back to G-mail, opened my laptop.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]

Subject: Hi!

I know this won't reach you, yet I'm using this as an online diary.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Advika Bansal, a very regular student from Delhi, India. I'm sure you have little idea about my country. Who could blame your situation? After getting to know about you, my respect for you had reached the end of the universe. I wonder whether I will find men like you in my life.

I got to know everything about you and Maahi. And, I am not sure whether you are alright or not (I guess, you aren't). Yet, I'm damn sure that she doesn't deserve a guy like you. Diamonds are meant to shine outside, not to be buried under the soil. If things are meant to end, it is. And it is all for good. I trust God and destiny, so I believe that God has something extraordinary in store for you.

Maybe, he has me in store for you? Just kidding, don't freak out.

Fine! I don't expect you to introduce yourself like I did, because I know you won't. But still, hi!

Advika B.

***

Could someone help this Little Miss Delulu Girl to get out of the relationship she's uncomfortable of?

I think, her Mr Book Boyfriend can do it for her.