"Too long and to belong; yet still be lonely.........................."

Vatsal stared at the rejection email on his screen, disbelief mingling with frustration. It was the third time in the past week, and the fifth since he had returned from his leave. Each time, his editorials were dismissed without explanation, leaving him to wonder about the unfair treatment he seemed to be receiving.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "This can't be happening again," he muttered to himself. He had poured his heart and soul into those pieces, each one meticulously crafted to meet the publication's standards. Yet, they were being brushed aside without a second glance.

The office buzzed with activity around him, oblivious to the storm raging within him. Colleagues passed by, exchanging casual greetings, unaware of the turmoil brewing under his calm exterior. Vatsal had always prided himself on his professionalism, but today, that façade was slipping.

He decided to confront his department head, hoping to gain some clarity on the situation. Knocking on the door, he entered cautiously, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

"Ah, Vatsal," his head said, looking up from a stack of papers with a faint smile that did not reach his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Vatsal took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "I wanted to discuss the recent rejections of my editorials," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I've noticed a pattern, and I'm concerned about the lack of feedback or explanation."

His head raised an eyebrow, his expression turning guarded. "You're concerned about feedback?" he echoed, his tone laced with thinly veiled irritation. "Vatsal, we have deadlines to meet. If your work isn't up to par, we have to move on."

Vatsal felt a surge of frustration. "With all due respect, sir, I believe my work meets the publication's standards," he countered, his voice firm. "I just need to understand where I'm falling short."

His head leaned back, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "I see," he said slowly, his gaze piercing. "Let me be frank, Vatsal. This isn't the first time we've had this discussion. Perhaps you should consider taking some time off to reassess your priorities."

Vatsal's heart sank at the implied threat. "Are you suggesting... am I being fired?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His head sighed heavily, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "Let's not jump to conclusions, Vatsal," he replied, his words measured. "But if you're this dissatisfied with the way things are going, maybe a break would do you good."

Vatsal felt a mix of anger and helplessness rising within him. It was clear that something deeper was at play here, something beyond his control. The unfairness of the situation gnawed at him, but he knew better than to push further.

"Thank you for your time," he said quietly, turning to leave. His head nodded dismissively, already engrossed in the papers on his desk.

As Vatsal walked back to his desk, a whirlwind of emotions churned inside him. He felt betrayed by the system he had devoted himself to, frustrated by the lack of transparency, and fearful of what the future held. But amidst the turmoil, one thing remained clear: he couldn't give up without a fight.

Back at his desk, he stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, thoughts racing. He knew he had to tread carefully, strategize his next move. Perhaps seeking advice from a trusted colleague or mentor could shed light on the situation. Or maybe it was time to consider other opportunities, to explore paths that would value his talent and dedication.

But as he sat there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, one thing became certain. He wouldn't let this setback define him. With determination burning in his eyes, Vatsal squared his shoulders and began drafting a carefully worded email to a mentor he trusted, seeking guidance and support in navigating the storm ahead.

In the midst of adversity, he found strength. And as he clicked 'Send', a glimmer of hope flickered in his heart.

In between all that chaos at work, Shubhita’s call brought a fleeting moment of relief to Vatsal. He answered with a weariness that echoed through the phone, hoping her usual cheer would lift his spirits. “Hello, Shubhita,” he greeted, his voice laden with fatigue.

“Hey there, Mr Grumpy bear!” Shubhita chirped, her tone light and playful as always. “How’s the day treating you? Need some magic to brighten?”

Vatsal managed a weak chuckle, trying to muster a semblance of humour. “I wish, Shubhita,” he sighed. “It’s been a rough day. Can we skip the jokes for now?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, the line crackling with tension. Shubhita’s attempt at levity fell flat against the backdrop of Vatsal’s strained demeanour. Undeterred, she persisted cautiously. “Okay, but I thought maybe—”

“I said no, Shubhita!” Vatsal snapped, his patience unraveling. “I don’t have time for this right now. Unlike your job, mine isn’t all fun and games.”

Shubhita recoiled at the sharpness in his tone, her heart sinking at the harshness of his words. “Vatsal, I was just trying to lighten the mood,” she countered softly, hurt creeping into her voice.

“Well, maybe you should understand that not everyone can afford to be as carefree as you all the time,” Vatsal retorted, his frustration boiling over. “Dealing with kids is one thing, but I deal with adults who expect professionalism.”

The words hung heavy between them, a silence laden with unspoken hurt and misunderstanding. Shubhita’s attempt to connect had backfired, leaving her at a loss for words. She felt a lump form in her throat, struggling to find the right response.

Before she could gather herself, Vatsal’s remorse hit him like a wave. He realized the weight of his harsh words, the cruelty of his tone. Taking a deep breath, he knew he had crossed a line. He dialled her number again, his heart racing with regret, hoping to make amends.

The phone rang several times before Shubhita finally picked up. Her voice was quiet, distant. “Hello?”

“Shubhita, I’m sorry,” Vatsal blurted out, his voice thick with emotion.

“Go deal with adults, Vatsal. Please don’t waste your precious time talking to a kid,” she replied softly, and then the line went dead.

Vatsal sat there for a long time, staring at his phone screen. He felt a profound ache in his chest, the weight of his actions settling in his bones. He knew he had to find a way to make things right. But for now, all he could do was sit with his regrets.

Later that evening, Vatsal left the office with a heavy heart, the weight of the day’s mistakes weighing him down. He longed to go home, to face Shubhita and apologize properly for his hurtful words. The drive seemed longer than usual, each passing mile stretching into an eternity of self-reflection.

Finally, he arrived at their apartment building, his steps heavy as he made his way up to their floor. The door to their apartment loomed ahead, a threshold he knew he needed to cross to make things right.

The door opened without Shubhita’s usual cheerful “welcome back.” She just stood there for a moment, then turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Vatsal felt the weight of her silence as he followed her inside, his heart heavy with regret.

She emerged a moment later with a glass of water, which she placed on the table where he had set his bag. She wore a cherry red cotton kurti, a stark contrast to her sombre mood.

Before she could leave, he reached out and caught her wrist.

Both were silent; he waited for her to turn, but she didn’t. Desperation and guilt gnawed at him.

“Welcome back, Mr Busily Busy,” Trying to lighten the mood, he started to joke, imitating her usual playful mannerisms.

But Shubhita remained quiet, her expression unwavering as she tried to loosen his hold on her wrist.

In a comical scene that only deepened his regret, Vatsal exaggerated his movements, mimicking her animated gestures to make her laugh. He spoke in a high-pitched, playful voice, recounting their usual banter. “How was your day?”

Yet, she didn’t react, her face a mask of hurt. He gently tried to turn her towards him, but she kept her gaze firmly averted. When he maneuvered his face in front of hers, she turned the other way. He repeated the motion, and she stubbornly closed her eyes, shutting him out.

He found her stubbornness cute despite the tension. His frustration melted into a fond smile as he held both her wrists now, continuing to joke and cajole her into responding. But Shubhita remained silent, her resistance unwavering.

After several failed attempts, he finally pulled her close with one sudden, firm tug.

Caught off guard, Shubhita tumbled into him, their noses brushing. Her eyes flew wide open in surprise, and they found themselves looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

Time seemed to stand still as they were both lost in the moment, their emotions raw and exposed.

“I’m sorry,” Vatsal whispered softly, his voice thick with remorse as he gently rubbed his nose against hers. She fidgeted, but his hold was firm, his determination unyielding. He wanted her to start her usual prattles, the constant chatter he had grown so accustomed to and now missed dearly. He felt possessed, a deep need to make amends and hear her voice again.

Feeling her so close, Shubhita closed her eyes once more, a stubborn act of defiance. Both of their internal monologues ran wild, adding a mix of comedy and heart-warming tenderness to the scene.

 Vatsal couldn’t help but smile, seeing her close her eyes again. His eyes roved over her features, drinking in her beauty, stopping at her lips.

This time, he felt no guilt in gawking at her. He wanted to keep staring, to do more.

Their proximity intensified the moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and emotions. Shubhita’s stubbornness only made Vatsal’s resolve stronger. He was adamant not to let go until she responded, until the rift between them was mended.

As he gazed at her closed eyes, he felt a surge of affection and determination. With each heartbeat, he vowed to himself that he would make her mood right, that he would never take her for granted again.

Finally, he whispered, “Please get back to your original self, Shubhita. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Shubhita’s eyelids fluttered, but she kept them closed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Vatsal’s heart ached at her continued silence, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in closer, feeling hell exhausted their foreheads touching, his breath mingling with hers. He just for a moment wanted to hold on to some peace, hold on to her.

“I need you to know that I’m truly sorry. I literally had a rough day today.”

Her breath hitched, a small sign that his words were reaching her. She remained silent, but he could feel the tension in her body beginning to ease. He continued to hold her close, whispering words of apology and affection, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded heart.

The silence stretched on, filled with the weight of their emotions. Vatsal knew it would take time, but he was willing to wait, to do whatever it took to bring back the laughter and warmth that Shubhita always brought into his life.

As their foreheads remained pressed together, the warmth of their proximity began to stir something deeper within them both. Vatsal’s hands, which held her wrists firmly yet tenderly, tingled with the urge to explore further, to trace the contours of her skin and pull her even closer.

He could feel Shubhita’s breath against his lips, each exhale sending shivers down his spine.

Shubhita, too, felt the electric current between them. Despite her hurt, her body responded to the closeness, her heart pounding in her chest. The familiar scent of Vatsal enveloped her, a blend of musk and something uniquely his, and it made her knees weak. She fought to maintain her resolve, to keep her emotions in check, but the intensity of their connection was undeniable.

Vatsal's eyes travelled from her closed lids to her slightly parted lips, the temptation to kiss her growing stronger with each passing second. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers, a mirror to his own rapid heartbeat. His apologies turned into soft murmurs, words mingling with the unspoken desire that hung heavy in the air.

“Shubhita,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and longing, “Won’t you speak to me ever now?”

Her eyes fluttered open briefly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and defiance. The intensity in his eyes was mirrored in hers, a storm of feelings that neither of them could fully control. She could see the raw need in his expression, the same need she felt coursing through her own veins.

~~~

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