Tags: Unrequited love/Hurt-Comfort/ Happy ending

Word Count: 4k words

He watches as she walks one step and hops the other, circling the garden, gently petting the flowers. He smiles back when she gazes up at him with a smile in her eyes and chuckle on her lips, her head thrown back slightly, tresses of hair waving with the winter breeze, her cold lips gaining their colour as they stretch to show her perfect teeth.

"Shubh!" Smriti calls and he swears to have not loving his name more than in this moment. She beckons him with her hands, "Come on!" she urges and he almost runs, not wanting to miss the moment where she's seeking him, a moment where it's his name on her giggling tongue and not the other way around.

"Look, they're so tiny," it's the back of his garden and he's never noticed the little home a bird has built on the newly grown shrub, little birdies cooing through the twigs. But it isn't their sight that has him smiling, it's the girl bent to their level with magic in her eyes as she coos at them, her lashes shining with a sheen from smiling so much.

"Cute," he unknowingly whispers and she looks up at him, nodding her head.

"Right? They are so tiny, so cute," and he nods in return even if the compliment wasn't meant for the little birdies. She won't ever listen to his adjectives for her anyway.

It's his bad, his worst, that he likes someone who can never like him back, would never like him back.

He has never told her that, never voiced with the confession, but he doesn't think he's going to do it. Not if it'll stifle the giggles escaping her mouth or shun the twinkling in her eyes.

And that's because he has gathered enough - observing the girl in front of him for years now - he has gathered who is actually in her heart and who in her head.

He could be wrong, he so wishes to be wrong but the shimmer in her eyes never betray his claim. As soon as he comes in front of her, his beloved brother, and conjures an effortless blush from her cheeks, Shubh knows this is it, knows that it's love, something truer than what he feels for her, for their eyes talk to each other for what feels like hours and lips remain silent, busy smiling, while he's left talking to himself, his eyes empty and lips murmuring condolences to his heart.

He never could give the stamp of the word 'love' to whatever he feels for the girl in front of her, very well knowing how unfair it would be to the partner he'll have by his side in future. He wouldn't want to make them suffer just as he's suffering in this moment, he wouldn't want his future partner to feel their heart shred into pieces when he'd tell them about a girl that they'll probably never compare to, the girl he had lived and breathed for.

A ring breaks the train of his thoughts that inevitably would have led him to his destruction; a mixture of the unrequited like and the definition of love standing right in front of his eyes.

"Yes?"

There's a voice on the other side of the phone, too familiar yet not enough. He'd like to address her as his twin even though they aren't remotely close to being related.

Rashi.

It's just the same longing in her eyes that he finds his reflection in, when she gazes at the cubicle opposite her own, at a man who can never be hers just like the girl in front of him who'd never be his.

"Can you come to the office?" her voice is urgent yet quivering. It makes his heart drop to his stomach. "Please..." and he doesn't think he could've moved away any faster after that, making an instant decision - no questions asked - leaving the one he cherishes for someone who he understands, who is him.

"I'm coming." He simply says and rushes through the gates, ignoring the treasured calls of his name that follows him to his car.

But he'll not turn around, he might get weak. And he doesn't want to be weak right now. He wants to be strong for someone else.

It takes him mere minutes to reach the office, where he'd normally reach in an hour. He's sure he's broken more than a dozen of traffic rules and maybe there is some traffic police following him but he doesn't find it in himself to care. He rushes through the doors, as people walk out of them, having retired for the day and given half of themselves to their jobs, chatting loudly to all their acquaintances, glancing at him curiously, their supervisor, knowing that today was his day off.

But Shubh doesn't mind those glances and climbs the stairs to his floor, his patience wearing out, not even left to wait for the elevator.

"Rashi," He calls out to the empty floor, lingers in her cubicle and then in his own, but finds her nowhere. He rushes through the hall, halting in his steps when he hears small, muffled cries coming from behind the door.

It's the door to the washroom, Ladies washroom, and he's at loss of what to do. He stands there, distributing his weight from one foot to another and then with another moment of contemplation, knocks at the door, clearing his throat.

"Rashi? It's me, Shubh."

He waits quietly until the door unlocks from inside and a pair of steps emerge out, cowering, something that they aren't normally.

And when he looks up from the steps, he's met with a heart-wrenching sight of a crumpled face and quivering lips, his breath coming out a bit shaky.

Shubh gulps. "What happened?"

The teary-eyed girl doesn't answer verbally, just takes a step forward until she's standing right in front of him, and then - just - slumps on him, clutching the front of his hoodie in her fist until a new stream of tears roll down her eyes, her frame quaking with pain.

"Sh-Shubh. . ." And the way his name sounds from her mouth doesn't compare to any - breathless, heartbreaking, melancholic - describing with it the pain of his own heart, the pain that he hasn't shared with anyone but her.

It has him finally encircling his arms around her, rubbing at her back until her sobs died down, and she's left murmuring a series of shaky "Shubh".

Shubhneet Gill, or Shubh, as everyone knows him, has seen many connections fading and breaking in his short life of twenty-five years.

For instance, when he was small, chubby-cheeked and ten, he saw the first connection fading; of his parents, it faded to such an extent that they couldn't fill it with colour again. It erased. Completely. They got a divorce.

When he was tall, undergoing puberty and sixteen, he saw another connection breaking and this one hurt more because it was related directly to him; his best friend of ten years moving to a different state, a different country altogether, so far away that the texts between them rendered futile and the connection broke.

At twenty-two, when he was determined to make something of his life, he felt another connection, this one tugging strongly at his heartstrings, giving him bouts of happiness and then of tears, an attraction so powerful that he couldn't stop himself from delving in too deep. This connection never faded from his side but the person on the other side didn't even consider it to begin with. She did though, for his brother and made him her lover. A term he never had the chance to see manifesting in his life. He was no lover to his parents, no lover to his best friend and no lover to the girl he had unknowingly given his heart to.

All his life, he's seen connections breaking but never has he seen a connection in making. A connection that was born out of pain, that sustains in tears and will, probably, prevail on melancholy. And with Rashi, it was just that.

"What happened? Is it him?" he asks, when the girl finally detaches herself from him, avoiding eye contact, looking at her feet ashamed. But he wants to tell her to not do that. There should be no shame in loving someone, to give in to your heart and cry for that lucky individual who has had a chance to be loved by the unlucky you, a one-sided lover.

"He's -" she gulps, wetting her dry lips with her tongue before looking at him with all the hesitance in the world. "Rahul is getting married. . . in a week." She says and her face crumples yet again, brows furrowing, lips wobbling and nose scrunching up but she doesn't cry again, doesn't give in to the urge, clenching her hands in a fist, closing down all the emotions with it.

Shubh envelopes her hand with his, putting his finger inside the fist, tickling at her palm until she has her hands open. A whine leaves her mouth, irritated and strangled, heavy with a sob ready to follow.

"Don't do that. Let it go. It's ridiculous that he's getting married, doesn't know what he's missing. Cry for him, cry that he wouldn't ever be able to feel your love, come on." Shubh encourages, disregarding the picture that his mind conjures unasked, of his brother and Smriti standing side by side, and him standing beside them, gaze fixed at the girl in question who is busy looking at his brother even though they all had met each other at the same time.

Shubh doesn't know why this happens - why he doesn't get to love Smriti and why can't Rashi give a piece of her heart to Rahul. Why do they have to swallow their pain with a smile on their faces and tape their broken hearts with feigned happiness - maybe because it's all true at the end, maybe it doesn't matter the ocean of love that your heart is, sometimes it falls short to reach the person you intended it for, some times a narrow stream is enough but only if it's for the person who is destined for you.

He had witnessed it, of course, but he had witnessed Rashi's part too. How she had entered this office as an intern years ago, doe-eyed and shy stepped. Both him and Rahul had been her seniors. She was sweet, still is, but that time her sweetness had been combined with a hint of nervousness, a whole lot of stuttering and sporadic surges of confidence. Adorable could be the only word used to describe her, and had he not given his heart already to someone else, he would've definitely fallen for her.

Shubh didn't understand how Rahul was able to resist this cuteness.

But as far as he knows about himself, he was never concerned with Rahul, had it been Smriti, maybe she would've related to him, being oblivious to the other person's heart that only sings for them and all, but Shubh, he had always been more interested in Rashi's story; the way she coughed up excuses to be in the same room as her senior, to hide her smile behind the files when Rahul so much as responded to her work-related questions or did the bare minimum of opening the door for her, even though that man opened the door for everyone, chivalrous bastard that he is.

Her eyes would only leave her work to glance at him and would instantly snap to her computer screen when the recipient of her gazes looked up only for their eyes to lock, albeit coincidentally.

Shubh had also witnessed the bouts of jealousy that Rashi went through when she would see the receptionist who fancied Rahul, go into his cabin and stay there for way longer than Rashi could have ever managed, giving her a smirk every time she left his cabin. She used to sulk until he (Shubh) brought her a cup of coffee and she beamed in return, finally focusing back on her work.

Where on one hand Shubh had always been the silent lov- admirer, Rashi had always been action-oriented. She knew what to do and when to do it. He doesn't think that Rahul in his entire life would've witnessed so many shy smiles thrown towards him or had such a dedicated intern ever before. But that was what Rashi was all about - quick on her feet, and steady in her heart. And yet, yet her present state didn't stray too far from his; both pining for the people they'd never had, supporting each other and having their hearts broken one too many times by the same person.

"Who is it?" Shubh asks her then, gently not wanting to force his way into her sorrowful reverie.

"Huh?" she whimpers, looking up at him with big teary eyes and had he been her lover, he would have cooed at her.

"Who is he marrying? Who's the girl?" he asks and holds Rashi from her shoulders beforehand because he knows that she's going to break down once again.

"It's Trisha." The receptionist.

Oh no.

"Shubh, I liked him - I like him a lot." She cries, hiding her face in her hands, and he once again brings her in his arms, caressing her head.

"I don't think we're made to be loved. We are just made to love. Doomed to love." He sighs, mumbling more to himself than anyone else, a sheen shining in his own eyes, a humourless chuckle following the words.

The girl nods.

*

"Congratulations, and all the best for your w-wedding tomorrow, sir."

The office hours were just about to end, and Rashi was just about to leave her working place when a thought arose in her head. A very stupid, and fatal one at that. Forcing a brave smile on her face, she had thought why not just go and face her fears, to congratulate the only man she had decided to give a place in her heart for his wedding that is due tomorrow. It had felt like a good idea until she had reached his cabin, wherein Shubh too worked, and also standing there was Rahul's to be wife, the receptionist, holding files in front of him that he was signing without looking.

Talk about trust.

On a second thought, don't. It will probably hurt her more.

"Thanks," Rahul replies, busy signing papers after paper not bothering to look up at her.

But that doesn't mean that she'd start pouting. He's a busy man.

"Ok." She murmurs, avoiding meeting gazes with Shubh who was probably staring at her with a pitiful expression, and showing herself out of the cabin.

Until.

He calls her out.

Rahul.

"Hey, wait."

Rashi's heart thuds against her chest as she turns towards the man of her dreams, fidgeting with her phone that her hands envelope.

She gulps nervously, a forbidden hope shining in her eyes. "Y-Yes?"

"Would you mind bringing me a cup of coffee? Thanks." He says with a nonchalance that hurts her right in the core of her heart, her barely-there smile immediately vanishing from her face.

"P-Pardon?"

"Coffee! I need coffee. Please bring me a cup." Rahul restates, still not bothering to look up at the person he is instructing.

Rashi's face welcomes an immediate frown at that, and a telltale of stinging behind her eyes.

"Sorry but I'm not a peon."

The man finally looks at her, his hand stilling mid-signing and a gaze that doesn't look too amused by her back answer, directed at her.

"Really? Who are you then? I clearly don't remember your name or your face for that matter."

The answer has her eyes widening, hands clenching into a fist and throat drying.

And before she can utter another word, Shubh speaks up.

"Rahul! You sure you don't have a memory loss? She's been working with us for four years now. You were her team leader at that time. Don't you remember?" he asks, pushing his chair back and standing up, demanding attention towards himself.

Rahul gently pushes Trisha aside holding her from her hip, tilting his head to look properly at his friend. He gives him a lopsided smile.

"It's not that I don't remember, Shubh, it's just that I don't bother remembering. My memory can accommodate only so many names after all." He states, winking at the girl standing beside him and staring at his friend with raised brows as if challenging him.

"Well, that's unprofessional of you, Mr Rahul, you should have concerned yourself with at least learning your employees' names." Shubh grits through his teeth, his furious gaze flitting from Rahul's to Rashi's, softening a little as he looks at the girl who's biting her lip, trying to stifle the hurt that might be paining her chest.

"Come on, Rashi. Let's go." He states holding her from her wrist, pronouncing her name out loud for the man to know and storming away from the office.

However, he's only able to manage a few steps until the girl stops on her feet, avoiding his gaze when he turns to look at her and unclasping his grip from her wrist.

She wordlessly walks back into the office, and he's left staring at her.

At the back of his mind he fears if she's going there to apologize or doing something equally disagreeable but his rational side denies the assumption, knowing fully well that Rashi is an intelligent girl and even if it is someone whom she had nested so much affection for, she'll not do anything to demean herself like that.

He's provided with an answer when Rashi storms out of the office, her teary eyes still teary and hands clenched into fists, the only difference being her Id card; she's not wearing it anymore.

"Rashi. . . ." He trails off, dumbfounded while she gives him a smile that looks like she had invested too much force to conjure upon her face.

"I resigned. Unofficially. Will send a mail later." She states, inhaling a supposedly encouraging breath but when she exhales, it comes out stuttered.

"But Rashi. . ." Shubh doesn't know what to say to her if there is anything to say or not. Should he say that he is proud of her for taking this step or dismayed for not having asked him about such a big decision, deciding to get out of his life just like that?

"You're one lucky man, Shubh." She vocalizes in a voice heavy with emotions, gaze fixed at the wall behind him.

The tears now shine prominently on her waterline.

"At least your subject of affection knows your name, considers you as her friend. Look at me," she says, huffing out a self-pitying breath. "I spent four years loving that man and he. . .he asked me to bring him a coffee." She laughs, humorlessly, blinking back the tears to no avail. "I mean from the start I knew that this was a hopeless case and was just a crush that went too deep, and I probably would have brought him a cup of coffee too, had he - had he respected me. But he didn't, Shubh." She sighs, her gaze finally shifting to look him in the eyes. "He's one terrible boss, isn't he?

"You know, I had always thought us to be on the same boat, but it's now that I realize that we couldn't be any more different. I - I don't think you're doomed, I think - I think you're so lucky to have loved a girl who deserved to be loved. You're not like me. You loved the right one, even if it's one-sided."

Shubh gulps, "Rashi - "

"I'm leaving the job, not because I wouldn't be able to handle him getting married to somebody else but because I've been humiliated here. I won't work in a place that doesn't provide me with respect, let alone love."

"Plea- "

"You've been a wonderful companion to me, Shubh, something that I didn't dare ask but I still got. Guess I'm not that unlucky after all, huh?" she huffs out a humourless laugh, but her eyes hold an almost fond look.

"And I pray that if you ever fall in love with someone else, they'd return your affection. Goodbye."

Rashi gives him a genuine smile and doesn't wait to see or hear him coming out of his shocked reverie, calling out her name.

"If I ever love again. . . ."

*

There comes a time in one's life when they truly feel they've accomplished something; an unplanned goal, a nameless dream, a thing they never wanted to have but now that they have it, they feel complete.

Shubh's feeling the same; seeing her at the airport, waving at him from a walkable distance, a wide smile on her face, and excitement so big that it reaches her eyes, she looks nothing like the Rashi he had seen all those days and weeks and months ago; lost, betrayed and broken. She looks the newest version of herself, so happy, her smile so contagious.

He stays put in his spot, just wondering how had he ever overlooked her smiling face, how had his eyes never took in the shine hers radiate, how had his ears shut themselves to her melodious laugh, how had his heart never stuttered at such an exquisite sight. 

Maybe because it was the first time the smile was directed at him, solely on him; that the happiness that radiated on his face was imitated by the other person; that the fondness and the longing was shared this time.

It was for the first time Rashi wasn't smiling while gushing about her lover; the reason for those stars in her eyes wasn't the look that she had been the recipient of from the cabin situated opposite to her cubicle but it was his face; her hand wasn't waiting to be held by someone else, but was inching closer to him, seeking his contact, her attention all on him as his was on her.

For the first time, they both were the peak highlights of someone's day and the warm blanket of someone's night.

It was for the first time they both had felt how beautiful it is to be at the receiving end of someone's love.

"Shubh!" The voice comes later, but the girl comes first, a mess of limbs, clinging to him, her arms around his neck, and his around her waist, protective and secured.

He can't believe that she's in front of him. It has been almost two years since she had switched her workplace, her state, her country; had gone away from everything, leaving him behind, all alone, with a wish that he finds his lover.

Lover.

That day - the same day that Rashi had resigned from her job, he had come to know - she was getting married too. Smriti, to her brother.

He had been happy, as happy he could've been while he watched a piece of his heart going away from him forever. That day, he too had decided to go away, not with a reason as dignified as Rashi's was but for the simple fact that he couldn't bear the sight of them together, one he had loved while growing up and the other he had grown up to lov- 

He couldn't do it and so he had seen himself out from that house. And it was after a whole year that he once again had got in contact with Rashi, talked about his woes and listened to hers all night long.

And then they had concluded upon a mutual confession.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm finally seeing you in person after two full years." She gushes in his arms and he scoffs albeit good-humouredly.

"Oh please, it was you who wanted to go away. Blame it all on yourself." He states, pulling back from the hug, puffing up his chest, feigning offence to which the girl just laughs, nudging at his shoulder until he too breaks into a one.

"So where are the boys?" he asks, biting back a new set of chuckles as they walk towards the exit leaving Rashi to cutely frown at him.

"What boys?"

"You know. . ." Shubh trails off, throwing a wink in her direction to which her reply comes after good five seconds, mouth opening into a gasp and her hand hitting at his forearm.

"Ah! It hurt."

"Good, you deserved it."

It's after long minutes of red and purple-hued evening that Rashi breaks the seemingly ever-prevailing silence, sitting in his car, looking at the scenery in front of them which constitutes nothing but Shubh's parking lot. His new house.

"I'm not her you know." She murmurs in a mellowed voice, low and hushed.

The voice reminds him of their confession.

"I - I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Want to come back? I'll pick you up."

" I don't want to be alone in that country. It would break me."

"You don't have to be."

"Shubh. . . ."

"Would you. . . . would you like to go out with me? Would you give me a chance? Would you give both of us a chance?"

"Shubh, I - "

"Let's not live with broken hearts anymore when we have our hearts to complete each other's."

"Yes."

"Hmm?"

"I'd love to go out with you. I would like to be happy once again."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You can still back out, you know. I won't mind. But- " Rashi sighs, reaching out for his hand, clasping it in hers, her small smile turning teary as she does. "Shubh, I - I won't be able to bear if you'd ever call me by her name."

Her earnest voice echoes under the crescent and vague moon, it makes Shubh move towards her, over the console, bringing her head to his chest, caressing the back of it.

"I won't." He promises to her, himself and the person that had always been in his heart but would not be from this moment. "I'm here because I know that it's you, Rashi, I'm here for you." He states, softening his voice to match hers, brushing away the tresses that hide her eyes from him.

"I know I've liked her for a long time and it would be difficult to completely devoid my mind of her traces, but I promise, I'll only see you - behind my closed lids and when I open them - I'll see you. Only you."

Shubh proceeds to give her a teary smile of his own, pressed against her temple.

"You're not her, Rashi, you'll never be, but that's what makes all the difference."
He swallows and then whispers through melancholic eyes.

"You will be one thing that she could never be.... Mine.