Akash’s words rang in her ears.
“Promise me that you’ll find someone for yourself. You’ll not be alone. Promise me.”
“Shut up, Akki,” She’d said.
“I’d rather live with your ghost than another man,” She said frowning.
“Ok, then I’ll come back,” He said. She’d punched him.
Jahnavi could never bring herself to love another man after Akash. It was just not possible. He had completed her in ways she herself didn’t know. Everything he did was new, not repeated. Every single thing. There was never a dull moment around him. He was too good to be true. And maybe that’s why he didn’t stay around long, she’d always tell herself. She cursed her fate for having fallen for a man who was already taken. By God.
But then everybody comes to this planet with a purpose, right? That’s what parents, elders, teachers…everybody around you – said. What was Akash’s purpose then? Come to this planet, meet her, fall in love, and then leave her gasping for air? He was her air. He was that life source.
She sat by on their balcony and watched the city lights.
Eight years. A long time. But not for Jahnavi. A life-time of memories weren’t enough now. She chuckled at the irony. He had called her from his business trip the last time, eight years ago on this very day. What the world celebrated as Valentine’s day. She and Akash never believed in it. Didn’t have to. With Akash, everyday was Valentine’s day. Sounded hopelessly mushy, but that’s how it was. They didn’t need a special day to celebrate their togetherness. He was practical, romantic, aggressive, protective, comical, everything, all at once.
She grit her teeth. Why, God? Why did you bring the guy to earth in the first place?
“Come back to haunt me, my foot,” She said, not realizing she’d just said it out loud.
“Forget your ghost, not even a bloody sign that you’re around. You know how it is to live alone? You thought it’s just that simple, huh? Becoming a ghost and…”
The lights went out in the neighborhood.
Jahnavi switched on her cell phone and made her way into the house to get a candle. She found the match first. She headed to the crockery table for the candle.
The doorbell rang.
“Coming,” She shouted, as she always did.
She held the candle stand and started walking to the door when she stopped. Her heavy breath accidentally blew the candle light.
How could someone ring the doorbell now?