Ties That Stays
Today was my school reunion. I was torn about going. I had an idea that “he” would show up. We had this amazing love story during school—so in love. I thought we’d get engaged, but it never happened. After school, we drifted apart. No calls, no texts. Found out through a friend that he got married last year. It’s not that I care; I’ve been happily married for two years. It’s just the reunion. The memories, the what-ifs. The anxiousness to revisit that part of my past. Standing at this crossroads, I felt a mix of excitement and uncertainty.
From the living room, I hear Shaurya’s muffled but loud enough Avantikaa chalee?
Shaurya. The oh-so-punctual Shaurya. 7:30 means 7:13 for him. He was accompanying me for the reunion. My husband is a mix of charm and carefree. Warm eyes. Friendly smile. Everyone is at ease around him. He’s lazy too, but he’s not reluctant to experience life. So, he decided to step up his game when it came to my college reunion. Picture this: a sharp suit that hugged his tall frame and a tie so glorious it could start wars. Shaurya did not know about the “he,” though. It was an old story; why bother?
You look great; mere reunion mein, why do you want to stand out? Yeh, tie kab lii? I asked him.
He looked at his tie and smiled at it. A very proud smile.
You look amazing too, my love, with his fingers casually weaved through my hair.
I couldn’t deny the warmth in his words, but a tiny worry crept in—I had just nailed my makeup, and any disruption to my carefully crafted look wasn’t part of the plan. The urge to snap at him tugged at me, but I caught myself. His compliment was genuine, and his touch was affectionate. So, instead of letting the worry take over, I took a calming breath. I decided to cherish the sincerity of his words and the tenderness in his touch, even if it meant risking a slight makeup mishap. Internally, I was annoyed.
Main toh bahut excited hoon, finally pata chalenge tumhare school ke kisse. Aur yeh tie shaadi ke time li thi. And it’s a special occasion too, right? Shaurya added.
Special indeed.
Ab Chalee, sir? I said.
Tumhe bahut jaldi ho rahi, koi intezaar kar raha hai kyaa? Shaurya teased.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his remark. His wit had this uncanny ability to strike right where it pinched the most, and at that moment, I couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused. That’s Shaurya for you—always managing to catch you off guard with a well-timed comment that lingers just a tad longer than you’d like.
We sat in the car. The car rolled through Delhi’s chaos and charm, taking us to my school reunion—just a 40-minute drive. Nostalgia snuck in like a silent guest, starting from my heart and seeping down to my feet.
Questions buzzed in my head. Would bumping into “him” be awkward? Heck, would he even show up? The guy was a walking mystery. Would he stroll in with his wife, adding an unexpected twist to the evening? It was like stepping into a reunion, not knowing if you were in for a drama or a comedy, and Aryan was that unpredictable lead. As we stepped through the entrance, the air carried the crispness of February in Delhi, hitting that perfect balance between chilly and cosy. The grounds were adorned with beautiful decorations, creating an inviting atmosphere. A bonfire crackled in the corner, casting a warm glow that mingled with the cool winter breeze.
The setting was ideal for reconnecting with old friends, introducing them to our partners, and being open to the question, Where are you working these days? A low-hanging fruit for any conversation—that’s your career. Amidst the mingling crowd, Pooja emerged as the first familiar face. She wore an elegant traditional saree. She hadn’t changed much, just boasting about her new position as Vice President of Marketing at blah blah company.
You guys make such a good-looking couple, she exclaimed.
Shaurya shot me a smile, and I smiled back. Then, I saw him. My heart skipped a beat as he stood across the room, lost in lively chatter. The years melted away, and memories, both sweet and bittersweet, flooded back. Shaurya noticed and asked,
All good, Avantika? I forced a smile and replied, Just overwhelmed with nostalgia, you know?
Aryan was making his way towards me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He hugged me.
Hi, Avantika, long time. With a smirk, he added, oblivious to Shaurya’s presence.
Shaurya extended a friendly hand, introducing himself. Hi, I’m Shaurya, Avantika’s husband.
The tension hung thick, but Aryan, with a theatrical grin, shook Shaurya’s hand and said, Shaurya, meet my wife, Mudita. The room held its breath, waiting for the next chapter in this reunion drama to unfold. She was gorgeous and had a vibrant personality. The words that came out of her mouth changed everything.
Hi Shaurya! You still have this tie! That’s so sweet. You look good.
Shaurya was pale.
Do you guys know each other? I asked, hopeful for a straightforward answer. But Shaurya’s expression revealed everything.
Time stood still. You know that feeling. I felt it. Imagine the urge to bang your head against a wall. However, you are so unfortunate that you can’t even find a wall. Awkwardness fills the air immediately.
Oh, so Mudita gave you this tie? I questioned—so Shaurya had lied to me. My eyes looked at Aryan, expecting shock, but he seemed oddly calm, almost like this was part of some secret plan. Marrying his ex-girlfriend’s husband’s ex-girlfriend seemed like a scripted twist. The atmosphere shifted from a reunion to a soap opera plot, leaving me stuck in the middle of the unfolding drama, grappling with the sting of betrayal and the absurdity of the situation.
“I… umm…” Shaurya stumbled over words in a language nobody recognized. The music kicked in, and the first song echoed through the room:
Dil pe pathar rakh ke, Munh pe makeup kar liya.
Mere saiyan ji se aaj maine, breakup kar liya.
Aryan, in all his enthusiasm, exclaimed, Avantika, c’mon, let’s dance. I hesitated, thinking the dance of dragons was enough for Aryan. I wasn’t in the mood, but Aryan insisted. I want to see The Dancing Queen. Shaurya, seizing the opportunity for sarcasm, chimed in. You never told me you were the dancing queen.
Feeling a surge of emotions, I retorted. You never told me about the tie. And with that, chaos ensued. It was just Aryan and me on the dance floor, turning heads and drawing eyes. At that moment, amidst the whirlwind of emotions, I wished I could dance the night away, letting go of all the pent-up feelings and losing myself in the chaos of the music and movement. The dance floor set the stage for all of the emotions waiting to be set free. Shaurya was silent, standing with Mudita.
Mudita casually invited us to have dinner. I won’t be the ex, which would be awkward. I think Shaurya was on the same page. The unspoken tension in the room—the elephant we all chose to ignore—lingered beneath the surface, threatening to disrupt the festivities. This was a tragedy, and only a miracle could save me.
Then, Aryan dropped a bombshell, declaring, I’m moving to London to head their creative team.
Shaurya, always one to voice his opinions, couldn’t resist a comment on the economic state there, injecting an unexpected dose of drama into the conversation. The UK economy is a mess right now; not a great move, buddy.
Mudita, perhaps tired of the unspoken tension, snapped at Shaurya, saying, Let someone be ambitious, Shaurya. Not everyone can be like you.
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
Sensing an opportunity to add my two cents, I remarked, Some people just find it easy to move on, right, Aryan?
Aryan retorted Better than clinging to nostalgia. The exchange sparked a clash of perspectives, with each word adding fuel to the emotional fire.
Amidst the brewing drama, Shaurya, true to his nature, injected: Valuing what you have is not clinging.
As he held my hand, a quiet understanding passed between us. At that moment, I realised why it had always been Shaurya. The room simmered with a complex mix of emotions—tension, ambition, and a touch of bittersweet nostalgia. Aryan was my past. The past feels familiar and exciting because we know it well. It’s like revisiting an old book or a favourite place, full of memories. But the future is like a blank canvas waiting to be painted. To create it, we need steady hands—hands that can handle challenges and shape something new. Shaurya is my future.
We said our goodbyes and drove home. The car was quiet, like when you’re tired after a long day. We both felt a bit drained emotionally, but we were clear about our future. I unlocked the door and went in first, but there was still one thing left to do. The air felt a bit heavy like there was something I had to say, waiting for the right moment to say it.
Throw that tie and then enter.
He did.
What are your ties like with the past?
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