Page 295 - The World's Best Boyfriend
P. 295

So you need to stop before he self-destructs.’
                  Aranya laughed. ‘Why? Isn’t he too busy in love with Ritika? At least that’s
               what he texted me.’

                  ‘What? No! Ritika went back home long back. He drove her away.’
                  ‘I know he lied. The picture he sent me was old; anyone could see that. He’s a
               pathetic liar.’

                  ‘I always told him that. But that’s not the point. The point is . . . just stop.’
                  ‘I won’t stop till I get what I want. That’s how I work, Sanchit.’
                  ‘AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, ARANYA? HE’S ALREADY

               BROKEN,’ said Sanchit.
                  ‘I don’t need to answer your questions. And DARE you shout at me, Sanchit.’
                  The cab reached her apartment and she stepped out. She signed in the register

               and walked in.
                  ‘Fine, Aranya. Have it your way. I’m sending you a mail Dhruv wrote but
               never sent. Read it and hopefully you will have a change of mind. I’m just

               requesting you to leave him alone.’
                  ‘I will think about it,’ said Aranya and disconnected the call.
                  She rang the bell and Raghuvir opened the door. He had waited up. There was

               a warm pizza waiting for her. She forgot it was pizza night. Of course. Right on
               schedule. Every Tuesday. Raghuvir had it marked on the calendar. That’s how

               you make relationships function—schedule everything and follow it. What is
               love if not a routine? Raghuvir had totally nailed it. Together they could have
               written a self-help book on it.
                  ‘If you had taken one more minute, I would have dozed off,’ said Raghuvir.

                  ‘Which movie are we watching today?’ asked Aranya.
                  ‘I thought we would eat and do something more fun tonight,’ answered

               Raghuvir and waved a wine bottle in Aranya’s face.
                  Aranya smiled weakly. ‘I will just go and change.’ She left the room and
               locked herself in the washroom. She closed the seat of the toilet and sat on it.
               She waited for the mail. She refreshed her mailbox again. Inbox (1).

                  It was the same mail which had been lying in Dhruv’s Drafts folder for a
               while now.

                  She read the mail twice. Her eyes welled up. Her phone beeped. It was
               Sanchit.
                  SANCHIT
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