One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘We miss you. Don’t you miss New York?’
‘Yeah, I do. Miss you guys,’ I said.
I finished the call and sat in my bed. I saw the time; it was midnight. I changed into my
nightclothes. As I put my white Zara dress into the laundry bag, I noticed a tiny red pasta sauce stain
on the sleeve. I don’t know why but I felt horrible. I felt lonely. I imagined Neel at home, kids in his
lap while he told them bedtime stories. I imagined Kusum wearing designer sleepwear and cuddling
Neel. Why was I imagining all this? How did it matter to me? I knew he had a family all along, right?
My phone buzzed. WhatsApp message from Neel.
‘Hope you recovered from bumping into me today. Sorry about that.’
Okay, so he wasn’t spooning in bed with his wife in pretty sleepwear. He was typing a
message to me.
‘Not your fault,’ I messaged back.
‘Strangely, I liked that you met my kids.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. They are a huge part of my life. Nice to share it with you.’
Somehow, he made it all seem less terrible.
‘That’s sweet of you to say. They are amazing kids.’
‘Thanks. They liked you. Aryan kept saying Feedy Didi.’
I sent a smiley back.
‘You don’t even talk to me these days,’ Neel sent another message.
‘What’s the point?’ I replied.
‘We can only know the point of talking if we do the talking, right?’
‘It’s fine. Nothing to be said. Mistakes happen.’
‘Stop calling it a mistake. Please.’
‘Fine.’
‘Can we talk? Like catch up properly? Instead of avoiding each other.’
‘I don’t know, Neel. I am not in a good place.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing specific. Just low.’
‘Can I be there for you? At least a little bit?’
‘We will talk later,’ I said.
‘We are going to Seoul next week. Can we catch up then?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Thank you. Just don’t avoid me.’
‘Can’t seem to, as it turns out. Even on weekends,’ I said.
‘You are funny. Anyway, goodnight.’
‘Goodnight. By the way, Kusum is really sweet.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘She liked you.’
‘Because she doesn’t know me,’ I said.
‘Don’t say that.’
I sent a smiley back. He replied with a long message.
‘Anyway, Kusum is nice. I am not going to say she is a horrible person, Radhika. But she and I
just don’t share that connection. Not even a tenth of what you and I have. None, actually.’
I read the message and didn’t reply.
‘What?’ he sent another message.