One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘I wanted to pray. For my mission to be successful.’
‘What mission?’
‘To win you back. The most important thing in the world for me right now.’
I must say, for a second I had no answer. I looked at him. He still had his trademark two-week
beard and curly hair. He had gained a bit of weight, but also become more fit. Or maybe it just felt
like that in the gym.
‘How are you, baby?’ he said.
‘Don’t “baby” me,’ I said, loud enough for the American man on the treadmill to turn his head
towards us for a second. I continued, ‘You have any idea what you made me go through? And you just
cut me off.’
‘I was an idiot. An insecure twenty-four-year-old.’
‘And what are you now? A stupid twenty-eight-year-old?’
‘Maybe. But I am old enough to realize you are the best thing to have ever happened to me.’
‘What?’ I said, then keeping my composure, ‘It’s over, Debu. It’s been over since long back.
You didn’t even return my calls.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Now I have to ask you to leave. Go visit your parents in Kolkata. You are in
India anyway.’
‘New York, baby.’
‘What about New York?’
‘Don’t you remember the days in New York? We had issues, yes, but how can you forget all
the happy memories?’
He looked into my eyes. He seemed to be in pain. For the first time in my life, someone had
crossed half a planet to come for the usually unlovable me. And it is hard to keep yelling at someone
who has done that for you.
‘You forgot, baby?’ he said again.
‘No, Debu, I have forgotten nothing,’ I said, my voice soft.