Letters to My Ex

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Letters to My Ex Page 1

by Nikita Singh




  NIKITA SINGH

  Letters

  to My Ex

  Dedicated to my wonderful friend Laura Duarte

  Gómez, now Laura Marston.

  I so admire your emotional resilience and

  unwavering hopefulness.

  Cheers to you and Scott!

  m. 11 August 2018

  ‘You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.’

  – ROBIN WILLIAMS

  Contents

  Author’s note

  January

  February

  March

  April

  May

  June

  July

  August

  September

  October

  November

  December

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Author’s note

  This book was hard to write. It wasn’t planned. Usually, when I write, I have a plan in my head before I start; I know what’s going to happen. I don’t know everything that’s going to happen, but I’m aware of the highlights and turning points. So, when I started writing this book without a plan, it was a new kind of challenge for me (I like to be able to control things, especially things I create).

  I was only sure of one thing: Nidhi. I knew the character. Not in a creepy way, but what I mean is, when I was writing, I was completely inside her head. I knew how she felt, how she would react to situations, what she would and wouldn’t do. Nidhi’s circular thoughts, her confused feelings, her insecurities reflect the artist in her. (Maybe she’ll be a writer one day. Who knows!)

  With these letters, I tried to understand the reasons why people fall in love, the reasons why they stay together, the reasons they break up. I tried to explore what happens when two people who love each other deeply … break. And what it takes for them to find their way back to each other.

  Admittedly, I didn’t know that they were going to get back together. But as I wrote about them, I couldn’t see how Nidhi would be truly happy without Abhay. And Abhay, even though we don’t see in detail how he’s feeling throughout the year, needs Nidhi just as much as she needs him, if not more. Something essential connects them, and neither of them can be themselves without the other. When they grew up (graduated from college and stepped into the real world) they grew apart. Everything in their lives pulled them away from each other, till they broke. But their reason to be together (love) ultimately outweighed the challenges.

  Love sometimes just happens. However, most times, it needs constant care and attention. People tend to forget that, start taking things for granted, make mistakes, break trust – be generally careless idiots. I wanted to see what happens after a break like that, where both people broke each other’s trust in a way they believed was irreparable.

  Another thing that was an interesting challenge was this format: letters. We don’t see things the way they happen, but we see them through one person’s eyes. We get confused when she is confused. Her reality is the only reality, because we only have that one perspective.

  In the end, they choose to come back to each other. The separation was hard on both of them, but with time, they would’ve been fine without the other person in their lives. But they chose love, they chose to work on their issues, rebuild their relationship and ultimately create a bond much stronger than one they shared before. They developed emotional resilience, and are more prepared to face problems in the future. Their connection is not fragile, or something that can easily be swayed, because they’re more realistic now, while still remaining romantic, and they value what they share more than ever, because they’ve lost it once.

  And that’s what I wanted to write about – the idea that people have about a ‘perfect love’ and how they react when it’s tarnished. Rebuilding trust, taking second chances, risking heartbreak again – all of it requires a lot of courage. But ultimately, for Nidhi and Abhay, their love is worth all of it.

  January

  I need to say this. I’m not sure you need to hear (or read) any of this, but once again, I have decided to be selfish. I’m writing this because I need to say this, regardless of whether you need to hear this or not. It’s funny; I’d never thought of myself as a selfish person. Or at least I hadn’t until last week. But then I ended up doing the most selfish thing I could’ve done to you, and even though a big part of me wants to take it all back, and for things to go back to some shade of normal, I know it’s already way too late. I see it in everyone’s disappointed faces every day.

  Maa is livid and Papa, I think, is … confused. I don’t think he knows what to feel about the situation or how to react. But while he mostly just seems confused, there’s one emotion that still makes it to the surface. You guessed it – disappointment. Maybe because I’ve been this perfect little daughter my whole life, I’ve never really experienced being a cause of disappointment. And now that I am a disappointment, I realize that I don’t like it.

  Also, I think they’re angry and disappointed for all the wrong reasons, but that’s a whole other conversation. With everything that’s happened with you and me, I honestly can’t even care too much about being the perfect daughter right now.

  Abhay, I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish I could tell you what happened, and why I did what I did, but even I don’t know. All I know is that in that moment, surrounded by everyone we know and love, as we exchanged engagement rings, as our friends cheered, I knew I couldn’t follow it through. I couldn’t do this to us.

  It still confuses me. Somehow, in that moment, my entire life shifted. It was as if for years and years, the spotlight had been on the two of us, our perfect love story. We were perfect from the beginning. After a few weeks of being with you, I felt like I had known you forever. And in the five years since, we had plenty of opportunities to get to know each other even better, and make new memories. It had all been very romantic, as fairy tale as it gets. But then … in that one second, the lights turned on and the rest of the world was illuminated. It all changed. I was smiling wide, but in the next moment when I turned away from everyone else and looked at you – my smile froze.

  I can’t explain why it happened. You were looking at me with the biggest smile on your face, and then … I didn’t want any of it anymore. The focus shifted from everything my life would be to everything it would not be. Choosing that path meant giving up all the others. And I couldn’t do it.

  The moment sounds crazy even in my own head. I don’t expect you to understand, and I don’t care if it takes me ten pages or a hundred or a thousand, I want to put it on paper as the explanation you deserve. Closure, as they say.

  Do you remember the first time we met? I fucking hated your guts. We always laughed about that. You were such a happy child, all of eighteen years, with that crazy mop of black hair, spiky and frosted at the tips – the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. And you walked all tall and lanky, with one shoulder always slightly lower than the other, adding to your swagger or whatever. You were never someone who just … existed. You could never have faded into the background. You took up a lot of space, always the centre of attention. That’s what I hated about you. Before I came to love that about you.

  It took me a long time – and you a lot of persistence – for me to see you, even though you were always there. Your big, overwhelming presence, overtaking everything else in the room. That stupid hair.

  I still remember all of it fondly. You were on the cricket ground, smashing sixes, and I was in the stands, sitting alone, trying to get away from all the people and the noise. I couldn’t have chosen a worse spot. The cricket stadium felt like a good idea to begin
with, because it was completely empty when I first got there. Until you showed up with your friends, soon to be joined by a few more, and slowly, the stands started to fill up with adoring spectators. Funnily enough, I wasn’t distracted by any of it. I enjoyed watching that slow procession, in between pages of my assignment. I tried not to care about it, but that didn’t work. The cheering got louder and every time I looked up, there were more excited faces.

  I didn’t know you, but I knew of you. Everyone did. You were quite the legend with the ladies. I couldn’t walk three steps on campus without hearing a mention of you. Corridors, classrooms, restrooms, the grounds – you were everywhere, in conversations. Then, suddenly, you were in my life.

  I was perfectly fine, sitting at the stands all by myself, long after everyone else was gone. Including you, followed by all your fans. I saw you leave with them. I saw you turn around to look at me. I can’t imagine what my face must’ve looked like. It was unexpected, our intense eye contact. It wasn’t long or anything; maybe that, the quickness of it, added to the intensity. I remember it in scenes, like some cheesy movie. Scene 1: I was reading. Scene 2: I saw you laughing and walking away with your team, followed by the girls. Scene 3: You looked at me and I looked at you, and it was fleeting, and it was … hot and tingly. Scene 4: You were gone.

  I remember feeling … inadequate. I never was the pretty-dresses-and-cute-shoes kind of girl. I didn’t know what accessorizing was, or how to put makeup on. In all the eighteen years of my life till then, I had made it solely on my books and my thoughts and my conversations. I was always a student. I mean, of course, I was in school like everyone else, but even apart from that, in my time, I was always learning. It was all I did.

  My family loved me, I had close friends, I had my books, not to mention my hopes and dreams and plans, and for the eighteen-year-old me, it was much more than I could’ve asked for. I’m the kind of person who thinks about these things – everything I have, what matters and what doesn’t, what should matter and what shouldn’t, things like that. I felt extremely fortunate for everything in my life. I was very well loved by the people I was surrounded by, and I was on my way to achieving all these dreams I had dreamed, at least in my head. I thought I would never need more, but until I met you, I never knew what I was missing out on.

  You came back for me. Fresh out of a shower, your hair wet and not spiky (thank God). I didn’t hear you or see you walk up to me, and your sudden appearance threw me. I saw your sneakers crawl up right above the book I was supporting on my lap. I quickly looked up and exhaled a loud what the. You just grinned a stupid lopsided grin and shook your head, making droplets of water fall on my face.

  ‘Can you not?’ My first words to you. It was perfect; it set the tone for our entire relationship, don’t you think? You were always … doing things, being funny and loud and taking up so much space. I was always rolling my eyes and shaking my head at you, but loving you madly, regardless.

  ‘Oops.’ Another lopsided grin.

  You never needed more, did you? Never needed to do more, put more effort into anything. You kind of just existed, and the world would fall at your feet. For one person, you had charm enough for ten. But I didn’t fall for it. You’ve always maintained that you would’ve fallen for me regardless, but babe, trust me – if I’d given you attention from day one, you would’ve been over me in a week, like all the other girls. But I appreciate how you always claim the contrary.

  By ignoring you, I wasn’t playing power games or anything. I didn’t even know what power games were, let alone how to play them. I simply hadn’t been the object of a boy’s fancy before and didn’t know how to respond, or … be. It didn’t help that I didn’t like you very much. The entitled asshole with the perfect life who got everything he wanted. No thanks. I wasn’t interested.

  You refused to leave me alone. I felt your eyes watching me wherever I went, whatever I did. Class, cafeteria, hallways, everywhere. Every time you walked into a room, your eyes found me and kept returning to me every few minutes. And I became aware of this because … I found my eyes doing the same. They were in love way before we were, our eyes. I remember feeling as though you were my true north. Every time I sensed you around me, my eyes would automatically redirect and locate you. Equal parts romantic and creepy. I would have it no other way. It was that intensity, that almost supernatural element, that madness that caught my attention.

  Once I got to know you, it felt like I was let in on a secret. As if no one knew anything but us. We were feeling all of these emotions that no one else knew about, or would even understand, or ever experience. People tend to get cocky in love. We were the cockiest.

  Oh God, we were insufferable, weren’t we? Two peas in a pod, always together, making everyone else feel bad about themselves by rubbing what we had in their faces.

  That day, at the stands, you refused to leave me alone. I told you repeatedly that I had an assignment deadline, but you just. wouldn’t. go. away. You made yourself comfortable in the seat next to me and stretched out your legs on the chairs in front of us – no intentions of leaving. I would have moved away, but you smelled good.

  We looked straight ahead, at the stadium. And I would alternate that with looking down at my books, and you, at me. In that hour that you sat with me, I looked at you and met your eyes like, twice. I didn’t care if you thought I was standoffish or stuck-up or anything. But while I acted as if you sitting there didn’t have any effect on me whatsoever, I remember the intensity and intimacy of it stirring something foreign in me.

  It’s still strange to me that the thing that stays with me the most from that day, apart from how great you smelled, is us looking at the empty stadium together while you talked. We were looking at the same thing, from the same vantage point, and I’m sure we were seeing different things, but it was the first thing we shared. In our first moments together, sitting side by side, looking at the empty stadium.

  Eventually, you stopped talking so much. You just sat there with me as I read. You would say something every once in a while, and I would shrug or grunt in response, trying not to engage with the campus playboy. You said something about my handwriting and how I was scribbling on the margins of my book with a fine-tipped pen, you commented on my hair blowing in the wind and covering most of my face, you even said something about my little sighs. The amount of attention you were paying me, the intensity of it, it was overwhelming. Nothing escaped your notice.

  I kept telling myself that you were up to no good, that nothing good could come out of entertaining you. And the nerd that I am, all I needed was a book and a pending assignment to keep me occupied while you continued being totally in my space.

  When I finished marking up everything I needed for my assignment, I gathered all my things and stood up. You followed suit and extended your hand for me to shake.

  ‘Do this again soon?’ you asked.

  I slipped all my books into my backpack and zipped up, deliberately, letting you hang. But in the end, I did shake your hand and meet your eyes. It was too much – the smell, the touch and the eyes, all together. The cumulative impact of those three things stunned me, but I contained myself the best I could.

  Holding my eyes, you tilted your head. ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Was this fun for you?’ I half-laughed, half-snorted.

  ‘Absolutely. The most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.’

  I rolled my eyes at that. I tried to pull my hand out of your grip but you wouldn’t let me.

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘You enjoy being practically invisible to girls?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course not. But you’re not just any girl. I would be honoured to be ignored by you every minute of the rest of my life,’ you said with flourish.

  ‘Oh, stop. You wouldn’t remember my name this time next week.’

  ‘False. Also, I need to know your name to forget it.’

  ‘Fact.’

  I pulled my hand away, successfully this time
, and began walking away. I was literally skipping, suddenly realizing the meaning of that word. Based on your behaviour so far that day, I’d expected you to follow, but you stayed back and yelled out after me, ‘You’re not going to tell me?’

  When I kept walking away, you yelled again, ‘Oh, come on! How is that fair? I’m invested in you. You have captured my attention, possibly even my heart, and soul, if I dig real deep. Lady, wherever you go, I shall find you. Don’t leave me now, I only just found you…’ You continued being super theatrical, I continued to walk away.

  I never turned back, but you were willing to bet that I was smiling as I walked away, and even though I never admitted this in the following five years that we were together – I was. I was smiling as you made a fool of yourself.

  I smiled, but I wasn’t taken. Not yet. I knew your reputation too well to want anything to do with you. And you stepped back too, so it was easy to push you out of my head. After that first time at the stands, I didn’t see you around for a few days and then, out of nowhere, you were everywhere. You didn’t say anything to me. As far as I could tell, you weren’t following me either, but you were everywhere I was.

  And our eyes kept doing their supernatural thing, finding their true north, siring a bond, something super weird/creepy like that. Then, one ordinary morning, as I juggled my books in my arms and rushed to class, preparing my leg to kick the door, you appeared out of nowhere and held it open for me. I glanced up as I thanked you, and realized it was you. You said hi. I said hi back.

  And the rest, as they say, is history. Or it could’ve been, if I hadn’t cut it short, for no apparent reason, and broken your heart and mine in the process.

  When I remember all the good times, I can’t think of a single reason big enough for us to not be together. Being away from you is a constant physical pain. A brick in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down, making me curl inwards, squeezing myself to become as small as I can.

 

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