Chapter 2: Regret and Rivalries

Half a month drifted by aimlessly. Each day blurred into the next, like the monsoon clouds rolling across the sky, heavy and restless.

I didn’t even want to touch my drawing tablet. The once-familiar urge to sketch my favourite game characters vanished, replaced by a dull ache in my chest.

Sometimes when my fingers itched to play, I’d remember my freshly-ex-boyfriend and feel a pang of emptiness, so I never logged in. Even the sight of my gaming mouse made me sigh, as if it, too, missed the thrill of battle.

Whenever I saw a funny meme and tried to share it, the missing pinned chat would remind me we’d broken up, and my heart would ache a little. Like those empty chai cups after all the guests have left, only memories and crumbs remain.

Maybe that’s just how online relationships are. Once you leave the game and the chat apps, you both just vanish into the sea of people. Our connection felt as fragile as a kite in August—one sharp tug, and it’s gone.

Maybe if we passed each other one day, we wouldn’t even recognise each other. A strange thought, but oddly comforting.

Sometimes, late at night when I missed him, I’d stare at our old messages, thumb hovering over the unblock button, tempted to reach out. But pride and pain stopped me every time. The regret lingered—had I let go too soon?

But then I remembered all the lies between us, and gave up. It wasn’t worth the heartache.

It was a relationship that wasn’t real and had no future. Just pixels and empty promises.

Better to cut my losses while I could. "Pehle hi bahut ho gaya," I muttered to myself, turning off the lights.

Out of the blue, my super-busy older sister contacted me.

She’d been shooting in the hills for half a year and finally came home. Her return felt like a small festival—bags everywhere, a flood of selfies, and her voice filling the house.

"Kuhu, let me borrow your game account."

I replied listlessly, "What for?" I barely had energy to argue.

Priya fussed with her hair, making sure every strand was perfect. She always did this before asking for favours, that little extra drama for effect.

"There’s a gaming event tomorrow. Your account has almost all the skins, right?"

"Let me use it."

"I want to give Sneha a good thrashing at the event."

Sneha—my sister’s arch-rival in the entertainment industry.

No matter where they went, they competed over everything. Even our house echoed with their rivalry, from who picked better sarees to who had the louder fan base on Instagram.

From designer lehengas to red carpet gowns, they had to fight over who was the most glamorous diva in the scene. Even family WhatsApp groups weren’t safe from their drama.

Now their rivalry had finally spilled over into the game. Not even the digital world could escape their competition!

My sister whispered, "Also, I got muted for trash-talking teammates a few days ago."

"I can’t let Sneha find out. She’ll never let me live it down."

......

I was speechless. Only Priya Didi could manage to get muted in a game for trash-talking and still be this shameless about it.

I’ve seen my sister in action—using a voice changer to flame blame-shifting teammates until they rage-quit on the spot. She was a terror both on-screen and off.

No wonder she got muted. I almost pitied Sneha for what was coming.

I waved her off: "Take it." It’s not like I had any use for it anymore.

I hadn’t logged in for ages.

Arjun had probably deleted me from his friends list by now.

Back then, I only managed to add him after pestering him for ages.

After I suddenly dumped him out of nowhere, he must’ve deleted me instantly. Typical male ego, my friends would say.

Such a shame about our couple tag, though. All those late nights grinding levels together...

I spent so many flowers to level it up to 52. Thinking of all those hours and gifts made me sigh—money and time, both gone like monsoon puddles after the sun comes out.