Chapter 6: Welcome Home, Misal Pav and All
I saw her come out, sunglasses on, arm in arm with a tall guy, laughing and chatting.
They left and got in a cab. My car was still in the underground lot, so I couldn’t follow. By the time I got home, my girlfriend was already there.
She acted completely normal, ran up and hugged me, saying she didn’t tell me her flight info because she wanted to surprise me.
Then she took two boxes of misal pav out of her suitcase, saying she got them for me despite her busy schedule.
Airport ka misal pav, she says. As if I can’t spot the plastic wrap from a mile away.
For the next few days, I played it cool in front of her. When she showered, I secretly checked her chat history with that guy.
Only two words: filthy, shameless.
I never knew my girlfriend could be so wild.
Proper in public, wild in bed—that’s her. Worse yet, not in my bed, but someone else’s.
I contacted the guy on WhatsApp, said my budget was big—critical illness, medical, life, accident insurance, whatever he had, make as many plans as possible for me to compare.
To show off my financial power, I posted photos of my buddy’s Audi and villa with a pool on my Status, just letting him see, but never posted my own stuff to avoid exposing myself.
He got even more enthusiastic, calling me "bro" left and right, sending good morning texts every day, reminding me to dress warm or bring an umbrella if it rained.
Damn, sometimes I woke up groggy thinking my mum was messaging me.
I’d reply with a thanks now and then.
A few more days went by, then I saw my girlfriend’s alt account post:
"You say our love is deep but fate is shallow. I say it’s just you not being brave enough to love."
That pissed me off.
If he’s not brave enough for love, fine, I’ll make the first move.
Anyway, after chatting with the guy for a while, the groundwork was set.
Sometimes, I caught myself laughing quietly—what a triangle, straight out of a Maniratnam movie, except here I was the joker with the popcorn, watching my own heartbreak unfold.