"You could never resist my omelettes." I tell him while beating the eggs in my favourite blue bowl.

He stares at me for a moment and sighs. The bowl clinks everytime the fork hits its walls.

"Omelettes?" I ask him.

"You know I can't eat it." He replies.

"Fine, I'll have them alone." I start chopping onions. Silence has always been unbearable for me. "So, how's life now?"

"What life?" He shrugs and gives me his characteristic smirk.

I exhale a long, heavy breath, which I hadn't realised I had been holding.

"Okay, how has it been, you know, after...." I can't really find the words, "...after leaving me." I mutter in a single breath.

"Oh." He says.

Yeah, oh indeed.

We fall silent again. I've chopped the onions smaller than I had intended to.

"Ugh! Not again." I mumble, more to myself than him.

"What's wrong?" His brows shoot up.

"I like my onions chunky. I've finely chopped them, yet again."

"It's okay. You can chop some more"

"It won't be the same onion, right?"

To that, he has no answer.

"Right." He never looks up at me. Not even once. He's sitting on the countertop, drawing tiny imaginary circles on the granite slab. His favourite spot in the kitchen.

Used to be.

I finally decided to address the gigantic elephant in the room. "It was going so good. Why did you have to leave?"

A slow smile spreads across his lips. A rather sad one. "I've told you a thousand times already. I'm sorry, Shruti."

I add the onions to the eggs, giving them a good mix. I carefully add oil to the now smoking pan.

The eggs look runny. I can feel my nose trying to compete with them.

He strolls across the kitchen toward me, stopping only when he's inches apart.

"Look at me, Shruti."

I can't. I try, but I can't. I add the eggs to the pan and desperately search for the spatula. Organising stuff has never been my strength.

The maroon shirt he's wearing looks morose today. So much different from the happy colour it was, back when we had bought it together.

I go to the window and place my hands on the cold aluminum sill. He moves to stand behind me. I'm paralysed. Even my breath refuses to let go of my lungs.

"We can chop another onion." He whispers.

"Are you out of your mind?" I am half screaming, half pleading.

"No, trust me. We can."

And I trust him, even after he has broken it once, I still trust him.

I turn around, and all the oxygen leaves my body the moment I look into his eyes. They're real, alive, burning. I see life in them, my life, 'our' life.

He wraps his left arm around me and cups my face with the right. I should feel something, anything. But I feel nothing. I only know that I'll fall. The worse part is I know that I'll happily fall for him, no matter how much it hurts.

***

"Hi."

"Hey! What's up, Shruti?"

"I burnt the eggs."

"What?"

"Yeah, I burnt the eggs again."

"Because you were thinking about him?"

"He was there, Gayatri."

"Shruti, it's been 6 years. He's not there anymore."

"He said we can chop another onion."

"Shruti... I'm sorry, I'm in the middle of a meeting right now. Promise me you'll not miss your appointment with the doctor at 2 pm today. And please eat your meds on time."

"Promise."

"Take care, I'll see you at 5."

"Bye."

After she hangs up, I pick up another egg and break it into a bowl. It breaks, without any noise.


© dusty roses

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