Nightfall ✓

Chapter 18

• chapter eighteen •

'Our hearts are wild things, maybe that is why our ribs are cages.'

That was what the screen of my phone said when I picked it up after lunch. It was a message from Sana. Nice quote, I thought, and called her, because something was wrong. Whenever she was sad, she sent me quotes which described her situation, and then it was up to me to figure out what the hell had happened. It was a game we used to play as kids, but during the complicated process of 'growing up', I had stopped playing, because most of the time I was sad because I had to study all day long, and when one studies all day long, one simply doesn't have the time to look up quotes. Plus, I would have bored anyone to death, had I talked about my monotonous day.

"Hazel!" she said when she picked up. She was sniffing. Before I could say anything, she started sobbing, and then she was crying hard. I could just imagine her sitting on her bed with a tub of ice-cream, wiping her tears on her comforter.

While she was crying, I checked the 'clock' app on my phone. It was midnight in Delhi. "Sana? Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"How can I go to sleep?" she moaned. "Karan is cheating on me."

I wondered for a while who this Karan was till I remembered that she'd started dating him just weeks after I'd left for Louisville.

"How do you know he's cheating?"

"Because someone sent me pictures of him making out with another girl. He —he went to a party yesterday. He's all over that girl."

"And how do you know the pictures aren't fake? They could be photoshopped. There are so many bitches who do that. They photoshop pictures of guys they like and send them to their girlfriends, hoping they would breakup so that they can seduce the boys or whatever."

"They don't look photoshopped." She started crying again.

"Then maybe Karan was super-drunk! If he was, then you can't blame him for kissing someone else. He wasn't himself."

"I don't know." She sniffed. "You're so sensible. I called Sharon, and she started plotting a revenge plan."

I laughed. That was so her. "Have you talked to Karan?"

"No."

"What—? Some random person sent you pictures and you totally believe them, and you don't think it's important to ask him his side of the story?" I sat down on my orange, L-shaped couch. "Listen, Sana: change your perspective, and the story changes."

"What am I going to ask him?"

"Show him the photos and tell him that if he doesn't like you anymore, then he should just tell you and you won't hate him for it. And don't shout at him, it will probably make him angry. If you ask softly, he might even feel guilty. You know."

"I really love him, Hazel."

I exhaled. That was something. She had never said that about any guy, except one, and that was very long ago.

"Okay," she continued, "forget all of that. What if he's really cheating? What if he's cheating and then he asks me for a second chance?"

"What do you want to do if he does ask?"

"I don't know. I still love him, obviously. I can't 'unlove' him instantly, you know. But if I take him back, people will say I have no self-respect and I'm easy to get. Ugh. Why do I still want him?"

"Of course you still want him. And there's nothing wrong with that, okay? And listen. If you want to give him a second chance, then do. Don't think about what stupid people will say. People always have something to say. Loving is something you do from the heart. Don't let your brain interfere, you hear me? So if he asks for a second chance, forget about ego and self-esteem and mind games or whatever and think about your happiness for a while, okay?"