I had always been a less confident girl primarily because I wasn't perfect looking amongst a horde of beautifully packed females. My visits to salons included only haircuts. I wanted to embrace myself exactly the way God made me. I also had crooked teeth. I still have. I didn't put on the braces because I was comfortable with an imperfect smile.

But the story starts now. My real life started when I entered my engineering college. I found an impeccable bunch of friends and a perfect soulmate. He was a year younger to me.

Belonging to a strict college situated on the outskirts of the city, we preferred traveling in the college bus with austere rules. Despite the rough laws, we managed to fall in love. I vividly remember the first time I saw him. He was a tall, moderately built guy wearing a red-and-blue chequered shirt, bespectacled with tiny eyes and trying to find a life in the songs he was listening to. Within a week, we were talking and we became inseparable. I did not even realize when I grew fond of him.

Deep down, my anxiety was on a rise too. He was a very good looking boy who belonged to a beautiful family. Girls swooned over him. My nights used to end with a mental debate on “How could such a handsome guy fall for me?” I still didn’t choose to look prettier by artificial means.

We talked throughout the day and chatted the nights away. We didn't have WhatsApp then and hence found solace in those limited SMS packs.
No one realized when those three years passed. I graduated and went on to pursue MBA, whereas he was still wrapping up his supplementary exams.

It was my parents' 25th anniversary in October, when I decided to propose to him.

I bunked my lectures to confess my love to him. I chose the easier path to do it over phone. Never did I fumble so much while talking to him. He had no idea what was I trying to do. The only thing I was doing was testing his patience, without fail! I finally collected all my guts to say "I love you" and started crying. I composed myself in a vacant auto rickshaw and cried relentlessly till I drained myself. All this while, he was on the call pacifying and giving me all the reassurances in the world. I still don't know if it was the insecurity of my love or myself that made me cry.

I was happy that we were finally together, or so I thought. Time flew and I fell in love with him with every passing second. I wanted time to freeze every time we met. Sitting silently with my head tilted on his shoulder offered me one of the best feelings. We used to meet at the Hauz Khas Fort to sit, talk, and to enjoy our silences. In the middle of making love, we fought a lot too. I had massive mood swings and a few of his female friends created havoc on our relationship. One was a girlfriend of his friend and the other was a mutual friend, fresh out of a breakup on the verge of ending her life. The latter eventually fell for him.

Later in December, it was the wedding of my boyfriend’s sister. I wanted to surprise him with my presence and gifting his family a collage of their photographs. To my surprise, I was shocked to see the break-up girl already there, her eyes glued to him. I avoided her but she found me. She tried to befriend me by narrating how she’s come here from a small town to pursue her dreams by studying her favorite subject, history, in a reputed college.

It didn’t take her a minute to focus from history to him. Now that we were discussing him, she was unstoppable. She made me feel like the second woman who wasn’t aware of her man’s habits and whereabouts. She even had the audacity to tell me how close they had grown, both emotionally and physically.

All this while, I could see him looking and gesturing at me to eat something. How could I tell him I was already full? I felt suffocated and walked towards the exit of the hall. I heard him calling my name but I kept moving forward. He held my hand and asked me to come inside to meet his family. I suddenly melted and submitted to him. We climbed the stage to meet the couple, smiled and clicked a picture.

His sister knew about us. She was delighted to see me. We got down and went towards his mom. She was equally pleased to see me. But the moment I turned around, my sight got hold of the female who made me the second woman in my relationship. My temper shot up again and I left the venue. He followed me yet again to inquire why I was leaving so early. He wanted me to stay back. But I couldn’t stand her. I hugged him and left.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I was choked. The unwanted thoughts didn’t let me breathe. The woman had already poisoned my heart. I didn’t want to be the second woman. I felt more insecure. I had always been sure that a sane guy would never want to spend his life with me. He was playing with me all this while. I was suddenly connecting the dots.

I now comprehended the reasons why he didn’t take my calls or denied meeting me. I stalked her on social media and came across some photos of both of them looking comfortably in love. She was right. I was the second woman. Our love of six years didn’t take even six minutes to end amicably. I was broken. I wanted to die. I felt cheated. I felt miserable.

The following day, I messaged him why I left early the last night. I asked him to end our relationship. He drove to my place to offer me the same reassurances. He said he won’t talk to her again. He kept maintaining that she was just another friend in his huge friend circle.

I artificially nodded and asked him to leave. It was his sister’s post-wedding ceremony before she left for the States.

My lectures in college which meant chatting with him, now meant daydreaming about the good times with him and crying in depression. My friends were worried. I cried. They tried to cheer me up. I tried to smile but ended up cried. They took me to new places. I cried everywhere. I needed medical support.

My parents were concerned. They hated him now. My exams were approaching. It was difficult for me to study. I challenged myself and scored pretty good marks. I also got placed in an MNC.

This changed my life. I was learning new things, exploring new places, meeting new people and gaining new confidence. I started believing in myself and my talent. My seniors were applauding me for my work. No one cared about how I looked. My work mattered to them, nothing else. I had almost forgotten him but every fortnight, I had attacks when I missed him a lot. The void was still there. I met many guys but no one matched up to him. His love seemed ideal.

He tried regularly to mend things. We met, decided to sort it out, but every trial ended with the same topic- her! I hated both of them more. There have been two incidents when I drunk dialled him. I cried in front of India Gate at 2 AM explaining how he ruined everything. Why was I not sufficient enough that he had to love another woman? I blamed myself for this.

It's been more than eight years that we've known each other now. I’m now happily working with an e-commerce giant, meeting new people almost every day. I am successful enough to satiate my materialistic needs. He has moved to a different city for further studies. We still want to make things work but we don’t admit it. She is still the topic of arguments.

He still haunts me. I still crave for his love. He still reassures me. I still doubt him.

Maybe I will find someone to spend my life with but that will happen only because he gave me the reasons to un-love him. My parents make me meet some of the best guys but his shadow doesn't let me move on, even now!

I'm also a poet and a writer. I have a blog page with an audience. He’s one of them. I still don’t have the guts to tell the world (or him) that however bad he was, I still love him. I still feel for him. I still lust his caramelized lips. His touch still gives me jitters. He gave me the bitterest of memories but his loves still soothes them. I still think of him when I see other happy couples. I still avoid calling him when I’m drunk. I still pray for him. I still want him to stay happy. I still want to marry him. I still want to fight with him. I still want to spend sleepless nights with him. I still want to keep writing about him. All he needs to do is to give this imperfect girl all his love for the whole life. Would he?

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