Shabab stayed silent, looking at the window blinds, as the clock ticked. Dr. Humaira, the psychiatrist, waited for him to open up. The awkward silence turned the counselling session delicate.
“You miss her, don’t you?” she asked.
“More than anything.”
Shabab again persisted to stay mum. He began to think of the last conversation he had with her, and how it was the last time he smiled.
“When did you last talk to her?”
“It’s been two weeks.”
“And she made you cry, didn’t she?”
“She made me smile too. That’s because her laugh is the most amazing sound I’ve heard.”
There’s presence of both the light and dark in a relationship. As humans, we always expect to see the light. We don’t realize that there is presence of the dark too, and when the amount of it is more than the light, it will hurt.
“When you fell in love with her, you created a character. A character who was meant to be with her. Now that the story is over, kill the character, Shabab. It’s of no use.”
“It’s a story. What is the possibility of the character coming back?”
“No Shabab, no. Remember what she did to you. You did not listen to me last week. Listen to me now. Just take the pills. Follow the routine for a week, and you will forget her.”
“If I just expect to love her with the condition for her to love me back, how am I any different?”
Shabab began to sob like a crybaby. He overlooked the fact that he had been ‘used’ for her diversion, and she had been ‘used’ for his dejection. Reality is that we are all selfish at the end of the day. We all want ourselves to be happy and our happiness is more important than somebody else’s. In this story, Shabab was selfish too. The difference was that he saw his happiness in someone else.
“You just met her once, and you kept on carrying this stupid conversation every day. I am warning you Shabab, stay away before you get more hurt.”
“Your advice is not helping, ma’am.”
“You might call me the worst psychiatrist ever, but as a patient, you’re no less.” She said with a bit of anger.
“Dr. Humaira, you surely are not aware of the term ‘attachment’.”
Shabab had felt incomplete all his life. When he had finally found the piece of puzzle to sew up his heart, he realized that maybe that piece of puzzle was the piece to complete someone else’s heart too. With a heavy heart he went home, taking the pills that Dr. Humaira prescribed.
Even with the intention of sleeping, he stayed awake till 4’AM in the morning, just to see the messenger chat head with her face which said- ‘active now’. Being unable to control his emotions, he greeted her.
“Why are you awake?” Dr. Humaira texted him.
“How do you know?”
“I do my homework. You don’t need to know how. I don’t see how you are holding on to her.”
“I am not holding on to her. I am holding on to the memories. She might let go, but the memories won’t.”
“Why are you attempting to be heartbroken again?”
“To make more memories.”