The sun-dappled day gleamed inside the room. Ankita woke up with a terrible headache. Raju sat on the bed, steering the tea in a porcelain cup and gently put it on her lap. She gulped the tea. He watched her with admiration and a large smile appeared on his face.
"You are not going to ask how you woke up in my bedroom?" Raju quizzed her. She scornfully said, "Of course, I was inebriated." "Thank you," she nodded. "By the way, you know who I am right!"
He picked up the newspaper and glossy magazine where her pictures were all over, posing in front of the newly launched luxury Sedan car. "Supermodel," Raju winked. Ankita smiled shyly. They made love in the morning, voraciously tearing into each other's clothes, smooching passionately and biting into the flesh. Ankita moved into Raju's apartment overlooking the Arabian Sea.
The lovers were inseperable like flowers blooming inside the bud until one day when Ankita had to leave the city for the launch of a new product. She tried calling Raju's phone number but the network was jammed. He was travelling when a blast rocked the city and trains from Churchgate to Andheri exploded. The air tickets were booked. Ankita was unware of the terror attack and boarded the flight. She felt a frantic heart beat and her instinct was not wrong. "Has he left me for someone better? No! It can never happen." A fear engulfed her and she became restless during the flight from Mumbai to Delhi, unaware of the terrorist attack.
Days later she came to know about the terror attack but was unaware that Raju was traveling in the local train that became the prey of bombs. On that fateful morning, Raju sneaked out of the bed after they made love and had the most amazing sex. He didn't want to disturb her for he knew that his lady love was having a hectic schedule, with shoots and product launch. Raju was late and dashed his way to the station but missed the train by a whisker.
Days later, Ankita was preparing herself for the show when one of the models showed her the picture of Raju that was published on the front page of Times of India as one of the victims. She collapsed on the floor. Ankita shed tears for days and night, losing her soul but also a very precious part of her identity that was brutally taken away from her. It took her days to get out of the bed but deep down, the bruised soul was convinced she could never be the same. Ankita threw away her phone. She underwent depression and switched cities.
Ankita couldn't accept this reality and shunted people from her life, abandoning her career as a model. There was not a day when Raju didn't haunt her in the sleep. She would often jostle out of the bed in the middle of nights. She couldn't forget him after three years, the chiselled face and squealed on the bed.
Five years has elapsed. Ankita resisted everyone who convinced her to move on with her life but it felt that she was waging a lone battle. She often cracked and lost herself. Finally, she buckled down under presssure to tie the knot with her school friend. It was the day of her engagment. Ankita was decked in a red kanjeevaram sari and adorned with expensive jewellery when Aniket gracefully dressed in a orange colorful Kurta-Pyjama, walked with relatives and friends to exchange rings. It was also the roko ceremony. Aniket insisted to introduce Ankita to his childhood friend. He blindfolded her with a pink band to usher her inside the room.
The calm and suave fiance gently whispered inside Ankita eyes, "Stop being restless. Count for one minute. You know him." Ankita was taken aback and counted the minutes in her mind but at the same time, her past life kept popping.
