7

JHANVI

It’s expected of human beings to cope, to somehow move on from an unimaginable tragedy. When an animal loses its friend, its life partner, we justify their behaviour, their inability to eat or sleep and their incessant crying, telling others how bad we feel for them. How great their heartache must be. But people? People are expected to move on, seemingly unaffected by their grief. We expect that grief comes with an expiry date and that, after that date, everything should return to the way it was. People are expected to be unchanged and unbreakable. The truth is that grief is immeasurable, insurmountable at times, and life will never be the same again. You will be changed; it will never be the same again even if you choose to pretend you are unchanged.

I opened my eyes; it was ten in the morning and the sun was streaming through my bedroom window. I groaned and rolled over. Taking my phone off charge, I put the code in to unlock it. I opened my account—seventeen thousand likes and a few thousand comments. Scrolling through the comments, I noticed the young girl from the market the day before. I hit reply and typed a personalised response before getting out of bed and walking through to the bathroom. I washed my face and applied my makeup to look as natural as possible. Brushing my hair, I put the curling iron through the front sections before setting it with dry shampoo. I switched off the curling iron and returned to my bedroom, taking off my tracksuit top and choosing a champagne camisole. Slipping it on, I got back into bed, grabbing my phone on the way. I angled the camera until the light was exactly right, and took bursts of photos that I could scroll through while I was having my morning tea. Climbing back out of bed, I opened Kavya’s message from the night before and typed a quick response saying we could meet for coffee in an hour.

In the kitchen, I made myself a cup of green tea and opened my phone gallery. Scrolling through the photos I’d just taken, I chose one where I was smiling, the sun was hitting my face, and the sheets were pulled up to my chin. If I were one of my followers, I would believe that my life was perfect. I opened the filter app and used my usual face tuning tricks before posting it to my account with the caption ‘newly single and loving it’. Instantly, my screen began to fill with hearts.

I smiled as I sipped my tea. By the end of next month, I would reach half a million followers. I would finally be happy; I didn’t need a man to validate me. Putting my cup in the sink, I walked back into my bedroom to be confronted with my unmade bed.

‘Making your bed is the right way to start your day, Jhanvi,’ my dad used to say. ‘It means you have already completed one thing.’