Stories We Never Tell

DEDICATED TO
Everyone who still searches for hope and happiness in the forgotten world of books

There are stories of loss, darkness and destruction. But then there are always stories of hope, light and recovery, waiting to be told.

Contents

PROLOGUE

1. JHANVI

2. ASHRAY

3. JHANVI

4. ASHRAY

5. JHANVI

6. ASHRAY

7. JHANVI

8. ASHRAY

9. JHANVI

10. ASHRAY

11. JHANVI

12. ASHRAY

13. JHANVI

14. ASHRAY

15. JHANVI

16. ASHRAY

17. JHANVI

18. ASHRAY

19. JHANVI

20. ASHRAY

21. JHANVI

22. ASHRAY

23. JHANVI

24. ASHRAY

25. JHANVI

26. ASHRAY

27. JHANVI

28. ASHRAY

29. JHANVI

30. ASHRAY

31. JHANVI

32. ASHRAY

33. JHANVI

34. KAVYA

35. ASHRAY

36. RISHI

37. JHANVI

38. DR SHYAM

39. ASHRAY

EPILOGUE

TO MY READERS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE BOOK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A MUST READ

Copyright

PROLOGUE

A simpler time; a time when life didn’t move at this frenetic pace, when love meant something, and what you owned was worth less than who you came home to. When people measured their wealth by the number of people in their lives that truly loved them and who they loved in return.

When life wasn’t about what someone wore or where they lived. When family and friends mattered, and a person’s pain meant something other than someone else’s entertainment. Technology and social media were supposed to bring us closer together, to help us identify and understand that we are not alone, but somehow it has become twisted, skewed into a show of how many materialistic items one person can accumulate and how much abuse another can take. We watch and wait for them to slip, to fall, as confirmation of their humanity. To make us feel better about our own imperfections as human beings.

And in the end? When all is said and done, will it matter? What possessions you owned, what car you drove, how many people pretended to care. Does any of this madness mean anything other than that we once breathed? I don’t think it does. I think all that matters is that we were happy and that we were loved. That there were people, not things, surrounding us when times were dark, and that somehow, we always managed to find our way back when we were lost.

1

JHANVI

Heartbreak. Have you ever felt it? The undeniable pain; a moment, a realisation, changes the course of your life. When one action, whether it is your own or that of another, forces you to choose. Choosing between leaving them behind or clinging to a memory of what was. Heartbreak. A human condition, a threat to our sanity that only takes a moment to change our lives.

I had found out about Puneet’s latest fling through a friend. After he was caught the first time, he promised that it was just a temporary slip: he’d had too much to drink, and the girl had come on to him. In the ensuing confrontation and fall out, Puneet had insinuated that I set him up for failure. I had somehow led him into making out with the girl at the club because of my lifestyle. I had, of course, denied this to begin with, telling my boyfriend that I would not take responsibility for his infidelity, but fighting with him to get my point across was tiring. My life—or certainly the latter part of my teenage years and now as an adult—was spent avoiding conflict. Not that I lacked the backbone to stand up for myself. But my sense of self told me that my words hurt people, and hurting people meant that I was imperfect. A fate worse than death, as far as I was concerned.

Eventually, I relented and promised Puneet I would try and be more considerate to him when we were out in public. This was my third relationship since my social media profile had exploded online. His indiscretion hurt me, forced me to build walls around my heart and, in hindsight, I was guarded, a little bent but not yet broken by him. The fact that he said I made him feel like a failure, that my actions had set him up for those feelings, hit hard. I never wanted to make anyone feel that way because I had spent my life trying to avoid failure in the pursuit of perfection.

My first boyfriend was unable to understand the complexities of being online all the time and eventually broke up with me, saying I was emotionally unavailable because I was so preoccupied with keeping up appearances. He was my high school sweetheart, and when he walked out of my life, it hurt; not just because I lost him as a follower, but because I saw a future with him, complete with two perfect children. He was my whole life, and to him, I was only a chapter in his life. Merely some words to complete his story. I was lonely after Aarav left, and I found myself in the arms of another suitor not long after. Gaurav popped up in my inbox with messages of adoration and promises of a formidable future. He too had a large social media following and understood what I needed to do to push myself into becoming a top influencer. We had fun, taking pictures and posing as the perfect couple for six months, before the cracks began to show in our relationship. Our days were filled taking couples’ photos under crisp white sheets with ‘good morning!’ captions and other meticulously planned pictures in various locations. We barely communicated otherwise, and that suited me. I was never a great talker anyway.

When I finally asked Gaurav about the girls in his various inboxes, he shut me down.

‘This is part of the business, Jhanvi. Surely you have just as many male admirers in your inboxes?’ Gaurav had laughed it off.

I tried to find my voice, to fight back, but somewhere along the line, I had lost my ability to stand up for myself. Instead of pushing back and demanding a change in his behaviour, I accepted his explanation. I did have plenty of men sending me messages, everything from declarations of love to unsavoury photos of their genitalia. The difference was that I did not entertain them the way Gaurav did. I felt like I was in constant competition with a world of women. It drove me to pursue perfection even more relentlessly, in a bid to show them that they were not in my league.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Gaurav’s followers began to filter onto my social media slowly, my following grew steadily, and he taught me how to work the system. It wasn’t long before we were being let into clubs and restaurants free of charge, as long as we documented it online. In a way, I always knew that he was not one hundred per cent faithful to me, and I accepted that. He provided a good life for me, and he was helping me build my career; as long as it stayed out of the public eye, I was all right with it.

One day, a short video clip began to circulate on social media. It showed Gaurav getting out of a girl’s bed naked, and walking towards the camera. The girl, a relatively unknown social media entity, posted it online. Overnight, she became a sensation, while my life fell apart.

‘Do you have any idea what you have done?’ I screamed at Gaurav. As usual, the wrong words came out. ‘You have destroyed me! Destroyed us!’ I couldn’t stop the wave of emotion that was screaming to be let out. I didn’t want a fight, I was ready to admit defeat the moment I saw the post online, but I was humiliated.

‘You are always so dramatic, Jhanvi,’ he said, his mouth curved into a cocky smile as if he was enjoying my pain. ‘You have always known what this life brings with it, and you aren’t exactly pure and innocent either,’ he continued, ignoring my tears. His smug expression was all I needed to see him for who he really was.

Online, sides were picked, and a few times after the initial outburst, I did try to tell Gaurav how betrayed I felt. But, ultimately, I couldn’t find the inner strength to get my point across. Comments flew around online about how the girl was nothing special. Gaurav occupied a different girl’s bed every other day. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. Our relationship was over, but I had no idea what kind of damage would be done to our reputation—or my reputation, specifically.

I was humiliated, but I did not feel the emotional devastation I had when Aarav split up with me. The day I decided I could not bear it any longer, the words finally came. ‘Sleeping with these other women is so disrespectful to our relationship, Gaurav. We are two people who decided to commit to each other. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.’

He tried to apologise, but it was too late. In the aftermath, I filled my time online posting excuses for why my relationship had deteriorated, and building a facade that everything was all right. Behind the scenes, I plunged myself into my work, watching how my followers increased and how the demographics changed from young women trying to emulate me to young men trying to offer me some comfort.

And then, there was Puneet. I didn’t meet him online; I decided after Gaurav to shy away from any man with a popular online profile. We met on a bus, and he didn’t know who I was, which I found intriguing. At the beginning of our relationship, I hid my social media presence from him. Eventually, as our relationship progressed, I had to be honest with him. I needed to make social appearances, even if they were few and far between. Slowly, Puneet was introduced to my lifestyle: restaurants, clubs, clothing. I enjoyed dressing him up and introducing him to my followers and my world. But as he became more involved in my life, he also became more distant from me. He was more concerned about what people thought about him than my presence in his life. Days spent wandering the markets, holding hands and having deep conversations were replaced with superficial shots of us pretending to be in love. And it wasn’t that I didn’t love him, I just wished he would pay the same amount of attention to me as he did when we first began our courtship.

His first indiscretion happened in front of me. Admittedly, his statement that he was drinking heavily was true. We went out for a club opening; all expenses paid, of course. I made it a rule not to drink when I was on the job. Sure, I would pose with a glass of champagne or whatever was offered, but I never actually drank what was given to me. That particular appearance was Puneet’s first introduction to a big event where everything was paid for. The alcohol flowed freely in the VIP area, and it wasn’t long before the usual crowd of hangers-on made their way over to try and integrate themselves into the ‘influencer’ crowd. Puneet, who was already slightly intoxicated at that stage, welcomed in a group of girls who quickly made themselves more comfortable than they should have.

I busied myself with photos of the great time I was having. Selfies and group shots with club-goers were put into swipe stories which featured videos of the DJ playing music—all to show how grand the party was. I could not include Puneet in these stories, though; he was too drunk. Instead, I tasked him with staying in the VIP area to socialise with the groupies.

I was dancing on the main stage when I caught sight of what was happening. Being careful not to draw negative attention to myself, I made my way through the crowded main dance area and up the stairs to the VIP section. As I reached the landing, one of the two groupie girls I had seen from the stage swung her leg over Puneet’s lap and mounted him, before kissing him deeply. I was in total shock; I couldn’t move for a few seconds. My feet were glued to the floor like I was standing in thick mud, unable to move forward or choose to step away.

‘He will push her off,’ I told myself, but it never happened. Instead, he seemed to pull the girl closer to him. Feelings of humiliation from Gaurav’s betrayals flooded through my brain as I launched myself out of my frozen state. By the time I reached my boyfriend and the girl, a friend had pulled her off Puneet’s lap. I remained composed.

‘It’s time for you ladies to go,’ I said, my gaze never leaving Puneet. Dignity and grace were essential to avoid any further online gossip about my love life. Even though what I really wanted to do was explode in rage. Puneet stood up to try and defend himself, but he was so drunk that he staggered and swayed before sitting down again.

‘You are drunk and embarrassing. Please don’t leave the VIP area until I’m back,’ I managed to say calmly, before requesting a nearby waitress to bring sweet black coffee and water for him. I also asked that the bouncer not allow any more groupies into the VIP area. I was able to keep my composure as I walked through the crowd and into the ladies’ room, even stopping to pose with a group of men who wanted a picture.

‘Selfie?’ they asked, and then, not waiting for an answer, they draped their sweaty arms heavily across my shoulders.

‘Sure,’ I muttered, although I knew that my answer was unheard.

‘You are quite beautiful,’ one man leaned into me and shouted over the music. This time I couldn’t respond with anything other than a smile. The weight of their arms on me seemed only to amplify the weight that was pressing against my chest.

The ladies’ room was full of chattering girls applying lipstick and posing for photos next to the stylish chaise longue. I found a free stall and escaped inside. Once the stall door closed, a flood of tears erupted. In my mind, I formulated a plan of how I could deny yet another cheating boyfriend online. Hopefully, no one had taken photos of Puneet’s make-out session. But I had to be honest with myself—it was doubtful.

‘Get yourself together, Jhanvi,’ I whispered, opening my bag. I removed my compact and re-applied my makeup. Dark brown eyes, almost black, looked back at me as I touched up the thick kohl around my eyes. Exiting the stall, I saw a group of young women milling by the bathroom mirror, talking excitedly about the evening.

‘Excuse me,’ I said as I politely pushed through to wash my hands.

‘You’re Jhanvi!’ one of the girls said. ‘Please! You must take a picture with us!’ She thrust her cell phone forward as the other girls gathered around. I nodded my head, not quite ready to commit myself to words for fear of tears pushing through again.

‘You can do this, Jhanvi,’ I told myself as I left the ladies’ room. For the remainder of the night, I busied myself down in the crowd, eventually making my way back up to Puneet, who was looking sorry for himself.

‘This music is hurting my head,’ he muttered like a belligerent toddler. The coffee and water had begun to take effect; I could see that a hangover was beginning to set in.

‘The music is no different to what it was when you were drunk and sticking your tongue into another woman’s mouth,’ I shot back. I had already told the club manager that we were leaving. ‘Get up, let’s go,’ I hissed at him. He pulled himself off the couch, steadier on his feet this time. The taxi drive back to his apartment was silent; I was not ready to talk to him about what had transpired on our first big night out together. Climbing the stairs to his one-bedroom apartment, we remained silent. It was only once we were inside that either one of us decided to speak.

‘You know my history,’ I began the conversation I could see he was trying to avoid. ‘What Gaurav did to me almost broke me, and now you, Puneet.’

‘I’m drunk, Jhanvi, and was even more drunk then,’ he whined. His eyes were bloodshot, and I thought I saw regret somewhere behind the raging hangover that was taking control of him. I let it slide, not interested in a rehash of the drama caused by Gaurav’s infidelity.