The Third Way Out

    “So yes, then he left and we’ve never talked again since that day,” she said with a forced smile.

    “That’s an interesting story,” he said after a moment. He knew he was lying and the story had not been interesting at all. She had spoken in bits and pieces, unable to suppress her emotions while speaking. Her voice broke off in some parts and she did not make any sense at times. He could hardly understand what exactly had gone wrong between the two of them, but he did not enquire further.

    They had now known each other for around three months, and by now, he knew that Sarah was not at her best while talking. He could sense the effort it took her to come out of her self-constructed walls but she had been trying. There was nothing common between the two of them but the fact that they could both relate to those impossibilities that life offered.

    “Do you still remember him?” he finally spoke, to continue the conversation.

    “Yes, I do. But I do not love him anymore.”

    “That’s okay. We all remember the worst for the best,” he said, trying to laugh. He wanted to change the subject and spoke out before she could reply to his statement. “You know, I read your last article and I think you have not been improving at all. You keep writing on these recurrent subjects. There is nothing new in your works these days. You need to explore new areas. I think you should…”

    “I think you should stop reading my works,” she retorted laughing. “That’s not how you change the subject!”

    “Perhaps I shouldn’t. I think we need to move on in our lives without keeping regrets. That’s what I wish for you. It is not easy, but you need to make an effort to move on.”

    “I will,” she said, after a pause. “There has to be a way out.”

    “There are two indeed; oblivion and acceptance. Choose one and get back to your normal life,” he laughed heartily as he stared at her thoughtful expression.

    “There is a third way out,” she replied, as her expressions changed with a cheerful wink, “I will turn him to a story; a story where his presence shall never be acknowledged and his absence shall never be accepted.”

    “That would be an interesting read,” he smiled. This time he knew he was not lying. “When do you plan to begin this story?”

    “I am already writing it, perhaps it’s again your turn now to do the same,” she said, with her usual smile.



    Author : Amrita Sharma

    Amrita is a writer from Lucknow. Her works have previously been published in Café Dissensus Everyday, Borderless Journal, Women’s Web, Tell Me Your Story, Muse India, New Academia, GNOSIS, Dialogue, The Criterion, Episteme and Ashvamegh.




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