Truth is sadder than fiction

She sat on her bed hugging her knees tightly, rocking back and forth trying to calm herself. Her small unlit apartment was oppressively hot and stifling but that wasnt what was weighing her down at the moment. 

"But it had not always been like this" she muttered to herself. Her mind wandered back to their initial days of courtship- the fun dinners, their light easy conversation, his intelligent comments to everything she used to say- how carefree she had been then!. She had imagined herself to be special- he was always dismissive or mildly condescending about all women but she had assumed that he thought of her as different- after all, he chose to go around with her. She couldnt deny it, she did feel slightly smug about it.She had a right to be-  their relationship wasnt like any other. None of the cloyingly sweet romance that was on display all over the campus. They were too cool and casual and she had always wanted it that way. 

Just when did cool slowly but surely morph into cold? 

Was it with the mockery- light and friendly in the beginning ( nothing she couldnt take, in fact she wore it proudly on her sleeve as a mark of their coolness) but somewhere along the way turned into disrespect? Was it with his absolute disregard for her opinions in private and embarrassingly so in public? Her restaurant suggestions did not count-they always went where he wanted. His interests, needs and ideas came first. She had accepted it indulgently, hey, she wasnt one of those whiny nagging types who would keep their boyfriends on leash. He had no respect for that type, she knew- he had made it abundantly clear to her. 

The doorbell rang, hesitantly at first and then impatiently. She let it ring. She had no energy to step off the bed now. 

She couldnt understand it. It seemed like just yesterday that she was walking proudly by his side, holding his arms. Slowly she had began taking tentative steps, letting him walk ahead- letting him guide her. Before she knew it she had blended into his shadow and he was walking all over her.  She couldnt point out when exactly this happened.  Was it when he made disparaging remarks about what she said in front of their friends? Earlier she never took them seriously and would reply with a flippant fitting retort which would earn his grudging respect ( Ah, how she loved that look). Over time somehow she had began ,unknowingly, to believe whatever he had said and in the place of a witty comeback all she had was mute rage. As if she was trapped in a dream where her brain is willing her to say something and her mouth was not able to spell out the words.   

She had been a free bird soaring the sky - why did she find herself on the ground with clipped wings and no zeal to take flight again? In his elaborate manipulative spin he had controlled her, broken her spirit, made her feel worthless ,feel that she had to work hard to keep him- she didnt deserve a prize catch like him. And she had started believing it. And she tried so hard to prove that she was worthy of him. So hard that she had started becoming the person she thought he would like, so much that she had forgotten what it was to be herself. 

Her stomach grumbled.  She had to make do with Maggi. No patience for her cooking skills now. 

She had learnt to cook what he liked. Because he believed that women needed to know how to cook. When exactly did her feminist tendencies leave her? 

 How did I let this happen to me? she wondered listlessly. Did I let myself be abused? But abuse doesnt happen to educated women- it happens to poor women living in slums whose husbands beat them up for money. People raise their eyebrows in respect when I tell them my qualifications. This just could not have happened. He is also an educated person.  No, its not abuse, she tried consoling herself. But she knew the truth. As did her friends,  whose attitude towards her had lately moved in the direction of pity. 

Her phone rang. She disconnected it. She will call them back. She scrolled through her playlist and "Perhaps perhaps perhaps" came on. That had become her song recently. 

There were a lot of "Perhaps" sentences she could think of. Perhaps she should have called it off when he was being evasive about a commitment. Perhaps she should have realised when his frivolity and disregard spilled over from words to actions. Perhaps..

Maybe she should go on a vacation to clear her mind, as all her friends had suggested. But she knew it would be of no use. What was she going to do on that vacation? Sit and brood about how things had gone? Was there any way she could leave herself behind when she went for that vacation ? She didnt have anything to do on a vacation. She only had herself with her morbid thoughts to keep company. 

Suddenly she straightened up. Yes, she still had herself. That would do. For now. 

She got off the bed purposefully and switched on the light. For a moment it was blinding, but it spread its cheerfulness across the room. She smiled. From here it was a long way to happiness, but she had made a start. Perhaps she would make something delicious for herself to eat.