half-girlfriend-chetan-bhagat

her own joke. I wished someone had strangled Rohan at the ‘bhaiya’
stage. That bastard had seemed like trouble right from Riya’s party.
I wanted to say something sensible. I wanted to turn the tide even
somewhat in my favour. Of course, God had not given me the brains
to do so. Neither was my timing right. A girl giving you her wedding
card is basically like a giant ‘Game Over’ sign flashing in a video
game. It is not the time to say you want her back. Or that you love her
more than anything else on earth. I wondered if I should act
supportive.
I wondered if I should ask her about the preparations, or if she
needed any help. I stopped myself. I could not sink that low.
The situation reminded me of what my friends used to tell me.
I was indeed a toy. I felt like Woody from the movie Toy Story. In
the film, Woody, a neglected toy, cries alone because his owner grows
up and no longer plays with him.
‘Say something,’ she said.
You bloody bitch, my impulsive mind suggested. I controlled
myself.
Please don’t do this. I love you so much, said the emotional side of
my mind. I realized my head was a mess right now. Given my track
record, saying anything would only mean regretting it later.
‘What do I say? Surprised. Shocked. I don’t know.’
‘People normally say congratulations.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, but didn't congratulate her.
‘I hope we can move past whatever happened. We can, right?’ she
said.
I nodded.
‘You will come?’
‘Where?’
‘The wedding. I just invited you.’
I wanted to throw her over-the-top wedding invitation box-cumcard
at her.
‘Let’s see,’ I said. I patted myself mentally. I had responded with