Men are poisonous

Piya found herself wandering through a garden that seemed to have been plucked straight from her heart’s desires. The air was laden with a misty glow, caressing each leaf and flower with a delicate shimmer. She walked to her favorite plants, the vibrant hibiscus intertwined with the graceful monstera, each thriving under her careful, loving touch. Her fingertips grazed the tender leaves, tracing the veins as if they held secrets only she could decode.

The peacefulness of the garden was intoxicating, a sanctuary she had cultivated with every ounce of her soul. Yet the serenity was broken by the faint sound of dry leaves crunching underfoot. Her attention snapped to the direction of the noise, her gaze piercing through the mist. A figure emerged—a man whose face slowly became clear as the fog dissipated. Sid.

Shock surged through her like a sudden gust of wind. The serenity shattered into fragments, dragging her abruptly out of the dream. Piya woke with a start, the seatbelt pressing uncomfortably against her waist as she adjusted herself on the airplane seat. She turned her head toward the seat beside her—empty. Sid was nowhere to be found.

"That b*stard," she muttered under her breath, frustration bubbling within her, "wouldn't even let me enjoy my dreamy garden."

Straightening up, she glanced around, her mind still caught in the tailwinds of the dream. The dull hum of the airplane engines reminded her of reality. She needed to clear her head. Rising to her feet, she steadied herself and made her way toward the washroom, yearning for the cool splash of water to wash away the lingering remnants of the dream—and Sid’s unwelcome appearance in it.

The dim overhead light cast shadows against the confines of the airplane’s restroom as Piya splashed cold water on her face. It was the kind of cold that stung, that reminded her of her pale skin—a testament to her health struggles, the pesky haemoglobin deficiency that seemed to follow her like an unwelcome companion. She pressed her fingers to her face, tracing the sharp contours, feeling the hollowness in her cheeks. Her reflection stared back, an unspoken reminder of the fragility she wished to escape.

With a resigned breath, she wiped her face, folded the paper towel, and turned to open the door. But the corridor outside threw her into an entirely different kind of despair. Her steps faltered as she froze in place, her gaze fixed on the couple tangled in an embrace just a few feet away. Sid—and the air hostess she’d seen earlier, locked in a passionate kiss that burned against the sterile backdrop of the airplane cabin.

Piya’s stomach churned, a wave of nausea threatening to spill over. Romance, affection, devotion—they were concepts that never had a home in her heart. but this? She didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to even comprehend the image scorched into her brain. Yet her legs betrayed her. They remained rooted until Sid, catching his breath amidst the kiss, glanced her way. His face dropped in an instant, his expression shifting from ecstasy to guilt.

Her body jolted into motion. Turning sharply, Piya quickened her pace, determined to put as much distance between herself and the scene as possible.

Sid stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Piya as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the crowd. The distant hum of an airplane echoed in his ears, a sharp reminder of arrival.

The girl in his arms broke the silence, her voice smooth and deliberate as she said, "Call of duty." Her words seemed to pull him back to reality. He released her waist without hesitation, and she moved with an air of confidence, adjusting her dress with practiced ease. Before stepping away, she slipped a small contact card into the pocket of his jacket. Her fingers lingered for a brief second, and she looked up at him with a faint, enigmatic smile.

Sid responded with a half-smile of his own, a mix of resignation and intrigue playing on his lips. As she turned and vanished, he shifted his focus and began making his way toward his seat.

Back in her seat, piya's chest tightened, her heart hammering against her ribs. She struggled to compose herself, forcing her breathing into steady rhythm. What had she just seen? She couldn’t reconcile the image. But the stranger in her memory felt poisonous. Men are poisonous. The thought anchored her as she buckled her seatbelt, the loudspeaker crackling overhead with the captain’s landing announcement.

A presence settled beside her, pulling her attention briefly from her thoughts. She didn’t need to look; she knew it was him. Sid’s silence spoke volumes as he leaned back, mirroring her posture. Her fingers tightened on the armrest, her mind chanting an affirmation like a prayer: Soon this will end. Soon I will walk away, and I will never meet this man again.

She pressed her head into the backrest, closing her eyes as she let the vibration of the descent soothe her frayed nerves.

Sid stepped out of the airport, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure. Yash was there, as lively as ever, holding up a nameboard that read, in bold letters, "Mr Dickhead." Sid's curious expression shifted into one of exasperation, his friend's eccentric humor managing to elicit both amusement and irritation in equal measure. It didn't help that the girls nearby were giggling, clearly entertained by Yash's antics.

Sid approached him, shaking his head before grabbing Yash by the neck in a playful mock-fight. “You crazy pig!” Sid exclaimed, his tone half-scolding, half-laughing. “Who lets you out of the stable?”

The two tussled like brothers reunited after years apart, their laughter blending into the hum of the airport bustle. The girls watching giggled even harder, their amusement evident. But Sid’s joviality didn’t last. His eyes drifted to the side, where he caught sight of someone—Piya. She was stepping into a cab at a distance, her presence pulling him out of the moment entirely.

His grip on Yash loosened, and his posture stiffened, his hand moving instinctively to straighten his jacket. Memories of the awkward encounter with Piya on the flight flooded his mind, and with them came a wave of embarrassment. His expression grew solemn, lost in thought.

Yash noticed the change immediately. Following Sid’s gaze, his eyes landed on the girl disappearing into the cab. He turned back to his friend with a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah,” Yash teased, slapping Sid’s bicep lightly. “My friend hasn’t changed a bit. So, how was that girl? Did you two hit it off in the flight or what?”

Sid’s jaw tightened, his face still etched with seriousness. “She’s not like that,” he muttered, his tone firm, almost defensive.

Sid placed a hand on Yash’s shoulder, cutting off further questions. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly. “I need to rest.”

Without another word, the two climbed into Yash’s car, leaving the airport—and the lingering memory of Piya—behind.

Sid watched the streets pass by, each one carrying the weight of his memories. Nostalgia clung to him as he gazed at familiar landmarks—the temples, the library, the creekside, and every single café where he and his friends spent countless hours, laughing, dreaming, planning their futures.

“They’ve developed so much,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on his old school as they drove past.

Yash, hands steady on the wheel, scoffed. “They never considered developing when we were enrolled.”

Sid let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “What can be done? At least we made real memories, compared to today’s generation.”

Yash smirked. “We made memories, bro. You only made girlfriends.”

Sid turned to him, mock offense on his face. “As if you didn’t play around in high school! Remember that time you made us drink on the terrace while the teachers were hunting for us?”

Their laughter filled the car, echoes of their mischief washing over them like a tide of youth revisited. Soon, they pulled up in front of Sid’s home.

Stepping out, Sid inhaled deeply, taking in the sight of the house he hadn’t seen in years. He moved towards the trunk, grabbing his luggage, but his gaze was drawn across the street to the playground—its rustling trees, its familiar uneven ground.

“How many windows did we break playing cricket here?” he mused, half-smiling at the memory.

Yash chuckled. “I only remember you breaking hearts.”

Sid shot him a look. “I never break hearts.”

“Oh, you can’t say that,” Yash interrupted, stepping forward and gripping Sid’s shoulder. He turned him towards the playground and pointed to a bench tucked away in the park’s corner. “That’s exactly where we sat when you borrowed my phone to break up with Neha.”

Sid rolled his eyes, recalling the moment. “I used your phone because my mom had taken mine after the whole Neha scandal.”

“Don’t change the topic! We’re talking about you breaking hearts, not losing phones,” Yash said, feigning frustration.

Sid ignored him, moving towards the house and unlocking the door. Yash shook his head with a grin before heading towards the car, pulling out food and drinks—ready to savor the long-awaited reunion with the friend who had finally come home.

Sid stepped into his home, the familiar warmth embracing him instantly. He glanced around, pleasantly surprised by how well his mother had maintained everything. Nothing felt too unfamiliar—except the weight of time pressing against his memories.

The evening passed in carefree brotherhood . He and Yash battled it out in video games, devoured slices of pizza between laughter, and while drinking they exchanged stories about where life had taken them. It felt like old times, a brief escape into the simplicity of youth.

Yash finally left around nine, leaving Sid alone with his thoughts and exhaustion. The long flight and endless hours of traveling weighed on him, and before he knew it, he had drifted off on the couch.

The sharp chime of the doorbell cut through his half-conscious state. With a groggy groan, he forced himself up, frustration simmering in his drowsy mind. He stumbled toward the door, barely awake, and yanked it open with more force than necessary.

“Did you forget your brain here, crazy pig?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep, not bothering to look up.

But the moment his gaze lifted, his exhaustion vanished.

Standing before him, clad in pajamas, was Swati. She held a lunchbox in her hands, her expression unreadable.

Sid’s features stiffened. His breath hitched slightly as unease settled in his chest. He knew this wasn’t just a casual visit. Something was coming, something he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

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