My Favourite Mistake
My Favourite Mistake
Life is a heartless lover, nudging us toward unexpected crossroads when we least expect it. I used to scoff at the idea of fate, but that changed the day a single phone call altered my life’s trajectory. That one moment was enough to lead me to her—the beautiful mistake that rewrote everything I thought I knew.
Stepping off the plane, the cacophony of the bustling Kerala airport wrapped around me. My eyes scanned the sea of faces, searching for the mysterious ash-grey eyes I had only ever seen through photos. Despite the rush and the noise, a nervous energy coiled in my stomach. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was tiptoeing into dangerous territory. Deep inside, an insistent voice whispered, You shouldn’t be here. Walk away before it’s too late.
“C'mon, Charan,” I muttered to myself, dragging my suitcase toward the exit. “You're getting married in a few months. You don't need more complications—especially not with someone like Shanaya.”
Karthika’s face flashed in my mind, her quiet smile and steady gaze. She had been my anchor for years, the epitome of grace and loyalty. She knew the rhythms of my life and molded herself to fit seamlessly into them. But her presence, as comforting as it was, felt like a perfectly tailored suit that never quite allowed me to breathe freely.
And then there was Shanaya. The girl who existed on the fringes of my life until recently, her honesty and unfiltered charm pulling me into her orbit. She was the antithesis of everything safe, the vibrant splash of color against the monotony of my carefully curated world.
“Shanaya, I’m here. Where are you?” I spoke into my phone, trying to keep my tone casual.
Her voice came through, groggy yet unmistakably amused. “Such, this is not your US. This is Kerala. Don’t scream like that.”
I chuckled despite myself. “Where are you?”
“I overslept,” she confessed, without a hint of pretense. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at my flat.”
If it had been anyone else, I might have been annoyed. But Shanaya’s honesty was disarming. She never sugarcoated her flaws, never attempted to mask her imperfections with excuses. It was refreshing, a stark contrast to the polished and restrained world I inhabited.
The taxi ride to her flat was short but felt endless, filled with a thousand thoughts colliding in my mind. Shanaya’s unapologetic nature stood in contrast to Karthika’s calculated grace. Where Karthika measured every word to avoid causing a ripple, Shanaya would dive headfirst into turbulent waters without hesitation. It wasn’t just her honesty; it was the way she carried herself—her fierce independence, her quiet defiance against societal expectations.
When she finally appeared at the gate of her building, the sight of her made my breath hitch. She wore a simple kurti and jeans, her hair tied back carelessly, and yet she exuded a magnetism that made the world blur.
“You’re late,” I teased as she climbed into the taxi.
She smirked. “You’re here early. Adjust your expectations.”
Our banter was easy, a rhythm we had unknowingly perfected over countless late-night calls and stolen moments. It was the kind of connection that felt effortless, like an old song you’d forgotten but could hum perfectly.
As the day unfolded, Shanaya’s world unfurled before me. We roamed through the streets of Kochi, her animated stories painting the city in vibrant hues. She introduced me to street vendors, scolded me for my inability to handle spicy food, and laughed openly at my clumsy attempts to speak Malayalam. Every moment with her was a lesson in living—not merely existing, but embracing life in all its chaotic beauty.
We found ourselves on a quiet beach by sunset, the waves lapping gently at our feet. She sat cross-legged on the sand, her hair a wild halo around her face as the wind played with it. Her eyes, those enigmatic ash-grey pools, reflected the dying light of the sun.
“You’re quiet,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “What’s on your mind?”
I hesitated. How could I explain the storm inside me? The pull of two worlds, each with its own allure, tearing me apart.
“I’m just... taking it all in,” I finally said, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
Shanaya’s gaze lingered on me, a flicker of understanding passing between us. She didn’t push. She never did.
That night, back at the hotel, we shared a bottle of tequila on the balcony. The city’s lights stretched out before us, a tapestry of stories we’d never know. Our conversation was effortless, a flow of words and silences that needed no explanation. It was in those quiet moments, as she leaned against the railing with the wind teasing her hair, that I realized how deeply she had etched herself into my heart.
But the weight of reality was unrelenting. My impending marriage to Karthika loomed over me like a storm cloud. Karthika, who had been my constant, my safe harbor. Karthika, who had given up so much for me, who deserved my loyalty and commitment.
Shanaya’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Charan, you’re not here, are you?”
I met her gaze, struggling to find the words. “Shanaya... I—”
She held up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t. Let’s not ruin this.”
The next morning, as we stood at the airport, the air between us was heavy with unspoken words. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her posture remained defiant, unbroken. We embraced, and I felt the finality of it. The goodbye.
As I boarded the plane, I glanced back one last time. Shanaya stood there, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the bustling terminal. And in that moment, I knew I would carry her with me for the rest of my life—a beautiful mistake that had shown me a glimpse of what could have been.
Karthika was waiting for me at the other end of the journey, her smile as steady as ever. But as I took her hand, I felt the weight of the choice I had made. Life is a heartless lover, and in its cruel dance, it had given me a glimpse of something extraordinary, only to take it away.
I tried to slip back into my life with Karthika, falling into our routines, convincing myself that the past few days were just a fleeting dream. Karthika had a way of making everything seem right, her unwavering devotion an anchor in the storm. But there was a part of me that Karthika would never see, a corner of my heart where Shanaya lived.
Karthika’s kindness deserved better. She never asked about my trip, but I caught her studying me, as though she sensed the change. Once, she said softly, “You seem different, Charan. Is everything okay?”
I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
Life moved forward, and yet, Shanaya’s presence lingered in my mind. Sometimes I’d hear her laugh in the breeze or see a spark of her defiance in the way someone stood. She was a ghost I couldn’t exorcise, a bittersweet memory that colored every moment of my days.
And yet, with time, I learned to live with the ache. Shanaya was my favorite mistake, the one that would remain a quiet part of me forever. In another life, perhaps, we could have had everything. But in this one, I chose the path I could never abandon, carrying her memory as both a blessing and a burden, a reminder of the beautiful chaos that love can bring.
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