Vicky Please! (Part 3)

One more week passed away. Vicky’s desires were seething inside him; he wanted Sheetal at all costs. But a gentleman as he was, Vicky could do nothing except wait for Sheetal to respond to his boiling passions. She, however, continued with her life, focusing on her management job, keeping her career at the forefront. As for her wifey duties, nobody matched her. She cooked for him, kept the house neat and clean, was polite to his parents, never crossed the line in front of his relatives, dressed well, and smiled genuinely at his compliments. But whenever they got alone, she refrained from any physical contact with him. 

Sheetal invited relatives and friends turn by turn on dinner every weekend and came across as a near perfect host; she flaunted Vicky as a trophy-husband, and held hands with him in front of the family to showcase the warmth in their relationship. On Social Media too, Sheetal posted couple pictures with romantic captions that suit the newly weds in the public eye. But again, inside their home, in their bedroom, whenever Vicky tried to make a move, she came up with one excuse or the other to prevent herself from the touch. 

Two months went by but nothing changed. Vicky began to drink. One night, he returned home drunk and found Sheetal cooking matar paneer for him in the kitchen. The moment she saw him, Sheetal smiled in her trademark style, pursing her lips together, tilting her head on one side, and looking at Vicky with utmost sincerity. Few weeks ago, the same smile had his heart racing but today, Vicky felt raged. He went towards her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shouted, “What the fuck is the matter with you?” in her face. She closed her eyes, turned her face and tried to push him away. 

“Are you trying to molest me? You want to force yourself on me? Do it! It would be damn easy for you to rape me. Is this what it has come down to? That’s what you want, right? Go ahead, rape me!” she blurted out looking straight at him, her breathing quick, body shaking, and evident fear in her eyes. Vicky moved his hands away, put them on his face, then ran them through his hair, while turning away from Sheetal, thus, hiding his face. 

“I am sorry! I am sorry! It’s the alcohol. No, no, it’s not the alcohol, it’s me. I am sorry!” he repeatedly apologized, still covering his face and gradually walking away from her. 

“All you men are assholes! I hate your kind! I hate you. You tried to put your hands on me forcibly,” she continued shouting at him. 

The two began to sleep in different bedrooms from that night onwards. 

Vicky was highly ashamed of his act. A guy like him who easily won the favour of women around him, who was an advocate of feminism, and always respected the womankind, lost control on himself. Vicky felt the loss of his character in his own eyes. 

“Am I to be blamed? Or not?” he struggled to seek answers for two consecutive days. “But nothing justifies touching a woman without her consent,” he finally concluded and retired. 

Vicky gradually departed into a depressing zone. He stopped expecting anything from Sheetal. The pain was so huge that Vicky laughed at the thought of calling Sheetal his wife. He adopted silence; practised a fake smile for his office mates. Once, he even tried to reinstall Tinder; a few women even dropped hints at the bar but nothing could bring him out of his solace. 

It is funny how one person can fuck up our entire being, reducing our cities to shambles, minarets to dust. 

A few days later, Sheetal told Vicky that her boss is willing to send her abroad for 6 months to work on a project. He wanted to revolt but said nothing. 

She left him. 

He was heartbroken. 

He felt like a sheet of glass smashed to pieces on a wooden floor. But did Vicky have an option? 

“How about telling everything about our incomplete marriage to her parents or my own?” he wondered. 

Broad-minded as Vicky was, his manhood prevented him from complaining about such a thing to anybody. He continued to suffer silently. Time went by. 

Then one day, a week after Sheetal’s departure, as Vicky was walking in the mall, he spotted Sheetal walking hand in hand with a woman; a genuine delight could be easily seen on her face. 

“Wasn’t she abroad?” he wondered. 

His eyes narrowed. Vicky approached her, his expressions demanding answers. 

Sheetal’s eyes widened and her skin turned pale as she saw him. She was flabbergasted. 

Words betrayed Sheetal; she tried to come up with one story or the other in vain, fumbling in her speech all the while, unable to match his eyes. 

Vicky recognized the other woman; she was Sheetal’s best friend who had attended their wedding and had even dropped by at their apartment once at a dinner party. 

This woman said nothing but looked straight at Vicky; she clutched Sheetal’s hand in hers, as if lending her energy to stand straight. 

Vicky fumed. 

“I deserve a clear-cut explanation; whenever you are ready,” he managed to say with all the civility he had learned in all these years, and then walked away in the opposite direction. 

The two women saw him departing but chose to remain silent. 

A couple of days later, Vicky received a text from Sheetal, requesting to meet in person. He agreed. 

She came along with her best friend and began to justify her actions in front of him in one way or the other. 

***

“I succumbed to the family pressure.” 

“I tried to confess on several occasions but something or the other kept on preventing me from doing so.” 

“I am sorry! It’s my fault.” 

“My family knew about it but considered marriage will cure my ailment.” 

“You will never understand what all I have gone through for my choices in a country like ours.” 

“I know I have destroyed your life, but mine is no better.” 

“I tried to commit suicide once but failed.” 

“I will not demand alimony from you!” 

*** 

It was settled then. The divorce was mutual. Both Vicky and Sheetal suffered equally. He, however, manned up, cried only when alone. Vicky self-pitied in the initial period, and then abused the hell out of the world. A few days later, he calmed down. 

After one more week, Vicky was back on track, at least in his professional life. Upon wondering about his failed marriage, he consoled himself thinking that at least he was not at fault anywhere in his relationship. Nothing was wrong with his manhood. 

Sheetal being gay helped him to get over her quickly. He hoped to fully forget the entire episode one day in his life, and continued to live positively. 

A few days later, Vicky renewed his Tinder Gold membership, and was back in the business, but this time, being extra careful. 

*** 

Vicky Please! (Part 1)  

Vicky Please! (Part 2)