The new catch

By Shuchi Singh Kalra,
Special to The Post 
Here I was, at the resort’s swanky restaurant waiting for Vivian, but who do I see walking in instead? Ricky with his new catch! I quickly looked around for cover, but with one functional hand, it was an exercise in futility. He spotted me across the café—a ridiculously tiny place, I tell you—and gave me a long hard look. I tried to look the other way but I couldn’t seem to sustain that for too long. I turned my gaze back at him—his eyebrows were raised and his lips were curled up in an ominous smirk.
I caught Eye Candy shifting her gaze between him and me, and then tightening her grip on his arm. She was bucktoothed—and that gave me a strange kind of joy.  For reasons unknown, Ricky couldn’t take his eyes off me. It wasn’t like he was enamored with my beauty; he probably just couldn’t believe his eyes and apparently, no one taught him the art of staring discreetly.
Truth be told, it was getting a little too awkward for me and in a fleeting glance, I noticed that Eye Candy was getting rather impatient too—she was tugging at his t-shirt. Ricky swept his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, his gaze fixed on me all the while. He then planted a lame kiss on her cheek.
I quickly pulled out my phone and secretly thanked the person (Alexander Graham Bell, was it?) who invented this intrusive and time-consuming contraption.
“Would you like to order something?” asked the waiter, as I remained submerged in the safety of my smartphone like an ostrich.
“Some rat poison, please,” I shot back, quickly realizing that it was neither the waiter’s fault nor his problem that my stupid ex was romping around town with his new girlfriend while I was still reeling from the impact of the breakup.
“I’m sorry…I’ll just have a ginger ale and a chicken croissant,” I looked at his zapped expression and faked a smile. Flipping mindlessly between applications trying to look busy and occupied, I prayed for Vivian to come soon and bail me out of this awkwardness.
Vivian. Hmm. Two could play the same game. I saw him walking up the aisle leading to the café and I made a mad dash for the door.
“Vivian!” I squealed and flung my fractured forelimbs clumsily around him, not bothering to gauge the reaction on Ricky’s face. I could teach Ricky a thing or two about sophistication and class. Vivian’s body tightened for a second but then, to my surprise, he wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. I felt the hardness of his muscles and his scent sent me into a tizzy—it’s not the cologne this time, it’s him—raw, manly, and natural. I almost forgot where I was and what I was doing, and he didn’t let go of me either.
“Excuse me,” a random woman said with a smile and that’s when I realized that we were blocking the passageway. A crimson flush swept across my face as I looked up at his perplexed, yet smiling face.
“Wow, I never imagined you’d be so happy to see me, or was it your wallet?” he asked, holding out my favorite red wallet that Baani had picked up for me from Colaba Causeway.
When the whole awkwardness of the situation eventually dawned on me, I just wished I could just shrivel up and die. What made me do something so stupid? I mean, here is my doctor, a very hot doctor, who had so well-meaningly come all the way to return my wallet, and instead of thanking him graciously and offering to treat him to a coffee, what do I do? I slobber over him like an adolescent Dalmatian.
Read more from "Done with Men" at
About the Author: 
Shuchi Singh Kalra is a writer, editor and blogger based in India. She has been writing since 2005, and has written for magazines like, Good Housekeeping, Home Review, Parent & Child, Women’s Era and many others. She also writes a monthly travel column for Investors India, and is the owner of Pixie Dust Writing Studio, an editing firm that services a global clientele.
 This story is a excerpt from Indireads. This fictional series offers a  wide wide range of romance novellas written by both men and women, for South Asian readers around the world. Read more at
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