Page 2 of Between Love & Ruin

I never imagined that a girl who loves reading romance would go on to write romance books that are not only read by one or two people but thousands of them. And not only do they read the words I write in a haze, as an escape from my mundane life, they relate to them, and that is a kind of feeling I can’t describe.

I focus all my energy on finishing the edits on the last few chapters of my book and preparing well for my meeting with the senior editor and executive at my publishing house, Maple & Sage Publishing, Aisha Kapoor.

I have always admired her work in the industry, so the fact that I get to do this with her is an honor in itself. She has added so much value in my work without even realizing it, and it made me realize how nourishing it feels to have a woman who believes in you.

It is so important, and no one gets it until they experience it.

I fall into a steady rhythm, the only sound in the room being my fingers tapping on the keyboard.

This is what happens when I fall in love. I forget the time, the situation, and the fact that I haven’t eaten my breakfast. I forget everything, and right now I am so in love with the man that I am writing about that I could cry.

He is perfect in every sense of the word. He has his flaws, after all; even on the page, he is a man and a human, on top of that. But the fact that he realizes it and becomes a better man for the woman in my story makes it perfect.

Too bad men like him don’t really exist in real life.

Or that is what I keep telling myself, stuck in a relationship that maybe has run its course.

* * *

“One last thing before we wrap up—will someone be accompanying you? I meant your partner, because then we will have to arrange something for them too, right?” Aisha asks me, and the smile from her earlier words and praising regarding my work gets wiped off my face.

Do I want him there? I wish I could say yes. Mark has not been a bad partner in the sense that he was loyal, which I know is the bare minimum, but I have never found him looking at any other woman.

But he has not been as supportive of my career as I would have wanted. When I started writing books professionally, he thought it wouldn’t last.

He ‘generously’ gave me a timeline to realize a corporate nine-to-five was safer than a volatile creative career. Only for my books to do so well that I never had to step foot in the corporate world.

But even after seeing me become such a successful author, as the people say, he has never fully come to terms with it. He still thinks that one day all of this will turn to dust, and I don’t really want that kind of energy at my first ever tour in New York.

I have romanticized that place way too much to ruin it for a man like him.

“No,” I say with a fake smile on my face that I think she can see right through. “My boyfriend hates traveling. It will be just me and my books.”

I mean, it is technically true. Whenever I have asked him to go on a trip, it is the same thing he has told me.

She smiles at me, understanding, and there’s something in her and me that feels identical. I don’t know what to call it. But in all the casual and formal conversations I have had with her, I have realized that maybe if we had met in a different setting and not through work, we would have been great friends.

We are friends, but its not the same as meeting a girlfriend in college.

“No problem. We will make sure to have fun on this tour. Boys aren’t necessary anyways.”

I chuckle, and she smiles as she lets me know that she will email me all the details.

I sigh as I hang up on the call and sink back down further in my rock-hard chair. Or maybe that’s just how my back feels since I have been sitting in this chair all day.

I put my feet down and force myself to get up as my stomach grumbles loudly. I stretch my limbs, and I push myself to go eat something.

I take out a packet of ramen out of the cabinet in my kitchen and start boiling some water.

The house feels so silent, and while I have always loved the silence, I sometimes wish that I had company. Not kids because I don’t think I could handle that. Especially with a guy like Mark who is no help. But maybe a dog would help.

I check my phone, and I can’t even fake a surprise that Mark hasn’t texted me or checked in on me.

Instead, my best friend and cousin, Laura, has texted me ten times asking me to call her. So as I pour my noodles in the boiling water and wait for them to cook, I dial her number.

After the second ring, she picks up.

“Well, hello,” she says, and I can almost sense what is coming. “Guess who called? Maybe the universe was listening to me today.”