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Day 11
Reeva was sad.Really fucking sad. She’d never gone through a breakup without Lakshmi before. Nor had she ever been bald before—with or without Lakshmi. A lot of things were objectively going wrong, and there was nothing she could do. Except cry. So she was doing that to the best of her ability. She’d sobbed ever since Nick had left, with breaks for food and naps. She’d had yet another sleepless night, only this time there hadn’t been cat nightmares; instead, she’d been plagued by thoughts alternating from the enormity of what her parents had hidden from her to what had happened with Nick. Their conversation kept replaying in her mind. Had she done the right thing? Should she have been more honest with him? Or had she been too honest? She wished Lakshmi was there to tell her.
Reeva despondently pressed the button on the coffee machine. This at-home retreat was not working out as planned. Maybe she should have just hidden out at the Travelodge. Lakshmi could have stayed with FP for longer; it wasn’t like the cat seemed to care Reeva was back. She basically ignored her unlessReeva was dumping Chicken Princess into a bowl. And the warm post-turning-her-phone-off afterglow of freedom had faded, and she was now itching to turn it back on. It wasn’t even that she was desperate to speak to anyone in particular; she just missed the sense of being connected to the outside world. She was so used to the constant possibility of communication, the fizzing hope every time her phone vibrated, and the endless scrolling on Instagram. But now she only had herself.
She’d thought about turning her phone back on—it wasn’t like anyone had set these rules for her. But Reeva couldn’t bring herself to do it twenty-four hours after she’d decided otherwise. In fact, if she was being precise, it was only... twenty-two hours. Time was moving slower than ever now that she was alone with zero plans. She sighed as she poured cold oat milk into her coffee without even bothering to use the frother. She was just experiencing withdrawal symptoms from her phone addiction; it was normal. Besides, what would she even find if she turned it on? An angry message from Lakshmi? A sad message from Nick? Hateful messages from her sisters? Or—a hundred times worse—no messages at all?
There was no way Reeva could face seeing zero notifications after (almost) an entire day of not looking at her phone. Instead, she walked back into her bedroom and climbed into bed with her coffee. She’d be safe there. And why couldn’t she treat herself to (another) lazy day in bed? She’d spent all her life working insanely hard—and for what? To end up bald and lonely? The more Reeva thought about it, the more she realized she’d never really let herself do absolutely nothing. She’d lived her life with a relentless pressure to work hard, and then an inevitable guilt that would plague her if she didn’t. It was pointless. Especially when it was all self-imposed.
It had been happening since she was atprimary school—like that time she’d stayed awake all night, crippled with anxiety after forgetting to revise for a vocab test. She’d been six! No other child she knew cared about things like that. Her sisters had partied their way through school and then university, while Reeva had taken it all so seriously. It was different now in that she at least worked hard for a job she loved, but she still said yes to extra hours when she could be having fun. Or sleeping. Why had she wasted so much time trying so hard? It wasn’t like her mum had ever noticed—“An A for your coursework, darling? Lovely! Remind me what coursework is again?”—and Lakshmi was on track to be made partner before she was. It was partly why Reeva hadn’t put herself forward for the role; she knew her best friend would beat her. And it wasn’t even because of Lee. The truth was that Lakshmi did less than Reeva, but her solid self-assurance made her more effective every time.
With a growing resolve, Reeva decided things needed to change.Sheneeded to change. It was time for her to stop trying so hard. No more trying to be the perfect employee, sister, friend, daughter, girlfriend—not that any of it had even worked. It was time for Reeva to simply be herself as she was right now: a bald, miserable mess.
—
By the evening,Reeva was starting to enjoy her retreat. Now that she’d given herself permission to let go, she was reveling in her freedom. She’d ordered enough food on Deliveroo for four on the basis that she could eat the leftovers the next day—and then she’d eaten all of it. She was still in her pajamas and hadn’t showered, she’d opted out of making her bed for the first time in years, and she’d watched trash TV instead of the “must-watch”documentary everyone was talking about. She had no idea why she’d spent so much time watching intellectual TV shows when she could have just watched half-naked people falling in love.
Her thoughts had occasionally veered back to the shitstorm that was her life, but without her phone there to keep her connected to it all, they’d ended up drifting away. And the more hours that passed by without any contact with her family, Lakshmi, or Nick, the less Reeva thought about them. The pain had already lessened. She was quite proud of herself. People always said time was a healer, but she seemed to be healing by thehour. She’d already been through anger, denial, and depression during the past few days—to be honest, she’d been doing them for the past four years, which was probably why she was speeding through this—and now she was moving on to acceptance. Reeva shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She was nailing this grief cycle. By the end of her week’s retreat, she’d be on Satya Auntie Zen levels. Nick would be a distant memory, while the drama with her family would feel like proof that she’d been on the right track before, when she’d avoided her sisters at all lengths.
The intercom buzzed.
Reeva reluctantly stood up, crumbs dropping off her pajamas. But it was worth it this time because her wigs had arrived. She’d ordered three. Two were variations of her natural style. But the third was her favorite. It was big, curly Beyoncé-esque hair that was dip-dyed from dark brown on top to luminous blond at the tips. It was the kind of hairstyle she never would have opted for—it shouted self-confidence—but the new bald Reeva was done overthinking. And she may as well enjoy this positive aspect of her alopecia: she could live out her Beyoncé fantasy.
She opened her front door and craned her head out into the corridor. “Hello-oo? I’m up here. On the fourth floor. There’s a lift.” There was silence. Reeva sighed in irritation. Why was the delivery driver taking so long? “Hello?”
The lift pinged, doors opening to reveal stacks of piled-up Gucci luggage. There was no one in there. Reeva walked over toward the lift in confusion. Who in her building was fancy enough to have that much designer luggage? And where was the delivery guy?
“Reeva! Don’t let the doors close! You need to get the suitcases out before they go all the way down again. I couldn’t find the porter, so I had to get my driver to load up the lift. You reallymusttip the porters extra.”
Reeva turned in slow horror, praying that she was hallucinating. But there, waving a large handbag to match the Gucci suitcases, dressed in a perfectly ironed cream trouser suit, with a large pair of sunglasses resting on big, blow-dried curls, was her mother.
Saraswati screamed. Loudly.
Reeva started in shock—wasn’tshemeant to be the one screaming?
“You’re dying!”Her mum ran up to Reeva and flung her arms around her. “My poor beta. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reeva struggled out of her mum’s arms. “What are you talking... Oh.” She’d taken the T-shirt off her head.
“Oh, Reeva, I can’t believe it!” wailed her mother, trying to stroke her scalp. “Why didn’t you tell me you had cancer? My poor baby!”
Reeva freed herself and took a step back. “It’s not cancer. I’m fine. I... just... shaved it off.”
Saraswati recoiled in unadulterated horror. “Onpurpose? But... why? It looks terrible!”
“Mum.” Reeva frowned. “What are youdoinghere? You can’t show up unannounced and tell me how terrible I look!”
“But, darling, you can’t surely think you look good with no hair? You don’t have the right bone structure.”
“Mum!” Reeva glared at her. “Seriously! What thefuckare you doing here?”
“You swore! You never swear. Reeva... what’s going on? Are you having a breakdown? Do I need to call the Priory?”
“Tell me what’s going on!” cried Reeva, her Zen vibes long gone. “Why are you here?! You can’t just turn up like this!”
“To see you, of course! I had a feeling you’d need me. And clearly I was right.” Her mum started rummaging in her handbag. “It’s okay, darling. Raj will fix everything. He can source amazing wigs from human hair. I’ll get him to find a girl with hair exactly like yours. Well, like yours but a bit thicker and shinier, so he can make a bespoke wig for you. I’m sure if he pays her enough, she’ll be happy to shave it off. Hair grows back, after all. Don’t look so worried! He’ll get it professionally cleaned first. You can get anything in India, remember? Where’s my phone? I’ll call him now.”
—
