“I’ve wanted to get rid of her for a very long time, but I could never do it,” Sameer said. “We had been together since eighth grade. Can you believe that? We were still kids then. How could we know what love was? And let me tell you, we became a couple by accident.”

“We know,” Roshan replied on behalf of all of us. But Sameer continued anyway, talking more to himself than to us. “The boys in my class teamed up and pushed me onto her. Instead of shouting and complaining about it to the class teacher, she blushed. That’s how I knew, and the boys knew that she liked me.”

We were surprised when Sameer was the one who called all three of us to meet at our regular cafe. It was usually either me, Rakesh, or Roshan, but Sameer hadn’t made an effort to summon us all in a long time, although he always showed up whenever one of us initiated a hangout.

“Before I could comprehend it all, false rumors about us dating had already circulated around the school. By the second week, even the teachers assumed something was going on between us. I couldn’t look at her, but she was always looking at me from across the class. I tried hard not to make eye contact, but I had to know whether she was still staring at me. I didn’t know if I liked her, but I definitely knew she liked me. One time, I happened to open Facebook and send her a message. She replied instantly, as if she had been waiting for it all along. We ended up chatting for hours and, eventually, I accepted my fate and ended up ‘being with her.’” Sameer paused and took a sip of his tea. I could already see his eyes forming the next sentences to narrate his love story.

I glanced out of the window to notice it was already dark due to the cold season. Light flickered on in the foreground of our college. The cafe we were in stood directly opposite from our college, which is why we hung out here all the time during our undergraduate years. We left the college three years behind, but we could never leave this place. I looked at the chalkboard over the counter; they write something new every week. Today’s quote read:

“Time spent with friends is never wasted.”

Sameer continued, “After we passed out from school, I knew I didn’t want to be with her any longer. But I didn’t know how to tell her that. So, I started ignoring her messages and declining her calls. I tried hard to give her hints that I was no longer interested. But guess what happened?”

I knew what happened. Kunti had shown up at his house and cried to his mother. Then, he got scolded by his mother for hurting her feelings. Kunti only returned home after having dinner with Sameer’s family that night.

“I felt as if I was trapped. She knew my family now, and the worst part was, my family liked her,” Sameer said with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Sameer had called us to share an important news, which was why, even though we knew the story, we found ourselves leaning in, eager to see where this was leading and what it had to do with his news.

“I was glad when we ended up in different high schools. She tried hard to keep us together, but it didn’t work out for her,” Sameer continued, “I didn’t have to see her every day in the classroom anymore. I only had to be with her on Saturdays, and even then, only for a few hours. I started hoping it would eventually end. So, I did something I shouldn’t have.”

He paused and looked each of us in the eye, as if he were about to say something we didn’t already know. “I liked this girl in my class; Sumi. She had a flawless face and beautiful eyes, but I loved the sound of her voice the most. The way she spoke made my heart feel lighter and tingled my brain. We started hanging out together, just the two of us. Most of the time, we went to her favorite laphing stall after class. Other times, we went to a nearby temple that had a beautiful garden on the premises. Obviously, I didn’t tell her about Kunti, and I made sure Kunti didn’t find out about Sumi. However, later, I realized, there is always a chance for coincidence.”

Sameer paused to light his cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Everything changed in a single heartbeat. We were at the temple when Kunti appeared out of nowhere, her friends flanking her like a wall. The look on her face when she saw me holding another girl’s hand is something I’ll never forget. When she stood before us, I was completely frozen. Sumi didn’t have any idea who the girl standing before us was, until she got slapped hard on the cheek, had her hair grabbed, and was thrown to the ground. I tried stopping Kunti, but she kicked me so hard in the groin that to this day, I doubt whether I can father a child. After she defeated us, she started crying devastatingly right there in public, drawing everyone’s attention. Her friends tried consoling her but soon gave up; it was too embarrassing for them. It was one hell of a scene that I still remember vividly.”

“I could not sleep properly for a month. The memory of that day kept replaying in my mind. If that had happened now, someone would have filmed it and posted it online. I would have killed myself for real.” He said, “Sumi moved to afternoon classes. I could never apologize to her properly. But I had to say sorry to Kunti somehow.”

He took a long drag of smoke and slowly let it out. I waved my hand to disperse the smoke before it hit my face. “I apologized to Kunti over phone calls, over texts, I even sent emails to her. Can you believe that? I tried meeting her, but she wouldn’t agree. I didn’t have courage like hers to directly enter her house. But I stayed outside her house hoping I would catch sight of her, so I could hold my ears and pull them down until they turned bright red. I didn’t do it out of love, or even compulsion. Simply because I had hurt someone’s feelings and I could not live with it. If I had hurt you guys, I would have done the same.” He paused, and it seemed as if he had just heard his own words “Not anymore. I’m not the same person anymore,” he murmured.

“It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t delighted that it was all ending. I didn’t hope to get back with her. I just wished for forgiveness. But fate had other plans. One day, she called me and said, ‘I love you more than I can ever hate you.’ Just like that, she forgave me and the door to my escape slammed shut. We were back together.” He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

Our momos were served. Hot steam rose from the plate as the waiter placed it on our table. I looked at Sameer in the hope that he would hurry up and give us the important news. But he decided to munch on his momo before saying anything else.

I knew the rest of the story because I was part of it. I met Sameer in the first year of college, and so did Rakesh and Roshan. In the beginning, he pretended as if he was in the best relationship ever. He rarely talked about her. But during our college tour, we snuck out from the hotel to go to a bar. Six bottles down, Sameer vomited everything out. That was the first time we heard this story. He hated her. He hated the relationship. And he hated his life.

The next morning when we were alone drinking our lemon tea, sitting on the balcony and gazing at the enormous lake in front of us, I asked him, “How come she never realizes you’re not interested in her? I mean, most women are high maintenance. They pick up on things very quickly. You raise your tone a little, and they find a reason to get upset. She should have given up on you before you did.”

He stared at me and replied, “I try to be the best boyfriend in the whole world. I buy her dresses, flowers, chocolates, whatever she wants. I don’t give her a reason to be upset about anything anymore.”

I was confused, “Why?”

He exhaled sharply. “Because when she gets upset, she cries. And when she cries, she is so loud. I cannot tolerate it.”

I looked at him, not understanding a single thing about him, her, or the relationship they were in.

After we were back from the tour, we got to meet her. I have never seen any human being so uncomfortable in the presence of another. Sameer became someone else entirely. He was more reserved, less talkative, unhealthily polite, and wore a forced grin that looked painful. I prayed to God never to bestow a love like that upon me.

It took the three of us almost eight months to convince Sameer and instill enough courage in his heart to confront her and tell her exactly how he felt. He also needed four shots of vodka to do it. He was shaking, shivering, and stuttering all at once, but he did it. He spoke the words audibly to her. It took a while for it all to register with her. And once it did, she started crying. Not just crying, wailing, like a child. I had never seen an adult cry so miserably before. We all felt terrible at the sight and almost regretted our decision to make Sameer do that to her.

The next day, when we gathered in this cafe, we could all notice the change in Sameer. He seemed like the happiest person in the world. He decided he was paying for all our food. He talked endlessly, and we listened gladly. Until he received a message and his face turned pale.

We all rushed to the hospital, leaving our order unserved. Apparently, Kunti had cut her wrists and was admitted to the ICU. The doctor calmed us by stating she was out of danger but needed rest.

I still remember that day; it was raining outside. The clouds had covered the sky and it was all gloomy. I saw Sameer on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, staring far into the distance. I scrutinized his face and noticed a sense of acceptance of the life and the circumstances he was in.

It has been five years since that day. Sameer never talked about Kunti after that. Whenever we discussed family, relationships, or marriage, he smoked more than usual. And whenever we asked about Kunti, he always replied, “She’s happy, and that’s what matters. As long as she’s calm, I’m fine.”

After he finished his plate, he leaned back on the sofa and lit another cigarette. Usually, one is enough for him.

“We are going to get married in ten days.”

We all froze and stared at him. Surprised? Not at all. We knew this day was coming. We just didn’t know it was today. He took out invitation cards from his bag and handed one to each of us. I stared at my name written in beautiful handwriting. I opened the card and saw a large design highlighting the phrase: ‘Sameer weds Kunti.’

I was the first to say congratulations. But it lacked any sense of happiness, excitement, or enthusiasm. It sounded more like pity.

“I want you guys to be there,” Sameer said, filling the silence.

“Of course we will,” Rakesh replied. “How could we miss your wedding?”

“Hey,” Roshan shifted closer to Sameer. “Do you really want to do this?”

Sameer looked at us. We were all eager to know.

“Now, hear the important news,” Sameer said.

Our eyes widened. “What? Isn’t this already the important news?” I asked, surprised.

“No.” Sameer almost whispered, “I won’t be there. I’m going to run away.”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Our voices synchronized. Our expressions were the same. We were all flabbergasted.

“I cannot do this. You guys, out of everyone, know this. I tried hard to get rid of her, didn’t I? I also tried accepting being with her for the past several years. And with each passing day, I’ve become more and more miserable. I kept hoping that something would happen to break us apart. But nothing happened.” Sameer let out a heavy exhale. “I don’t know whether it is the right thing to do. But it’s the only way out for me. I don’t want your help. I just want you guys to understand. I want you to go there, attend the ceremony, and pretend you know nothing.” Sameer gulped, as if contemplating the decision one last time.

It was a lot of information for our brains to process. I don’t think any of us blinked for a full minute, and our mouths stayed slightly open for quite some time.

“Sameer, look… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Rakesh stammered. “There must be some other way. Think about your family. How will they feel?”

Roshan posed another question: “What about Kunti? What if she tries to do the same thing again?”

Sameer stared down at the table for a long time, then looked up, his expression terrifyingly calm. “Before I made this decision, I was all set to hang myself.”

I gasped, the air catching in my throat.

“But I didn’t,” he continued, his voice steady. “I want to live. I just don’t want to live with her. It’s better to embarrass and disappoint my parents than to make them see my dead body.”

The waiter came to collect our plates. While he did, we let everything sink in, trying our best to rationalize it. When the waiter was gone, Sameer spoke again.

“I wanted to bid you guys goodbye. I owe you a lot. If I have survived this far, it’s because of the three of you. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you weren’t there.”

He gave us a faint, weary smile.

Rakesh asked, “Where will you go?”

“I’ll head to India,” Sameer said, without a second thought. “I’ll leave a letter to my parents. I’ll contact them after six months.”

Finally, I had to ask the question we were all terrified of. “How long will you be gone?”

Sameer didn’t answer. He just looked at us, and in the silence, we all knew he wasn’t coming back for a long time.

“I’ll miss you guys,” was all he said.

The wedding day was a disaster. We all showed up like Sameer wanted us to, but he didn’t, just as he had planned. His brother said he had seen Sameer going to bed at 10:00 PM the night before. After that, nobody had seen him. Kunti collapsed the moment the news reached her. She was rushed to the hospital still draped in her bridal finery, her heavy ornaments and wedding makeup.

The police arrived and interrogated everyone. They expected us to give them something, a clue or a hint, as we were his closest friends. But we gave them nothing because we were his closest friends.

News of the “Runaway Groom” exploded across social media. Many found it funny; some found it bizarre. Sameer faced a storm of backlash from thousands of strangers online, but he knew it was harmless. Mere words could not hurt him. However, no one found a single clue regarding his whereabouts. He had vanished as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him whole.

Almost three months after the incident, we went to meet Kunti in a psychiatric ward. The trauma had broken something deep inside her. The doctors confirmed she was struggling with severe PTSD. Looking into her eyes, I could tell she blamed us for everything.

After the visit, the three of us decided to grab a cup of coffee at the cafe. As I sat on the sofa, I noticed the quote over the counter:

“Be madly in love with someone, but never love someone madly.”