Srishti Baweja | Builder. Author. Work in Progress.

It was a usual routine life going on, both of us waking up, getting ready for office after sending off the kids to school, giving instructions to the nanny and then rushing off.

Dhruv and my office were nearby, at a 5 minutes distance only. He used to drive and that was the most relaxed part of the day when we had some time to breathe and talk before the chaos of the office took over. I loved talking to him, after all, he was my best friend. Dhruv used to get slightly irritated when I just kept talking without letting him even get a word in.

He would then turn his head towards me and say "Baby, let me also speak." My heart would just melt when he called me baby. The next 5 to 7 minutes were spent listening to him, mostly about what exciting was going on at his office and how he was so looking forward to the awesome product that they were building. He was passionate about work and even attached to it. I would sometimes get jealous and tease him if he loved the work more or me.

He would then stop the car outside my office, kiss me on my cheek and zoom off to his workplace. In the evening, he used to pick me up and that ride was mostly about me bitching about my boss. We would reach home and Zyan, our 6-year-old son, was mostly standing outside with the nanny waiting for us to come back.

The next two hours were spent giving a bath to Zyan, preparing and feeding him dinner and then putting him to sleep. Then Dhruv and I used to watch Netflix and eat.

He mostly dozed off on the sofa while watching TV. Those were hectic but beautiful days, it was as if time was just flying by. Weekends were equally busy, stocking up on groceries, meeting up with friends and prepping for the next week's food.

It was 24th July around 12 a.m and I was sleeping when Dhruv woke me up and said that his friend, Akash, had a heart attack and he was going to the hospital.

I just moved my head in agreement and turned to the other side to sleep. At around 5, I woke up with a jolt. It seemed as if someone was crying in my dream and the face of the person crying was hidden with a piece of cloth tied around his face.

It was a very disturbing dream and I was glad to realise that it was just a dream. I crawled out of the bed to check up on Zyan and also called Dhruv since he had not returned home yet.

Strangely no one picked up. It happened very rarely that Dhruv didn't pick my call. I tried to go back to sleep thinking that probably his friend was still critical and he must be running around to support the family and his friend.

At 2 a.m. again, I called him. Still no one answered. I was quite worried now.

At 6 a.m., my phone rang. I don't even know when I had dozed off. It was Dhruv's name flashing on my screen, I was so relieved to see his name flashing.

Immediately I picked up and ranted,

"Dhruv, why have you not been picking my calls? I have been trying to call you. You know I get worried. When are you coming home?"

"Hello madam, I am a police officer. I understand you are Mr. Dhruv's wife. Mr. Dhruv has met with an accident. Please come to the county hospital immediately."

My head reeled as I tried to process and comprehend what the guy on the other side had told me. It had been 10 years since we had moved to the USA leaving behind our country, India. I felt so alone, which I had never felt in all those years, probably because there was no time to even sit and feel alone. Dhruv and I were always rushing, trying to make something out of our life in this foreign land.

It was 2002 when we had first met in our third year of college in India. Dhruv was pursuing 4th year of B.Tech and I was in 3rd year. Both of us were part of the college debating society and it was strange that we spoke for the first time in March 2002, though we had seen each other often, being part of the same society.

I can't even explain how it happened and how both of us could sense growing fondness for each other after a few brief interactions. It was October 2002 and we were madly in love. It was the most beautiful time of my life and I had never felt so happy in a long time.

After finishing college, we got campus placements in the same city in multinationals. One day he proposed to me, full Bollywood style, in a plush restaurant in Mumbai.

I so wanted to say yes and become his forever, however in the back of my mind, I had been dreading this for so many years. I knew my father would not agree and till now, I had managed to keep this affair a secret from my family. Dhruv was an orphan and had very few people to call his own, even in his extended family. He had stayed with his paternal uncle after the death of his parents.

Like an idiot I just said,

"Dhruv, I do not know what my father would say and I will get back to you."

Yes, I actually said that and ran away from there.

The next few months were spent with a lot of chaos and drama at home. One day we decided enough was enough and we went to a temple and got married.

There was no looking back then. We moved to the USA and since the day we got married, I had not spoken to my family, nor did they even try to contact us.

Dhruv would bring this up now and then. He knew there was so much sorrow in the deep-set corner of my heart about having no contact with my family. He knew I missed them.

He would nudge me asking me to call them, setting aside my ego and I would just keep quiet and not utter a word.

He would often say,

"You know what the problem is — your family and you are in denial. They are not able to accept that you married me without their consent and you can't accept the fact that how can your family not be happy in your choice, how can they not accept that you chose me and you are happy about it.

Both of you are in denial and refuse to accept facts as they are. Only if you do can you heal and mend your relationship."

I just stared at my phone not knowing what to do and how to even react. I don't know how much time has passed.

Eventually, in a dazed manner, I called up a friend and my friend and I headed to the hospital with Zyan sleeping in my arms.

The worst had happened. Dhruv was no more and my life had just stopped.

Dhruv and my friends supported me the best they could, dropping home, cooking food, stopping by every day, even helping with finances. I had taken leave from the office and a few days just passed by.

My tears just wouldn't stop. They would start flowing any time of the day. I just could not fathom what had happened to me and Zyan.

I hoped that Dhruv would ring the bell and just walk in, pick up Zyan, then pat a kiss on my cheek and everything would be normal again.

I didn't contact my family, nor did they contact me. I don't even know if they had any idea of what had happened.

It was as if there was a big hole and I would just go deeper in it every day and there was just darkness all around and inside it.

I sent Zyan to stay with a friend. I could not handle his innumerable questions on when his papa is coming back and where he is, why is he not home yet.

The days were passing with me in a daze. There was a lot of anger in me for God, for my family, for Dhruv and everyone around me.

It had been two months since Dhruv had left us and I was still feeling the same raw wound.

I had started going to the office as we had to pay the bills. The day would somehow pass, but the nights were very tough. That empty feeling would fill every cell of my body and I would start howling and crying for many hours at a stretch.

I was stuck, stuck in my new reality and not able to move even an inch ahead. All I could do was move backward and reminisce about the happy times spent with Dhruv and Zyan.

Zyan would come to me, bubbling with joy as he showed his new drawing and all I could do was force a half smile.

A few of my friends suggested that I should go and see a therapist but I always declined as I knew I would not be able to utter a single word without bursting into crying.

I clearly remember, it was 25th November, six months after Dhruv's passing and I was having a usual bad day. I was tired of being sad, angry, helpless and even lifeless.

I asked myself what would Dhruv tell me to help me as he always tried to do and the answer just echoed so clearly in my ears that I almost shrieked with the loud noise.

"Stop being in denial, just accept that I am not there. Allow yourself to heal, just give some permission to yourself."

"No, I cannot do that, you have to be here, how dare you leave me," I almost shouted.

However, the answer was clear to me. I had to give myself permission to accept what had happened. All this while, I was trying to fight with reality and in turn fighting with myself, as I had no power to change the fact that Dhruv had gone.

I sat on my knees, howling and crying. I knew the journey was not going to be easy but I was also well aware now that this is what it is — acceptance is the only thing that can help me move forward.

It took time, but from that day onwards I made a lot of conscious effort to tell myself again and again that what has happened, I can't change that, the only thing I can do is accept it. I was finally giving myself permission to accept and heal.

It has been a few years now and I am in a much better place. I have, in a way, learnt to smile again, live again.

Author's note: This is a fictional story written by me about love, loss, and the painful but necessary journey toward acceptance — written simply out of a love for writing and reflecting on life.