Certainly, there was nothing there. She knew this and knew that he knew this too. But somethings just are. What they are. Hence, they carried on, without necessarily naming it. Hoping it was a temporary dalliance or fling or whatever. It was hard to a find an appropriate nomenclature for such a thing. And neither of them had any sway on language. She was a woman of math. He was an engineer. They didn't even attempt to, because they never felt guilty, or anything that was its approximation.
His wife had given birth to their son, three years ago and was stuck in a grim post-partum. It was nobody's fault. They had had the child unknowingly and too soon - he thought. Out of pity for their unborn - they wouldn't have it any other way. His wife and he, they were high school sweet-hearts and hadn't been able to unwind themselves from the relationship through college. And they got married immediately after he landed a job.
He would tell her that he felt too young for things this serious. He often compared himself to her and found her more composed and mature. She laughed it off. She herself was nearly engaged to her boyfriend of several years. Almost, because, well, almost. To him, hers was a sealed deal. To everyone in her life, infact, she was taken. But in her heart, she never quite bought the idea herself. She felt like an imposter, in a pretend relationship, even though, as evinced by several parameters of routine commitment, they were going steady. Or had steadied after few years of ups and downs and heres and theres.
Their offices were neighboring. Not exactly neighboring, but kind of a seven-to-eight-minute walk, from each other. They had met almost randomly, one day, not memorable by any standard. Through some guy who had taken them for a joint meeting. And that was that. They started talking about work. And then bitched about work and corporate exploitation. Then about the hindrances of living in a non-metro. Then on commute. Then on family. On spouses and partners. On mothers and fathers. On children, on life, on dreams and futures.
They met few times a week. Nobody planned or predicted it. There was a dingy tea stall that sold biscuits and herbal teas and coffee, next to his building. Actually, behind it, so not entirely visible. And there was a hole-in-the-wall chinese place next to it. Some days, she would show and on some days he would show. While taking a walk, post lunch. And on some days, as destinies would have it, both would show. They would sip their teas and chat. They never exchanged numbers, never called. They met in person, and only in person.
He would mention the brand-new acts of his kid and the tiffs between his mother and his wife. She would mention how a woman was never free, first restrained by her family and later by her man's. He would pause in a cursory manner and go on to state that for people as such, freedom comes at a heavy cost. Their discussions were sometimes so deep and sometimes so frivolous. They developed, quite involuntarily, a naive friendship of sorts, that didn't have any romantic attachment, but somehow didn't feel completely platonic either. So on, the months passed by, they connected more and more. Both of them, were perhaps aware, what they were getting into but they didn't take it seriously enough to stop because at the end of the day, he was a married man with a child. She never even imagined him leaving his family. And her situation was also pretty much - steady. She was definitely headed for marriage and she wouldn't screw that up for a man who she like to share a plate of momos with and who was also married to his high school sweet heart.
But it did pinch them both, ultimately. On the weekends, when they couldn't see each other, the afternoons felt empty. On the days, when he didn't show up for tea, she loitered like an exhausted godzilla on the roads, pining and waiting. She respected his marriage and understood that from amongst them both, he was the more committed one. Nevertheless, she couldn't console herself. And after several occasions of ceasing herself from mentioning him and narrating their meetings to her boyfriend/almost fiancée, she acknowledged that she was bordering on minor sins - by maintaining this dalliance, fling or whatever. If she kept going, she would stand to lose.
So, she took a pause. Maintained distance. Drank the horrendous tea from the machine on her floor. And never thought of momos again. He perhaps understood too, these things, at the same time. And reciprocated her actions, adequately, if not more.
Several months passed and she resumed going downstairs for tea after knowing that he had changed jobs and moved away. Those were the early days of pre-monsoon and as she stood there with a warm cup in her palms, it started drizzling. She felt a sudden shiver run through her body, as if marking the end of the dalliance or fling or whatever. She wondered if he would suddenly show up from behind and surprise her. If he did, she felt as though, she would catch fire.