Thirty-nine and Thirty-two

It was already ten at night when I finally reached my apartment. I stood outside the door with my key in my hand, staring at the lock without actually opening it. I had come home late again, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to step inside.

I didn't know what was wrong with me tonight. Maybe I simply didn't want to face the silence waiting on the other side.

I took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

The apartment was completely dark. In my hurry that morning, I had forgotten to switch on even a single light, and now the darkness made the place feel even emptier than usual.

Outside, Mumbai was still wide awake. Car horns echoed along the street, people talked somewhere below, and the distant sound of a local train blended into the endless noise of the city. Everything outside was moving, rushing toward somewhere, while inside my apartment, time seemed to have stopped.

I switched on the lights, dropped my bag on the table, and loosened my tie. After changing my clothes and washing my face, I took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sank onto the sofa, finally allowing myself to relax after a long day.

I was hungry, but I didn't have the energy to cook anything. I was thinking about ordering dinner when my phone buzzed beside me.

I picked it up and saw a notification from my bank.

Happy Birthday, Akash.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before letting out a quiet laugh. Of all the people who could have remembered my birthday, my bank had been the first.

Today was my birthday.

I was thirty-nine.

And no one had wished me.

Not my colleagues. Not my younger brother or my sister. And, somehow, the one that hurt the most was Mom.

She hadn't called either.

I looked at the message again.

Happy Birthday, Akash.

Two words generated by an automated system, and somehow they made me feel lonelier than I had felt all day.

I placed my phone beside me and leaned back against the sofa. At thirty-nine, I had imagined my life would look very different.

Most people my age had someone waiting for them at home—a wife asking why they were late, children fighting over the television, or simply someone sitting across from them at the dinner table. They had a family that made them want to hurry home.

I had none of that.

I had a quiet apartment, a good salary, and enough savings to live comfortably. From the outside, my life looked perfectly fine, and for years, I had convinced myself that it was.

Maybe I had simply never had the time to think about anything else.

I was nineteen when my father died. There wasn't much time to grieve because our family needed money, and someone had to take responsibility.

So I did.

I started delivering newspapers in the mornings and tutoring children in the evenings. At night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, I studied until I could barely keep my eyes open.

It wasn't the life I had imagined for myself, but I never complained. My younger siblings needed me, and my mother depended on me, so I did whatever I could to keep the family going.

Years passed before I realized that everyone else had started building lives of their own.

My sister moved to America. My younger brother got married and eventually had a family of his own. Mom moved in with him, and slowly, one by one, they all found somewhere they belonged.

Everyone had moved forward.

Everyone except me.

Today, I was a manager at a multinational company. I had a decent salary, my own apartment, and enough savings that I no longer had to worry about where my next meal would come from.

I had achieved almost everything I had once worked so hard for.

And yet, sitting alone on my birthday, I couldn't stop wondering why the apartment felt so empty.

“I was about to put my phone down when it suddenly started ringing.”

I glanced at the screen.

Uncle Manoj.

I hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello, Uncle.”

“What happened to the money we discussed yesterday?” he asked without even saying hello.

I sighed quietly. Of course. Even on my birthday, Uncle Manoj had called about money.

“I'll transfer it tomorrow morning, Uncle. I got stuck at work today and reached home late.”

“You're always busy with work,” he said. “And you still haven't married.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

I already knew where this conversation was going.

“My son is your age, Akash. His son is already finishing high school. You're turning forty soon. How long are you planning to live like this?”

I didn't answer.

He continued, his voice carrying the familiar mixture of concern and criticism.

“You should have settled down years ago. At this age, don't expect to find the kind of girl you could have married when you were younger. If you meet a divorced woman who is willing to marry you, don't reject her just because you think you can still find someone better.”

His words stung more than I wanted to admit.

I stared at the floor, listening quietly. I could have argued with him, but I knew he wasn't trying to hurt me. In his own blunt way, he was worried that I would grow old alone.

“I'll send the money tomorrow,” I said.

“Make sure you do.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone and sat there for a while, staring at the dark screen. His words stayed in my head even after the call was over.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I had waited too long.

I locked my phone and placed it on the sofa beside me. A few seconds later, it vibrated again.

I frowned and almost ignored it. It was probably another message from work, and the last thing I wanted tonight was to think about my job.

Still, I picked it up.

This time, I stopped.

A notification from a dating app appeared on the screen.

You have a new match.

I stared at it for a moment.

A match?

I had downloaded the app only a few days ago, mostly because my friend Rohit had insisted that I needed to “at least try” meeting someone. He had spent weeks telling me that I worked too much, lived like a forty-year-old monk, and needed to give myself a chance at having a personal life. I hadn't expected anything to come from it, and honestly, I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to say to people on there.

I opened the notification.

Her name was Priyanka.

Her profile picture showed a woman smiling at the camera. I knew nothing about her, but there was something warm and effortless about that smile that made me pause.

Then I noticed her message.

Happy Birthday, Akash :)

....