Mistaken identity

“Leave me alone,” she snapped, juking around him on the sidewalk and hurrying away with a quick clack of heels.

“I know who has sent you. Stay away from me.” She hissed.

“Wait, you are getting it all wrong….” said Altaf.


She was lying in a heap on the sidewalk, and he was helping her get up. The strap of those fancy heels had given away.

“I can’t walk …”,  she said in a resigned tone.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get a cab.”

Two hours later, she was back home from the doctor, and Altaf had got dinner packed for her.

“I’m still not sure if it is right to accept help from you…. It’s just that there are no other options.” 

“BTW, if you allow me to speak, your Dad sent me to check on your welfare. I’m not the guy you don’t want to marry.”

Silence seemed eternal. She was checking her phone, and found messages from her Dad, which put the whole thing in perspective.

“How do I apologise?”

“Won’t you ask how is your Dad?”

“Dad … should be fine. He is on a tour.”

“He has been hospitalised after a myocardial infarction. Is not on speaking terms with your Mom, for that guy she is imposing on you. Would you like to come with me to meet him?”

“I wish I did not have this sprained ankle.”

“You can walk slow with that crepe bandage on. I’m booking a long distance cab.”

“How do I thank you?”

“Allow me to pack your stuff, and please leave those red heels behind…”

They laughed in unison.


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