“Emotional cripple: A pathetic waste of spineless dung that doesn’t have enough balls to look himself in the mirror, in the morning. Well, Urbandictionary.com puts it pretty well.” Payal read out the definition from her 3G phone. The coffee shop they were sitting in had few other customers that Saturday morning.

“And that, you think, is referring to me?” Rakesh blurted out. He put down his cappuccino cup and crossed his arms. His wife Payal’s face was expressionless.

“Rakesh, I’m just telling you how you’ve been behaving with me all these years. Emotional cripple is your name for yourself.” Payal sat up tense, slightly rocking her body.

“All these years” isn’t correct. I may have said it once, when your argument did not seem to make sense.” Beg dammit, beg, you fool, or you will lose her.

“Oh, so everything still has to be logical, right? Won’t you ever understand? We make emotional choices every day,” her breathing stopped midway.

“You’re mixing two entirely different things, Payal. See, we do things either for Love, or for money. When we act out of Love, we are totally selfless and irrational. When we act for money, we are rational, but self-centred. Do we have to discuss this right now?” Rakesh gingerly put down his spoon in the coffee saucer.

“No arguments, please, not now, not ever.” Payal placed her clenched fists on the table. Her wedding ring looked dull. “Rakesh, why did you marry me? Did you think that you loved me? Or did you actually love my money?”

Rakesh knew the previous question was an attack on a core area; it was a heat-seeking missile which would cut to the heart of the matter. Why had he married Payal and where did things go wrong?