Hi fam!

A lot of people told me that this story line reminds them of some Tamil movie. I have no idea which movie that is or if it is even dubbed in Hindi. But no, this book isn't inspired from any Tamil movie.

It is inspired by If I Stay by Gayle Forman-- (just for the first half of the book).

Happy Reading! Inline comments would be love.

I had visited hospitals only thrice in my entire life: first, when I was born; second, when I had caught a viral that wouldn't go away for weeks; and third, now.

The second time I had visited this hospital, it was my seventh birthday, and I was totally freaked. I didn't like the idea of being in a bed for my birthday and watching so many people around me die.

To cheer me up, my Dad had bought me a doll set with a small and beautiful stuff doll that he said had reminded him of me. She was very fair, unlike me and had beautiful brown hair and red dimples. For a seven year old me, she was the epitome of all beauty I had ever seen.

"But Dad, she's so beautiful. Unlike me!" I had pouted, still hugging her close to my chest when Dad said that the doll reminded him of me.

"And who said that you aren't beautiful?" He fake glared at me. My eyes opened widened, "Am I beautiful, Paapaa?"

"Ofcourse you are, sweetheart," he took me in his lap despite the doctor asking him to stay away orelse he could catch the viral too. "You are my princess. And my princess, is the most beautiful girl in the world," he tucked a hair strand behind my ear.

"But Sam, our neighbour said I was different. She said that you had to be white and tall to be beautiful and loved. She said I was brown, and Brown is not pretty," I said slowly, a pout on my face.

"What? No! That's rubbish," he said. "To be beautiful, you have to have a good heart. And my daughter has the best heart in the world. No matter how different people might call you, there will always be someone who'd love you for what you are, for the real you. And they wouldn't care about anything. He'd stick with you till the end of time and be the Prince Charming to my Princess," he explained and I smiled.

"But when I get my Prince Charming, does that mean I'd have to leave you?" I ask. He laughed, nodding negatively. "You'd never have to leave me, love. You'd be your daddy's princess till his last breath. No one can take you away from me," he explained.

"Promise?" I asked, in doubt, giving him my pinky finger and he put his finger into mine, kissing my hair, "promise."

One week later, Mom found out that he cheated on her.

One month later, he chose to live with the new lady (who was then pregnant) instead of us.

One year later, I cried on my birthday for not having a father and burnt the doll house he had got for me the previous year.

One decade later, today, I still hate him, and I hate fake promises, fake love, fake fairytales and every other thing he had permanently scarred in my heart.

I hate that I am a girl who's father broke her heart much before any boy could.

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"I think I often wondered where did the world go wrong?

Why are people always so nice to the ones who are going to die?

Maybe because we want to make their last moments on Earth happy.

But we forget that this world is a tough place to survive in and everyone dies a little everyday, and we sometimes don't know when a person is going to die; so why isn't everyone always nice, because we never know what war a person is fighting inside them, just as we never know what's actually going to happen to someone."

"Wow!" Manik smiled to my sleeping form, and shut the black journal close, "You're such a good writer, Nandini. You should actually have a book published of your own."

For the first time ever, I was thankful that I used my journal to scribble random thoughts that crossed my mind and not write about cliché things like what made me happy or who I had a crush on, because if I had and that diary would have reached Manik's hand I would have already died out of embarrassment and never wanted to wake up.

It had just been a few hours or me in Coma, and the real me roaming around like a free butterfly. Time worked differently for me in this form. I spent a whole lot of my independence in deciding what I would call my fluttering soul, but I settled on astral form. I was in my astral form as suggested by The Ancient One in Doctor Strange. I loved Marvel.

I waited and waited and waited, watched surgeries being performed on me, something detaching and plasters attaching, organs running in and out, people coming and going, some crying, others asking me to keep hope and not give up.

Aliya was the one who came in first and cried and cried watching me, as if I was dead, but in real, I was sitting on the chair opposite to hers and watching her look at my pale body.

My Aunt came in later with her son and who was also a good friend, Cabir. Cabir was also Manik's best friend. Isn't it weird how everyone in my life was somehow related to the guy I crushed on, except me?

She told me to stay strong and not give up. Cabir just kissed my forehead over the bandages. He was more of a light hearted person, and he knew exactly how to pull a smile of his broken heart. He wasn't really the best at displaying emotions but I could see through it. I could see how his lips shivered when he opened them to saying something but nothing ever came out, so he kissed me on my forehead instead.

Mukti came in too. I knew her, not very well but I knew her through Aliya. Mukti was a part of Manik's not so small friends circle, and stuck around him the most. She did nothing. She just sat for a while looking around and then left giving me a small squeeze on my hands.

The silence was creeping me out. No one really spoke anything to me, and I wondered if they were already accepting me dead. And then, a nurse told them to talk to me, because she knew I could understand everything around me, so if they really wanted me alive, they should stick it in and stop crying. It was rude, but correct.

Most people who were there outside couldn't manage to look at me without crying. So Aliya, Cabir, and Manik stayed back with me. Aliya brought me a few things from home, like my favourite blanket, my diary, and my iPod.

They took turns to stay in with me, each trying something to entertain me. It was Manik's chance now, and he chose to read my diary. He flipped out on random pages, reading me lines from my own scribbles and honestly, I loved it. I loved listening to his voice and when he voiced out what I had written, it made it even better.

"If you want me to be completely honest, I have always been terrified of love. And now that you think of it again, you'd find it terrifying too. Your body has blood, veins, rib cages and a string of organs around your heart to protect it from injury because your heart keeps you alive. And you simply pick it up and give it in the hands of the person you love, trusting them to keep it safe. But what if they burn it instead? What if they destroy every single thing in your heart and toss it away like a piece of paper, and all the while you wouldn't know a thing. One moment, you could be looking into the eyes of the person you love with love and the other moment, they could leave replacing the love in your eyes into tears. Love could be strong, but what kind of strength would allow someone to make you so weak?"

After he reads that out, he remains silent for a while, just staring at my hand that lied lifelessly on the hospital bed. For a minute, I'm afraid he'd see how negative I really was. But I wasn't being negative, I was just afraid. If my father did that to me, how could I trust anyone else to love me unconditionally?

I had a crush on Manik. I liked him because I found him attractive. But I didn't love him.

And then, a smile cracked on his face, "You know what? I'm not a fan of love either."

Did he not love Aliya?

"I mean, Aliya's my girlfriend and I really, really like her and she's very pretty too..." his voice paused, "but....", he took a deep breath, "Would I ever be able to love her?"

One part of me wanted to go ahead and punch him because hello, that's my best friend and the other part of me wanted to do a little happy dance.

"You know, I was ten when my mother died. I didn't understood emotions so nice then. I remained silent for days and my Dad never came to me, he never asked me if I was taking it well. He just left me and submerged himself in work. Without my mom, it was all so empty. I don't think I even understand what love is, I mean, I know what love is and I love my Mom, but....." his voice faded. Oh, Manik. I had a mother I loved so much and I think I had no idea what I would do without her.

"My dad became strict and drank so much. Ever since I was a kid, I was never let to express any emotions. When I was sad and I cried, he told me that only girls cried. When I was angry and I threw things, he scolded me to not be violent. When I was happy and I used to go to him, he used to be in work and just nod. And now that I learnt to now show my emotions, they push me ahead and tell me 'love'. When I can't show any other emotions, how can I love?"

If I could have cried, by now I would. Not because his story was very moving or sad, but it was heartbreaking to think how parents can do that to their own kids. I mean, why do they give born to kids if they don't want to take care of them? It's not like someone forces them to have kids. And if the choice of having kids is theirs, they just can't abandon their children and move on. Once a parent, always a parent-- or atleast until their kids are adults themselves.

"WHO CALLED YOU--" I heard Aliya's scream outside the room I was in and I get up from where I was sitting, rushing to the door, waiting for Manik to open it and slip outside before I follow him, but just as I take a step outside, I halt in shock.

The man ahead of me had worn a business suit unlike the cotton clothes I pictured all this time and had frowns and creases on his face, greyer hair on his head and looked older then my last memory. After ten years, my father stood in front of me- an older, more professional version of him. Behind him was a young girl clinging to his feet, brown hair, fair skin and hazel eyes.

"I called him here," My Aunt step ahead. "But Mom--" Cabir interrupted but was silenced by her.

"Whatever he has done in the past doesn't change the fact that he is Nandini's father, and my sister's ex husband. He deserved to know what was happening to them--" My aunt explained but Aliya cut her off.

No, he didn't.

"Really?" She stepped ahead, "Is that what you think Nandini would have wanted? She'd prefer seeing anyone when she gets up instead of the man she has hated all her life."

"I am her Dad, Aliya," my dad stepped ahead and Aliya spat venom on him with her eyes.

"You might be her father, sir. But you were never her Dad," A tear flowed off her eyes. I felt numb, unable to process but all I could think was I was proud to have Aliya. Even though she knew I would never know this, she backed me up when I needed her the most.

"You left them, sir. You were not there all the times when she won her basketball championships, when she celebrated Father's Day alone, when she cried herself at night asking why me?, you were not there for her when she was fine and with us, so what makes you think you have any right to show up when she's not?" Aliya whisper shouted.

Everyone remained silent for a long time. No one knew what to speak. Then my father just walked ahead, on the other side of the walls and I followed him. I was ashamed to say that no matter what he did, I was desperate to get a last moment with him, to know why he left me to know why he suddenly thought that it would be okay to leave his daughter alone when he knew how much I needed him.

I wanted to shout and cry for all the times and all I could do was follow him to the second corridor and stare at his hands that held a ten year old girl's and feeling so broken that I could never be her. I could never have a father and a mother both, a complete family like she did.

My father stood outside the large glass window, staring at my sleeping body. I wondered if he really even knew that was me, because how would he? He never cared to see my face in the past ten years.

"Are you her boyfriend?" My dad suddenly spoke and I, for the first time since I came here, saw Manik beside him, staring at me the same way that my Dad was. Manik nodded negatively, and didn't take any effort to explain who he was and why he was here.

"What are you thinking?" My father asked, striking a conversation. Seriously, Dad?

"I was just wondering, which man would be stupid enough to leave such an amazing daughter's hand," Manik spoke, still not taking his eyes off me.

My Dad remained silent for a long time. "How's she like?" He asked slowly.

"I don't know," Manik said slowly, "I was never her greatest friend, I barely even spoke to her. But I know her, a lot of her. I spent time in her room a few hours ago, fetching things she loved with her best friend, and I could know her from the way her room was simple, just like her. It's filled with frames only if her and her mom to show how much she doesn't miss you, but I saw the picture she had with you folded underneath her pillows. She's afraid to love, but she wants to be loved. She thinks no one notices why she hides underneath those thick novels but I do because I have been there, I have felt her thoughts-- I know what absence of a parent could do to you. Maybe she does hate you, but that's because she once loved you, she trusted that even when any man would hurt her, you wouldn't... and that's exactly what you did, sir. You broke it in a hundred pieces and it has taken your daughter a lot of years to fix them back."

I stood there rooted to the ground, a know twisting in my stomach and even when I was deprived of all my emotions, I could feel the urge to cry and shout and then hug Manik. I never wanted to be figured out so easily, and I wondered how he did even before knowing me.

"I have been a terrible father," my father says, a tear drop slipping out of his eye.

"You have," Manik simply agrees, taking a deep breath.

"I mean, I just don't understand. Why are all you father's like that? Why do you fuck the life of your kids in the name of love?" Manik whisper screamed, but didn't let my Dad answer as he stormed into my room, sitting beside the sleeping me and I quickly followed him, taking a last glance at my father.

He took a deep breath, as if calming himself before he cracked a small smile even though he believed I couldn't see him. His eyes were a little red as if he could just cry.

"I'm sorry, did I speak too much?" He asked.

No Manik, you just spoke my heart.

"I know you love him and you miss him, just like I miss my Dad. And when you wake up, no matter what anyone expects you to do, go give that old man a hug and ask him why he did that, get your closure. I know you miss him but you hide that just like you hid that photograph under your pillow because the world expects you to be mad at him," he whispered, inching close.

He delicately took my right hand in both of his as he whispered, "it's okay, you can be mad at someone and still miss them."

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Questions:

1.  Did you like the chapter?

2. Rate the chapter out of ten?

3. Fav part of the chapter?

4. Did Nandini's flashback of her father in the start make you emotional?

5. Did you like how Manik defended her in front of her dad?

6. Do you think her father deserves to be forgiven?

7. Was this update emotional?

8. Manik has a past too. :( [this is only a glimpse, most details will be revealed later]

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Love, love & love,
Heer. x