[ Long Chapter. More Comments Pleaaasse? ]

[ important to note: side characters are also important characters in this story, it isn't only MaNan based although they do play the main characters. so please get comfortable with them as well :) ]

Nandini

The next morning, I woke up feeling slightly different. The last tingles of pain and weakness in me until last night had also vanished, and I woke up feeling healed, like the accident never happened.

It's going to be impossible to say that it never happened, because it's permanently scarred me, not only from the bruises of the wounds and the cuts of the surgeries plastered, but because of all that I had lost, and had left scars on my heart that I couldn't erase. Ever.

I got up on my hospital bed, and looked around, suddenly stunned to see Manik sleeping on the visitor's bed beside mine. In all these days, I was so used to waking up without anyone, that it came as a quick shock.

I got out of the hospital bed, proceeding towards the bathroom and completing my morning necessities, including packing up all my stuff and taking a shower to change into casuals.

I was going home today.

I got out, looking at myself in the long length mirror adjacent to the bathroom. I wore my black jumper and an oversized knitted brown sweater cardigan. My right ankle was still bandaged as was my left wrist.

"Hey," I heard Manik as I stumbled backwards. I hard forgotten he was sleeping out. He was changed, freshened up as I gave him a smile, "Good Morning."

"You stayed back?" I asked, sitting back on the bed.

"Yeah, did your Dad a favour. He was gonna be here but his daughter-- uh sorry," he was flushed. I nodded for him to go ahead, "The little girl wasn't well, I don't know her name. So he rushed back and I ended up staying."

"Oh," I said plainly, then pulling on a smile, "Sorry for the trouble. And thank you."

Dr. Stella entered the room. "Looks like someone's all ready to go home," she smiled.

"I'll miss you," I smile back.

"Aw seeetheart," she ruffles my hair, "I'd miss you too. It was good having someone around, not that I mean I want to see you on a hospital bed anytime soon again." She laughed and I giggled as well.

"Your Dad's completed all the forms that were needed, and he says he's waiting for you at home," Manik chirps from behind.

I nod, smiling. "Cabir and Aliya are planning to throw you a Welcome Home party," he tells me when we walk out of my hospital room thirty minutes later, after the final packing ups.

"Oh no!" I dread, "Please tell me it's not an Aliya-level party?"

Aliya-level parties were dangerous, literally. It meant she'd invite everyone she knows (which meant more than half the School mostly), there'd be booze, loud music, DJ set up, and everything a person could describe at a typical teenage party. I'm just glad she keeps drugs out of it.

"I'm hoping not. It has to be sweet and simple, something like a welcoming party," he says when we get into his car and I breathed in relief. I couldn't take a doze of loud music just after coming home.

The ride back home remains silent. I don't speak much, and Manik doesn't ask me to. There was just plain music playing on the radio and silence, not the awkward one anyone, rather the comfortable one. I was getting comfortable around Manik, and I didn't mind that. It was a long time since I allowed anyone new into my life, and I was fond of Manik. I didn't know a lot about him, but there was something in me that told me we shared a lot in common.

We reached home in the next hour, and he parked outside. I didn't have a mansion like him (I have never been to his house, it's what Aliya described his house to be), it was a simple two storey villa, more than enough for a family of three, then of two, and now of one.

While stepping in, I couldn't help as the memories came flying in when I looked at the little wind chime hanging outside the brown wooden doors of my house, as I floated into the first memory of when I put it up there.

I remember that day well, it was an odd Wednesday and I made the wind chime at School, and wanted to put it up on the top of the door. I was short, and my mom couldn't stop laughing every time I jumped to try to hang it on the very edge. I didn't let her touch it. She kept convincing me to put it a little lower but I wouldn't listen. After a few hours, I did manage to put it up there and she looked at me like I had touched the stars, the pride shining in her eyes.

"Never let go of this, Nandini. Your will to not give up is your special talent, baby. Never give up," she had whispered before kissing my cheek. I was twelve then.

Seven years later, I am still not giving up, Mom.

I was trying to fight my best. I was trying to hope. I was trying to live again.

I hope you'd be proud of me, Mom.

The doors of my house were reopened. Aliya, Cabir and my Aunt popped their heads in my living room as they shouted, "Surprise!"

The house was cleaned and redecorated. New pictures were framed on the walls above the confetti it was covered in and a banner across the wall that said, 'Welcome Home.'

"This was supposed to be a surprise?" Manik asked from behind me.

"I told you he'll fuck up!" Aliya sighed, "He told you, didn't he?"

"You never told me it was a surprise..." Manik said in defence.

"Well yeah, if it wasn't a surprise, we wouldn't have sent you to go get Nandini. It would have been one of us, and your useless ass would've been home!" Cabir scolded his best friend. I couldn't help but giggle and so did everyone else.

"Atleast this made her smile. Mission accomplished. Now stop pouncing on my boyfriend, everyone," Aliya said as she came ahead and hugged me and then went to Manik.

I sat on the couch as Aliya ranted about how much time she took to make me a cake because Cabir wouldn't stop eating the batter while Cabir kept defending himself as they told me all the struggles they went through to decorate the house and find pictures and get them framed in a few hours.

I tuned out most of the conversation. Don't take me wrong, I was grateful. Very grateful.

But this was the first time I came back home and it would take time. It would take time to get use to the loneliness, and to the fact that there'll be no one in this house to answer my questions anymore, no one I would get up to, no one to make me breakfast, or no one to turn up to when I had a shitty day. No matter how decorated the walls are, the house will always remain plain and empty, a graveyard of the memories of all people I loved, who left me alone.

I sat back for a few hours or so, tuning out what everyone was talking. My father mostly stood behind in a corner, looking at us and I was glad he didn't come ahead. I wasn't up for this.

I suddenly felt conscious when I felt someone's eyes on me except my Dad, and my eyes flickered to Manik who was staring at me intensely, analysing my every move.

"Guys," he said, without moving his eyes off me, "I think Nandini must really be tired. We should let her rest."

I nodded, going with the lie. I really needed to go back to my room.

"Yeah, you're right. And I have to go for my piano lectures too," Aliya chirped as I got up, passing a smile of gratitude to everyone and murmuring a fazed thank you. Aliya gave me a hug and left, promising to come back at night. It should have been Manik, but Cabir volunteered to drop her since he was going in the same direction, and Manik agreed on staying back and cleaning up with my Aunt although I insisted that wasn't required.

I barely walked out five steps when I saw a little girl tugging onto the wall of the room which was once my Mom's.

"Hey," I said, smiling. She must be seven or eight; brown hair, hazel eyes, fair complexion, and her cheeks tinted red due to the cold but I didn't miss how her nose and eyes were just like mine. I hadn't seen her before, but it was like I did. I didn't know her, but I did.

She was my father's second daughter. She was the reason he left me, and my mom. He chose this girl over his family. And I don't blame him. She was so beautiful, she was all I wanted to be when I was a kid. Her mother must be gorgeous.

"I made you this," she said slowly, handing me a paper card, her voice as sweet as honey. I opened the card to see a drawing, not really impressive, but very good for a seven year old and in crooked handwriting, scribbling that matched to 'get well soon, we love you.'

"What's your name?" I ask, bending on my knees. The people behind me fell silent, as if not knowing how I would react. I tucked a hair strand behind her ear and she looked up from the ground to meet my eyes.

"Emilia," she slightly murmured and my hand fell of her cheek in surprise but I covered it with a smile, not trying to rattle the little girl.

"This is beautiful Emilia, thank you," I say pointing at the card. Her eyes shone as I got back to my feet, and my eyes became stern when they met my father's.

As I walked to him, I couldn't help but ask, "Why would you name her Emilia? Something so close to your past?"

"Maybe because I never wanted to forget my past, to forget your mom or you," He whispered.

I almost fell like laughing. "Bullshit, don't act like you care because we both know you fucking don't."

"Nandini, don't use such words in front of your sister," he said, "She's still young."

"She's not my sister," I spat back, "She's your daughter, not my sister."

"She considers you as a sister," he said, his voice low so that the seven year old doesn't hear him, "I can never compel you to love her like your own. But I can request you to not say that in front of her, please. It'll break her heart."

"It'll break her heart?" I laughed this time, sarcasm lacing my voice. "Guess what Dad, I was her age when you left. You broke my heart."

As I shouted, my left hand accidentally hurt the side table on the bandage and I hissed, but not giving a chance for anyone to speak, I stormed upstairs into my room.

I could see the new red stains on the white bandage that hurt a whole level new but I don't think I cared when I entered my room again. Everything was just as I had left it, the window was half open and the canvas I was painting was still on its stand, the paints dried up on the palette.

I was painting a tree with pink flowers outside the window of my room, an odd phenomenon of a spring tree in autumn. But now that I looked outside, even the last flowers and the green leaves were wilted or shed, I couldn't figure that in the darkness outside. It was winter, which meant it was darker earlier than other times.

Another reminder of how the time has changed, and no matter what I did, nothing could reverse it.

My room door opened and closed. I didn't turn back, knowing who it was. Aliya and Cabir has left. My dad wouldn't have the guts to come talk to me anymore, and I don't think it made sense for my Aunt to come tell me anything when she was the associating with her sister's ex husband so casually just days after her death as if nothing happened.

"Nandini--" Manik started but I cut him off.

"Emily Johnson-Murthy," I said, "That was my Mom's name."

"Your mom... she was English?" He asked as he came ahead, standing beside me, looking out of the window.

"Yeah, half-English, half-Indian. Her mom was Indian, her Dad was British. I clearly got nothing from her. She was fair, and had grey eyes, and frickles and brown hair with a lovely name. I used to always fight with her, 'cause I got stuck with an Indian name and she got away with a beautiful name but she used to laugh it off," I say, answering all his questions at once.

"She sounds like a beautiful woman," he said, keeping a hand on my shoulder as if in contemplance. I nodded, drinking back the tears, "She was."

The I turned towards him, "And... my Dad chose to name his daughter after her. Like, as if taking away her happiness and giving it to another woman wasn't enough that he even took away her name to give it to his daughter. He named his daughter after his ex wife?" I said in disbelief.

"He might have his own reasons," Manik persuades stepping away from me. I scoffed. Hell with his reasons.

"You like painting?" He asked, looking at the incomplete canvas.

"Yeah," I smiled, "I wanted to be an artist."

"This is such a beautiful painting," he said, looking up at me, "Why don't you complete it?"

I walked up to him to see the painting lying half done, the brush still in the bowl with his paint dried off the edges.

Before the accident, I hated leaving paintings incomplete, which is why I left everything right there, hoping to complete it after visiting my aunt. And everything turned upside down. But the incomplete painting didn't trigger me anymore. I didn't feel like using my free time into completing it, and putting it up for showcase anymore. I didn't even feel like trying for Julliard anymore.

I wouldn't say after my mom, but after this accident, I felt like I lost my inspiration to paint, or draw, or simply do anything creative.

"I don't feel like painting this anymore, I'm going to throw it away," I say, and he stares at me bewildered.

"Seriously?" He asked, his eyes wide. I shrug, nodding.

"So if you're going to just throw it away, do you mind if I do something to it?" He asks.

I looked at him, surprised. "Sure," I nod. He sits down on my chair and takes the dried brush in his hand, dabbing it in water before taking the paint in his hand, going ahead. I try peeping in, but he gives me a look that says I-offered-you-but-you-said-no-so-this-is-mine-stay-away. I give him a whatever look, picking up a book from my book stand as I sat on my window, flipping through it.

"Uh... also, not probably the best time to tell you this, but School called up," he said and I looked at him, nodding for him to go ahead. "A few of us are lacking minimum attendance needed to give twelfth exams, so they're re opening School for a week, for students to fill in. You're lacking just two, but when they heard about the accident, they said you can be pardoned."

I give him a confused stare, "And they realise this after we give exams?"

He gives a shrug. Folks was a small town, again, and just one main high school. There were rules, but the rules were made and governed by the same school, so this tended to happen sometimes.

I thought about it for a while before replying, "I think I should go." He gives me the you're-not-serious look.

"If I'm at home, I'm bored all the time, I've got nothing to do and more my mind wanders, the more it goes back to the accident. Atleast School will keep me occupied for two days." I say.

"It's tomorrow," he gives me a look. I shrug, getting back to my book. It's just two days, duh.

"Is Aliya in too?" I ask. "Nah," he replied, "She gets extra credit for playing the piano on a national level. So...." I nod.

"But I'm there," he gives me a sheepish smile, still not lifting his head from my painting. I'm tempted to look, but I don't want to look desperate so I keep my butt where it was. "I've got three to attend. Mukti's got two; Cabir's got four. You've got company," He said.

I smile before dipping my head into the book again. "You like reading books?" He asks.

"Love," I corrected.

"I like reading books too," he says. "Is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow because I clearly remember Aliya telling me how Manik doesn't like reading books at all, he's more of the movie person.

"Yeah," He says, catching the unbelievable look I was giving him, "If you don't believe me, I'd give you my favourite book to read tomorrow. You could give me yours and I'll read that while you read mine," he challenges. I nod, shrugging and he gives me a smile.

"And... I'm done," he replied, getting up. I get up to see, when he actions me to sit down again. "After I leave," He conditions. I nod, disappointed.

"But now... I am going," he says, "I'd see you at school tomorrow, and I'll text you the details."

"Text?" I ask. It stroke me, I didn't have Manik's number or he had mine. Hell, I didn't even have a phone and it just stroke me harder than anytime. I lost my cell in the accident! There was no way I was asking Dad for another phone, so ladies and gentleman, I was phoneless until I turn eighteen (in some days) and inherit all the money and be able to buy myself anything.

He says nothing, just smirks. I squeeze my brows as he waves, and leaves.

Just as the door closes, I rush to see the painting, stunned as the view caught my sight. He had completed my painting, in his imagination, and he had painted a girl, I assume was me sitting on the pane, reading a book.

At the right bottom was his signature just below mine and a rough '&' drawn between the two. Near the palette, there was a small bag and note attached to it.

I took it in my hand, opening it.

Dear Nandini,

Sometimes, things get hard. I can't say 'it's okay', because it's not.
But I want you to know, it's okay to not be okay.

If it were in my hand, I would take away your pain in a heartbeat, but that's now how this works, so the least I can do is to hold your hand through this phase.

And the least I can do right now is wish you a fast recovery. Everyone got you something as a 'get well soon' and I didn't know what, so here it is. Doctor Stella gave this to me, and it was a complete gone case, but I used a few contacts, and I can't say it's brand new, but it's formatted enough to use for some months atleast.

Life is dark and your memories could be a chaos, but it's your choice now, now the darkness either makes you a monster, or you shine as bright as a star.

Either ways, you'd find me with you, helping you embrace the chaos. Not yours, but of the world; because no matter what you think of yourself, I'd still say you're perfect to me as you'll always be.

Your new friend,
Manik Malhotra.

I stripped the box down and revealed my rose gold iPhone, the smile on my face unmatched as I switched it on and the Apple logo showed before it came in. Formatted, brand new. A little damaged, but still brand new.

But then when I opened the phone, there was nothing which meant I lost all photos, which also meant I lost all apps, all data, all contacts, all music, everything.

Disappointed, I was just leaving my phone when I received a text.

' I know it's like a start-from-the-scratch situation, but you always have to start somewhere, so why not with me? '
7:07 PM

I opened to see no contacts, my three hundred people long contact list was gone and everything was just replaced by one contact,

Manik Malhotra.

My phone in my hand, I walked the my side stand where there was a frame of me with my parents when I was little, and I took a picture of it in my cell. I wanted to start a new start with them.

My eyes filled up looking at all three of us smile. This picture was when I came back from the hospital after illness. I wish I could have stopped the moment that day and held the moment forever, protecting those smiles, protecting my mom.

A tear drop slipped out when my phone beeped again.

I wiped off the tear, walking to the window again.

Manik Malhotra:
Stop holding onto the past, and when you look at your parents, look at them with a smile, not tears in your eyes.
7:09 PM

Manik Malhotra:
And if you want to look at anything, look at the stars.
7:09 PM

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.
7:10PM

Shutting the phone and keeping it aside as I leaned on the window, I looked at the stars and I smile spread over my lips. My life was still a mess and my heart was still a chaos, but for the first time in the past seven days, I felt like I embracing the chaos I was.

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Questions:

Long Chapter. Was it worth the wait?

1. Liked the chapter?

2. Fav part of the chap?

3. Rate it on 10?

4. Few words on Manik and Nandini?

5. Any bond/character you'd like to see more?

6. Do you like the way Manik and Nandini's relation is progressing?

7. Aliya ka kya hoga ab? ;)

8. What do you think will happen ahead?

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Vote, comment, and love. xx

Until next time then.

-Hx.