Hi fam!

We will have scenes + therapy now. I'll try to make it as easy as possible and mention the timeline before each chapter, you can always ask me anything if you feel confused. x

Also, I feel like I've been writing too much therapy, lol. Love therapy in 'What's A Soulmate?' And life therapy in 'Back To You'. I can only hope this means something to you, and helps you in someway atleast.

Happy Reading! Long chapter. Your comments are love.

✿  ✿  ✿

[ a/n: this scene takes place after the conversation of Nandini and her father, and before the bonus therapy scene mentioned in the previous chapter. I had put that as a bonus scene, because it was just an introduction and of no real meaning :) ]

Do you believe that the fairytale kind of love exists in today's world?

Nandini

After the conversation with my Dad, the rest of the day was a blur. Soon, Cabir was honking outside my house to go to New York, and I had joined them.

Through the first some hours, I was completely preoccupied with thoughts of my conversation with Dad. I knew I'd gotten too carried away in the moment, my emotions taking a control over me, which I usually try to prevent.

I shouldn't have melted so easily.

I knew that he knew it wasn't all forgiven and forgotten, but I still regretted falling weak. I was still angry at him. One conversation cannot fill in the void created over ten years. Besides, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing in his story. Something just didn't feel... genuine?

But for the sake of this trip, I let it go.

We sang for the next few hours. More like, they sang, blasting loud music, and I laughed along with them.

For a moment, it was easy, to roll down my windows and stare at the world outside, just forgetting about all my worries, to get a taste of how freedom feels like. It felt good, to pretend to be a normal teenager on a road trip with her friends.

But the bubble blasted when medicines started making me sleepy. If anything, I was just glad to be with people who didn't judge me. Mukti insisted I sleep on her lap in the back seat, Cabir lowered the volume of the music and they all rolled their windows up to make sure the air doesn't come flying on my face. I felt guilty for a few minutes, before I realised they'd be more troubled if I don't sleep and stay awake. It took me a long time to understand they were doing this because they genuinely cared. Unlike what I liked to believe my entire life, not everyone pretends they care. Some actually do.

I woke up in New York. Yes, I slept through the last few hours like a peaceful baby, and they let me sleep. We were staying at Manik's farm house, which was a few kilometers away from his main house, and coincidentally happened to be on the same street as to where I was going to take therapy. It was a little resorted area, in the more outskirts of town.

I honestly imagined New York to be the city, full of people and vibes and brands and billboards and concert posters and all of it shown in movies, but it was so much more than that. It was quiet and beautiful in a way I couldn't explain. And that made sense too, because we were in the outskirts, where a peaceful therapy and rehab centre could be present.

Coincidentally, my Dad's house was just around the corner too, a little drive away, which made me more curious to visit than I had planned upon being.

I had my first therapy in the evening today, and although Cabir insisted I should rest until then, I knew I had slept enough on the journey.

Mukti and I were sharing a room as were Cabir and Manik, but Cabir and Mukti were too tired to think about it, and had simply passed out on one bed the moment we had entered. They promised they wanted to lie down for five minutes, but from the way they dozed off, they weren't waking up anytime soon.

"If you want to sleep, you can take the other room. I'd be fine on the couch," Manik offered.

I gave him a horrified look. "I've been sleeping though my way here. You were the one driving, and you are the one that need sleep. I'll be hanging outside, you sleep."

"What? No!" He shrugged, "I'm pretty fresh. You wanna do something else? Hang out?"

"Sure," I shrug back, a little flustered.

"How about that date?" He grinned at me.

I roll my eyes. "When are you going to forget about that?"

"Let me think...," he pretends, and then smiles sheepishly, "When you say yes."

I sigh, giving him the side eye. "One date and you'll shut up about it forever?"

He smile gets wider, "Can't promise, but I'll try."

I murmur helplessly, trying to hide the smile making its way to my face, "Okay then."

"What did you just say?" He grins, shooting up from the couch, making me flinch.

I chuckle under my breath. "I said yes."

☆

An hour later, we were sipping coffees at the café on the end of the same street.

I had changed into a grey hoodie with black leggings, and he'd changed into his sweats. We had to get back before Cabir and Mukti got up, and this was as far as we got– a few hundred meters away.

The café was small and comfortable, made of two storeys, with pastel vintage furniture. We sat upstairs, in the extended outer area, like a small balcony, to enjoy the pleasant wind. There were two small individual couches on both sides, decorated with cushions and a shawl, with a small circular table in the centre, with menu cards.

The balcony had just one table, which gave us the privacy to talk. The menu was limited, but everything we called until now was far more delicious than I've ever had at Forks.

"This is so much better than I expected," Manik says, keeping his coffee down. I sink a little more into my chair in comfort.

"I agree," I smile back licking my lips, "I was actually meaning to ask you something...."

"Go on."

"I'm sorry I've been so preoccupied with my own life lately, and I almost forgot to check on you. You told me you and Aliya broke up. How're you keeping up?" I ask.

"Nandini... uh...." he scratched the back of his head, "There's something you need to know."

"Okay?" I say, unsure.

"I and Aliya dated, yes," he says, "And I liked her, also yes. But towards the end, it got really empty. By the time of your accident, we were really just like two friends who loved flirting with each other, which is why we mutually called it off. There's no hard feelings or anything left over. Nothing's changed between the two of us, in fact. It was over months ago, we just officially ended it now."

"Oh." I reply. I didn't know what else I could say.

I was disappointed that I didn't hear anything about this from Aliya, who's been my best friend for years, but from her (ex) boyfriend instead, whom I've known for a mere one month.

I was growing distant to the people I was once so close to, and getting close to the people I thought I'll always maintain a distance from. Guess it was just another thing that my accident changed in my life.

☆

"Do you believe in love?" Manik asked randomly when we were walking on the street.

"I...." I bite my lower lip, taking a second to think the answer through before replying. I purposely ignore looking at him, and look at the trees on both sides of the road laced with pink spring flowers, making me feel like this was a portion cut out of heaven itself. "I don't know."

"No?" He clicked his tongue, rather surprised.

I shrug. "I like to believe that love exists. And some day, every person falls in love. But if you're asking about the fairytale happily-ever-after kind of love? I don't think that exists anymore."

"Still?" He persuades, "There must be some point in your life when you believed a Prince Charming would come and sweep you of your feet?"

"In some fairytales," I look at him for only a brief moment, "The princess has to defeat the monster, and save herself. There is no knight in shining armour."

"I think I appreciate that," he lifts one side of his lips into a gentle smile.

I hide back a smile myself. "What about you? Do you believe in love?"

"I do," he replies, "I think love exists. The fairytale kind, happily-ever-after, making-you-wish-for-forever kind of love? I think that exists too."

I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. "You do?"

"You see, Nandini," he turns to look at me, putting his hands deeper into the pocket of his coat, "I didn't grow up in an environment of love. I was never the kind of child who looked at his parents and thought about love. Hell, my parents were a constant reminder of how dysfunctional some couples can be in today's world. Which is why, I am completely terrified of love. The only idea of giving somebody else so much power over you? That scares me. But then, you can't be terrified of something unless you also believe in it."

I knit my eyebrows.

"Take ghosts for example," he simplified it for me, "Only if you believe that ghosts exist, you will be scared of them, right? If you think it doesn't exist in the first place, why would something that doesn't even exist scare you?"

"Makes sense," I reply.

"Similar logic for love," he replied, "I have grown up being absolutely terrified of it. And very recently, I have come to the conclusion that I hate love only because I believe it exists. And if the average love can exist, then I believe so can the fairytale kind. It's rare, for sure. But I'd like to think that not everyone is a monster; few people know the meaning of love and know what it is to love someone with all their heart, and even fewer are lucky to be loved back in the same way. That right there... a 21st century fairytale."

"I think that's a very low standard for a fairytale," I tease.

He chuckled under his breath. "Says the girl who doesn't believe in fairytales at all."

"Hey," I almost pout, "I never said that I don't believe in fairytales. But you can't possibly believe that every love story starts with 'once-upon-a-time' and ends with the prince slaying the dragon for a 'happily-ever-after', can you?"

"In today's world?" He asks rhetorically, "Not at all. And I think that's sad, you know, to think how many right people come in your life at the wrong time, and you lose them, and then that's it. No second chances. And then they spend their life loving wrong people and never get to know how it would feel like, to be in love with the right person, the one that was actually meant for you. I think life was much simpler when princes' and princesses lived in castles, met for a day, and had a happily ever after. In today's world, it is so difficult to even love the right person and be loved back by them at the same time, that it is equivalent to a bookish fairytale."

"To love someone and be loved by them," I repeat, and notice how we had reach a cliff, "A modern day fairytale."

"It's sad," he says, "but also true. A 21st century fairytale has no castles or dragons or forevers. If you love someone and they love you back, even for a small moment, that right there... a fairytale."

"A forever in a small moment," I say, as we pause by the end of the cliff. I could see the blue water crashing across the black rocks at the shore, cause a spluttering sound that oddly relaxed by nerves. The wind was cold but gentle, and as it moved across us, it made my hair fly behind, which is why I moved my hair to one shoulder.

"How much do you think is forever?" He asked me, staring down at the clear water.

"Oddly," I reply, "I don't think forever means eternity. I think forever is much lesser. Infact, it could be just a moment, a moment in which you are truly yourself. No veils. No walls. You're just... you. And you feel everything so rawly, the happiness, the sadness, the love and the heartbreak. You feel it all. And the worst part? You don't know you're living it until it's over. You know how they say you don't know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory? I think you don't know you're living a forever-kind of moment until it's gone and you wish it lasted forever, till the end of your time."

"Can you make me a promise?" He looks at me.

I look back at him, treating my eyes away from the beautiful site that had earlier captivated my eyes and somehow, I didn't mind looking at him instead.

"Can you promise me that when you have lived a forever-kind or moment, and when it's over and you know it's gone, I'll be the first person to know how you felt like... to live a forever in that very small moment?" He asks.

A small smile spreads through my lips and I don't think too much about it as the answer quickly flows out of my mouth. "I promise."

"Can I tell you a secret?" I ask him, and look away, back at the water, because I knew I wouldn't be able to say what I wanted to if I continued looking at him. I was too shy to accept what I wanted to. I didn't even know why I was saying what I was going to. I just knew I wanted to. And it felt the right thing to say, so I didn't hold myself back.

"Anything," he promises.

"You know how you told that it's sad how many people meet the right person to love at the wrong time, and lose it before it even began? No second chances?" I ask, biting my lower lip.

He nods, his eyes fixated at me, but I still didn't have the power to look back at him.

"Well, when you said that... in that moment... I found myself hoping," I pause, "If you are the right person that I'm meeting at the wrong time, and if I lose you... I hope it doesn't just end. I hope we get a second chance."

From the corner of my eyes, I could see a smile break out on his lips, one that reached his eyes.

"I hope for that in every minute that I spend with you, Nandini," he replied, his eyes still looking at me intensely, "I so hope that I am not the right person you were meant to be with at the wrong time. I don't want to be that. I'd rather be the one that gets my heart broken by you, than being the one who breaks your heart."

I finally find the power to look at him, and the way his eyes looked into mind sent a shiver down my spine, captivating me in a way I couldn't look away. "And why so?"

"Well, because if I break your heart, you'll hate me," He replies.

"And won't you hate me if I break yours?" I ask.

"I will certainly try to," he scoffed under his breath, "But if I'm being completely honest for a moment, even if you break my heart in two, I think I'd always find myself going back to you."

She didn't know when it happened
or where, really,
all she knew was right there and then
she was falling hard
and she could only pray
that she was feeling the same way

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I have actually made the therapy interactive. A small task would be given before every therapy if possible, and a set of questions will be asked (to Nandini) regarding that. It'll be lovely if you can answer those questions too. I'd try my best to help you out where I can, in any and every way possible. :)

Task Before Reading Ahead:
Take a paper and a set of colours. Draw a monster.
If you don't want to draw it, imagine a picture of a monster. Don't search on google. Imagine it yourself.

Now forget about it when you read ahead, and remember it only when needed ahead. :)

T H E R A P Y
O N E

"Your father left when you were seven?"

I nod.

"So you've been only with your mother since then?"

I nod again.

"And how did you feel about that?" Stella asked.

"About my father leaving or staying with my mom alone?" I ask back.

"Both, but first, let's talk about how those together affected you. This is all about you, Nandini, not them," she gently reminded me.

I look at her before licking my lips slightly as I push myself backwards into the chair, "You see," I sigh, "I live in a city where word travels fast. Everyone knows everything. So when I walked into school after that summer vacation that my father left, and I knew there were so many eyes at me. Full of sympathy at first. But it didn't stop there, you know? I was a brown skinned kid in a school of whites, who's father had left and mother was barely seen."

I could already feel my voice breaking. "For months, I was bullied. Every time kids of my age or older walked around me, laughing, and I couldn't help but think that they were laughing at me. Once you know, someone came up with this idea and they made a list, a list of people who hate me. I didn't even know half of them, and they hated me. Hate... it's a strong word."

"Why didn't you ever speak out?" Stella looked at me with horror stricken eyes.

"To whom?" I chuckled under my breath, "For the longest time, I didn't even know what a friend was. I didn't have any friends. Mom kept working and working and I knew it was harder on her that my father left, so if I couldn't be any help, I didn't want to be a burden on her."

"You could've told a teacher?" Stella suggested.

"But I didn't. I didn't even know that being treated like that is called bullying, because that's the way I was used to being treated for so long now. I was so used to being laughed at and left behind that I had begun thinking it was normal. It wasn't until much later that all of this began haunting me and I realised I was being bullied. And by that time, the world had moved on."

"What do you mean.... moved on?"

"Suddenly, America became all about anti-racism, and to protest against racism was the new cool. And I was a kid of colour, which meant everyone wanted to be my friend, only to talk about how they knew someone of colour and don't treat them any differently," I say.

"And how did all of that make you feel?"

"For a little while, I really enjoyed finally having friends, you know? I was that kid who lived alone almost all the time and could throw parties any day. In middle school, that was the new cool. Having no parents around became the new cool."

"What happened after the 'little while'?" She asks, quoting the words I had used.

I scoff under my breath. "After a little while, the party used to get over. I used to be at home, in the middle of the night, and it just got so fucking lonely."

I go on, "There were times it would suck. Completely. And I used to wake up in the middle of the night and feel so suffocated that I would just scream and scream and scream until I realised that no matter how loud I screamed, no one was going to hear me anyway. That was until I learnt to stay silent. Sometimes, your silence can scream louder than your voice. And I learnt this the hard way."

"And how did that make you feel?" She asked.

"Broken?" I said in an unsure whisper. "I knew that with every passing day, I was breaking and losing a part of myself that I would never get back. Some days, I just laid in bed, in the utter darkness, hoping to fall asleep before I fall apart. And sometimes, I felt so bad about that. I felt so helpless. So weak."

"Let me ask you something," Stella said, putting her hand under her chin for support as she leaned ahead on the table, "What do you think is strength?"

"I don't know," was my first response, "Are we talking emotionally or physically?"

"Emotional."

"The power to keep on fighting no matter what the world throws at you?" I say, but it comes out as a question.

"That makes you strong," she corrected, "Your strength, however, is not determined by how much you can fight before you break. It is determined by you how much you can take after you are long broken."

I stay silent.

"And Nandini, let me tell you, you've done a splendid job," a small smile breaks out on her lips. "The world broke you a long time ago. When you were only a kid. And despite being so broken, you went on. You kept on fighting. You fought the society. You fought your parents. You fought death. And now, you're fighting the aftermath of a tragedy. So let me tell you, Nandini, you were never weak. You're alive, aren't you?"

I nod.

"Now if you're alive after everything that the world has thrown at you, how can you be weak? You kept yourself alive. That makes you the strong one," she said.

"Now," she goes on, "When you look back, have you ever felt yourself wishing your father had taken you with him and not left you in Forks?"

I shake my head negatively.

"Have you ever blamed your mom for not being there for you when you needed her the most?"

I nod negatively again.

"When those kids bullied you, why did you feel bullied?" She asks me.

I stare at her in confusion.

She reframed. "When the kids bullied you, except physical attributes, what exactly did you feel they were picking up on?"

"I think it was because they looked at me like I was my father's daughter. My father was a cheater. A liar. A betrayer. He left me and never looked back. I grew up thinking only a monster would do that to their own daughter. And when those kids looked at me that way, it was as if they reminded me that his blood was in me. No matter what, I was a cheater's daughter. And I didn't want to be. I wanted to tell them I wasn't like him. I was me. I was not a cheater like him, and yet, everyday, that made me feel like I was a betrayer. A cheater. A monster. Just like him."

She stared at me for a brief moment before tearing a page from her notepad and giving it me. Then, she opened her drawer in her desk and removed a set of color crayons, passing that to me as well.

"I need you to draw something for me," she told me. I knitted my eyebrows. She went on, "I want you to draw a monster."

Confused in my head as I could be, I set the page in front of me. I pick the black crayon, and draw what comes first to my mind, the picture of a mythical monster, that I had painted a few times before as well. The task wasn't hard for me, because being a practiced artist, I knew what exactly I was doing.

In the end, it didn't look exactly like what I wanted it to, owing to the fact that I hadn't painted or drawn since a few days, but still satisfactory.

[ a/n: here is where you picture the monster like I asked you to. A set of questions will be asked to Nandini, please answer them too. If you aren't comfortable answering them publicly, you can keep answer to yourself. :) ]

I pass her the drawing and she takes a few seconds to run her eyes through it. Then, a smile spreads through her lips as she places the drawing between the two of us and looks up at me.

She looks at me, "Now I need you to tell me everything in this picture that you think makes this a monster?"

"What?"

She slightly giggled. "I need you to tell me why is this monster a monster?"

I gulp. "Well, it's dark. And creepy. And has sharp teeth. And abnormal hands. And no eyes."

"And," she asks, "Does your picture of a monster scare you?"

I nod, "Can't say I won't be scared if I get up in the middle of the night to see this standing next to my bed."

She chuckled under her breath. "When I asked you to make a monster, why did you resort to black? And darker colours?"

I open my mouth, but shut it again. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and I couldn't bring myself to form a proper answer.

"Do you think dark represents evil? Especially black?" She asks ahead.

I shrug, not really finding any voice to reply.

"You have to answer me, Nandini," she says, "Black does stand for evil. I want to know if you think that that black– the colour you have used– is what makes the monster a monster?"

I finally nod.

"Well, none of us are white. Or black. We all have a little black in us, and a little white. A little bad, and a little good. So tell me, if you think that the darkness, the black of the picture you have drawn makes it a monster, do you think that the dark parts of you make you a monster too?" She asks.

"Only sometimes," I answer, my lips slightly quivering.

She gives me comforting smile. "That's not wrong. Like I said, there's a little black in us, and there's a little white. And that black and white are always at war. But sometimes, black wins. When do you think black wins?"

I nod negatively. "I don't know."

"When you start seeing the black as a monster."

I shudder.

"The black within you is still a part of yours, but when you start seeing it as a monster, you start disowning that part. You loathe your dark side. But you forgot, hating it doesn't change anything. It will still be a part of you. And once you start hating a part of your own self, nobody can stop you from giving it full power over yourself, until you become the very person you hate," she says, and I feel goosebumps rising under the sleeve of my hoodie as I absorb her words.

"Then, lets go ahead," she says, "Your monster has abnormal teeth. Sharp. Is it a monster because it is ugly?"

I shake my head instantly. "No."

"Then?" She asks, "Is it a monster because you think that it's teeth can bite?"

I nod.

"Nandini," she says, "Your monster lives in you. It's your dark side. And it can't bite you unless you let it."

"Then how do I not?" I look at her helplessly. "How do I win?"

"You don't," she says. "You don't fight it at all. In order to defeat a monster, you have to become one. Instead, you embrace it. Accept the dark part. You make peace with it."

I keep looking at her expectantly.

"Kill it with kindness," she playfully adds. I laugh.

"Tell me, what things about yourself do you think makes you a monster?"

I gulp. "I'm my father's daughter by blood. I'm not very happy with how I look some days. Sometimes, I feel like I feel too much. And other days, I don't feel at all. That makes me distant. I push people away before they can come too close. I...." My voice fades.

"If that creature can be so ugly and you still established how it's looks doesn't make it a monster, why would the way you look come in the dark side of you?"

I reply with silence.

"Is there anything you can do to change the blood running through your veins?"

I shake my head.

"Then make peace with it," she tells me, "Accept what you are made of because it's unchangeable. You can pretend to be someone you are not but at the end of the day, you will always go back to who you really are. And when you are alone and you look into the mirror and the person who looks back at you isn't the person you've been pretending to be, you feel unsatisfied. Unhappy. And you can never love the world until you love yourself, darling."

"I want to," I tell her, "God knows how many times I've tried to love myself and failed."

"You won't be able to, not until you look at yourself in the mirror, look at yourself in the eye and not feel embarrassed or ashamed about any part of yourself. It doesn't come in one night. It sure as hell is not easy. But you can do it. I promise."

I am back, "Till when do I keep doing this?"

She smiles. "Name the one thing or person in the world that you love more than anything else."

I blink my eyes at her. She was so random. And then, I close my eyes, trying to think of the one thing I love above everything else, and the first image that flashes in my mind surprised me.

"Mia," I say, in a shock myself. And then I nod negatively. "She's my half sister."

I was supposed to hate her. I was supposed to dislike her. And I didn't even realise how fond of her I was until the only person in my mind when asked this question was her. Not my mom. Not my dad. Nobody else. Mia. Emilia. Maybe it was the fact that she reminded me so dangerously of my own mother, and she was alive, unlike almost everyone else I loved. I was never a person to be too much in love with materialistic things anyway.

A smile spread over Stella's lips, an expression I almost couldn't recognise. "I know who Emilia is."

The clock dings, indicating my time was over. I sigh, getting up.

"Nandini?" She says, "You asked me till when do you keep trying to accept yourself?"

"Yes" I nod.

"Until the day when someone asks you what is the one thing you love more than anything else in the world, and the first and only answer in your mind is yourself."

If I asked you to make a list
of everything in the world you loved
how long would it take
for you to name yourself?

✿  ✿ ✿

Long update! Happy?

I hope I didn't bore you with the therapy?

How many of y'all truthfully imagined a monster in your head like I asked y'all to?

What was your favourite part?

Rate the chapter on 10?

Would y'all like the therapy to be shorter and more to the point or is this just fine?

✿  ✿ ✿

Thank you for reading!

Love, love, and only love,
H.