I'm standing at a point in this book where I can either show Manik helping Nandini, or she helping herself. I'm more inclined towards the latter.

Dedicated to all the girls who don't have a Manik Malhotra or a knight in shining armour.

Dedicated to the ones who save themselves.

~~

Nandini

I had been very determined to move on in my life when I told my father that I didn't want to talk about the past.

I had been very determined to find happiness when I allowed myself to make new friends and to go on that silly friendly date with Manik.

I had also been very determined to heal myself when I had agreed to give myself completely to the therapy and to be truthful about everything to Stella.

But at this very moment, when I walked out of her clinic and into the openness, all the determination had vanished.

As I moved out, I kept glancing at the lilac sky overhead with splatters of dark blue, the sky adorning feeble stars as the evening gave way to the night, but unlike always, the sky didn't calm me or my nerves.

When I walked on the footpath back to Manik's farmhouse, I felt suffocated. I felt stuck.

While leaving Stella's clinic after the first therapy session was over, I remembered what she had told me, just now, a few minutes ago: 'You've suppressed everything you feel for years now. Talking about all of it suddenly can be overwhelming. But you need to allow yourself to feel it– the pain, the hurt, the anxiety, every feeling that is going to follow– you need to allow yourself to break, because unless you don't break in pieces, you can't piece yourself back together too.'

I had nodded and agreed, but I didn't think the suffocation to follow so soon. I wasn't sure overwhelmed was the exact word to what I was feeling right now, but I sure was feeling a lot of things, and more than anything I was feeling stuck.

I didn't quite know what I was stuck in the middle of, but it was this feeling, when I walked down the footpath and saw the speeding cars and people rushing by past me, it filled me with this emotion that only reminded me of how quick time and life moves, and yet, I felt I was rooted to the very ground. As if the world would long run away and leave me behind in the shadows of its past.

As if I'd never be able to move on from what I felt now.

And to be honest, I was quite literally stuck. I wasn't exactly a daughter or a friend or a girlfriend or anyone. I was nothing to nobody. I didn't even know who I was myself, leave alone who I would be to someone else.

And there was an easy way out here. I knew I had people who were only a call away.

Aliya.

Manik.

Cabir. Mukti.

My father.

Stella.

I knew I could call anyone of them and despite our differences, they'd all be there for me, ready to help me out from whatever I was feeling. Even my father. I didn't trust him. I wasn't sure if I even liked him. But I knew he'd be there.

I wondered if that was normal.

Can you love someone and still not like them?

I mean, could you know what a shitty personality a person has, could you know that betrayal and cheating runs in their veins, could you dislike them and their decisions and still love them enough to want them in your life?

I knew that was a toxic thing. The way I hated my father so much and still wanted him close... I knew it was toxic to be desperate for a love like that but I wasn't ashamed to accept that deep inside me, there was an eight year old girl that craved that her father had never left in the first place.

With Manik's farmhouse approaching not more than just a few hundred meters away, I found myself retracing my steps.

I found myself turning back without thinking twice and walk in the opposite direction from what I was supposed to, towards the end of the lane.

I knew I couldn't go back and be strong enough to look at all of them without breaking down. And for a fact, I knew none of them would judge me, but I don't think I wanted to cry in front of them. Partly because I wasn't strong enough to explain why I was crying. And partly because even I didn't know why I wanted to cry.

Walking away from where I was supposed to be, zoned out in my own thoughts, my eyes fell on a lady sitting on the footpath, only a few feet away from me. She looked old, but only in her late forties, wearing old clothes with a bowl in front of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was a homeless lady.

Walking close to her, I dug in the pocket of my hoodie for the little change I had on me, and placed it into her bowl.

I watched as her dull black eyes shone when the coins clattered with her metal bowl, making a soft melody, and I couldn't help but wonder why a mere count of ten dollars made her so happy. She was homeless, sure, but she didn't look the kind who was starving or didn't get any charity in a day.

"Thank you," she looked up at me, her eyes courteous.

I found myself genuinely smiling. "You're welcome."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Her eyes sparkled.

I was a little taken aback but shook my head nonetheless. "I'm from Forks."

"Ah," she clicked her tongue. "Small town youngsters, always kind. New York teenagers? All about drugs and alcohol. Always so rude."

I found myself chuckling under my breath, taking a guess by her broken English. "You're not from around here either, are you?"

"No," she replied with a smile, but tears glistened in her eyes. "I come from very small town with my daughter when she small. Now she so big, like you. Lost all money on stupid bets and gambles. I don't work. I know little English. She knows good. But she lost job two months ago. Didn't tell me. Now, no money."

I found myself sympathising with her situation more than I should, as I sat on the footpath next to her. "Where is she now?" I asked.

"Away," she replied, "Yesterday I got to know she is not well. In the hospital. And she did not tell me. Again."

"Maybe because she was too ashamed to tell you that she had lost her job after she lost all your moment on the gambles," I reasoned, "And maybe she thought you were so angry about that that you wouldn't care if she was in the hospital."

The lady looked horrified. "What type of parent wouldn't care?"

I gulped, "Lots."

"What?"

A sad smile took over my lips. "A lot of parents won't care. Unfortunately, I can name a few."

She turned to me with sad eyes. "Poor child. Who hurt your heart so much?"

I chuckled under my breath, shrugging away the conversation as I changed the topic. "When was the last time you told your daughter that you cared? Or that your love was bigger than her mistakes and someday you'd find it in yourself to forgive her?"

"Isn't that a obvious thing?" She looked confused. "Is that supposed to be told?"

"If you want to take it from a girl who's father left her when she was eight and didn't come back until she was dying and who's mother lied to her until the last breath," I reply, "Then yes, I would have very much liked them to tell me that despite everything, they cared. And that they would have liked to be forgiven someday."

A small, commiserating smile spreads over her lips.

I put my hand back into the hoodie pocket and remove everything I had in it, a few notes of twenty dollars and a hundred dollar, roughly summarising to a two hundred dollar bill, and place it in her shaking hands.

She looks at me with eyes that glistened and an emotion I couldn't quite fathom.

I smile at her. "Get your daughter out of the hospital. Tell her you care. And I know this isn't a lot, but I think it's enough to start something new again. She's lucky she has a parent that loves her so unconditionally, be sure to tell her of that."

"May God bless you, child," A tear flows from her eyes, "May God bless you."

With that, I get up and walk away, without looking back.

You'd think doing something good or talking to a stranger would make me feel a lot lighter, but I only felt heavier. I felt as if my hands were shaking and my legs would give away and I would just drop onto the ground into a puddle of tears, and I would cry until I'd find the power to tell myself that I was strong enough to get past this, but in this very moment, I was not.

I felt fragile and I hated that so much.

On some days, I felt like I could carry the weight of the world with a smile, and on some others, I felt fragile as a flower, fragile enough for a barely strong wind to plucker my petals and leave me abandoned.

Not wanting to risk crying in the middle of the street, I sat on one of the benches by the street side, and I couldn't help but notice how my feet had carried me towards the cliff where I was this afternoon with Manik.

I found myself stressing over the question: why did I want to cry?

Was it because my mother died? Or was it because I know she died a liar?

Was it because my father was back in my life, trying to win my love as if he wasn't the one to break my heart in the first place? Or was it because I wasn't being able to trust his reasons even much after I tried to?

Or was it a completely different reason altogether?

Cutting through my thoughts, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and my bestfriend's name flashed on the screen.

Taking a deep breath, I accepted the call and pressed it to my ears. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Her chirpy voice filled in.

I tried to pull on a smile for her. "How was your piano competition?"

"It was great!" She was grinning now. "Although it was just Day One, I mean, I and Oliver rocked it!"

"That's... awesome," I faked enthusiasm, trying to be happy for her. "Although I didn't know you and Oliver were performing together."

"It wasn't until last night that my teacher insisted for us to perform together," her voice was feeble. "I was doubtful but whatever.... it went well!"

"I'm happy for you," I answer.

"But enough about me," I could almost picture Aliya pouting. "I called to ask about you. How did therapy go?"

"Great," I replied, shutting my eyes and leaning my head on the back of the bench. "It went great."

"That's good," she says. "I so wanted it to go good. I really want you to be able to accept this and move on, past the tragedy. I want you to have all the fucking happiness and love in the world because you deserve so, so much more than that."

I chuckled under my breath as a brief, comfortable silence took over. "I miss you, I wish you were here," I said after a moment.

"I will be," she promises. "Very soon. One hundred percent by your birthday. And I know you don't miss me too much. Manik told me they're taking good care of you."

"Manik?" My ears were suddenly attentive and my eyes wide open.

"Yeah, I was just talking to him before calling you," she replied, "He told me how the two of you hung out for lunch and stuff."

The date.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Manik broke up?" I asked her.

"He told you," she said under her breath, but I heard it anyway. "Of course he told you. I didn't want to tell you, okay? You have enough to worry about and I didn't want to add more to your plate. Besides, our break up really doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because within a few weeks, we'll be back together again. Obviously," she said in a duh-tone. "It's always like that between the two of us. On-again. Off-again. It's the off phase now, but we'll find our way back to each other. We always do."

I found myself at loss of words.

When I didn't reply, she went on, "That is another reason why I wished I was in New York now. You know, Manik was telling me about how you both walked to the cliff? Do you know I met Manik for the first time over there? He was visiting his Dad and I was on a vacation with my family. It was the summer break of our eighth grade. That's where we both first met and became friends. He taught me to jump from that cliff. It was scary and horrifying and the water was so cold that I thought I died but when we got to the bottom, he had held my hand and told me I were okay. That was when I knew I was going to really, really like him."

I feel a hollow feeling in my chest and if it was even possible, I feel heavier.

I wanted to point out the reason. Maybe it had something to do that my bestfriend was talking about this guy that I happened to go on a date with today. And I knew there was nothing really romantic about it and I had agreed to just get him off my back and it sucked to accept to myself that all this while, when I was hoping it meant nothing to him, it meant something to me.

I should've cut the call and told her I'd call her later with the way I was feeling, but for a reason unknown, I pushed her. "Do you– Do you love him?"

I think there's something about people like me. We find a way to blame ourselves for everything that the world has done wrong to us. We find a way to punish ourselves, by overloading us with emotional pain and reminding ourselves how much we deserve this pain. There's this thing about broken people– we tend to do things that break us more.

"I don't know," she was smiling, contrary the tears that were beginning to appear in my eyes. "I'd like to believe that a part of me has loved him since the day he held my hand in the bottom of the cliff and it only intensified when he held my hand for the first time underneath a desk like teenagers do. I love him, but I don't know if I'm in love with him. Does that make sense?"

My voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. "It does."

In that moment, when the first tear drop trickled from my eyes, I realised why I wanted to cry all along.

It wasn't because of my parents. It was because in Stella's urge to help me accept my darker parts, I was also beginning to see what a pathetic person I was.

I was a pathetic person because when she asked me about the one living person in this world whom I trusted and loved, there was not one, but two faces I was beginning to see.

And I found the power in myself to only accept one, Mia.

I was too ashamed to accept the name of the second person to my own self, leave alone to Stella or the world.

Because the second name happened to be of the boy I'd barely known personally for a few months now, the boy who was helping me because he thought it is a good thing to do- to save a life, and it made me feel even more terrible to know that the boy I was so shamelessly falling for was the boy that my bestfriend was so madly in love with.

Manik Malhotra.

When I zoned in, Aliya was still speaking. "-And it means the world for me to know that the two of you are getting along together so well. You're both like, the two people in this world that I love the most. And nothing makes me happier than to see you both being such good fr-"

I cut the call. She was still speaking, and just cut the call. I shut my eyes and gasp for air when I feel the tears on my face, clutching the phone right in my hand as I get up and walk closer to the cliff.

It was late evening and I could see the stars overhead being reflected into the water below as I peeped down, and despite the beauty in front of me, all I could see was how my best friend met the guy she loves so much here for the first time years ago, and how they jumped off from here.

Without thinking twice, I remove my shoes and delicately place my phone inside it, and put them away as I stand dangerously close to the edge.

It was a fall of a few hundred meters and it was horrifying for a person like me, who was already so scared of heights. The water looked dark and cold.

I shut my eyes and turned behind, not looking at the water anymore.

I spread my hands around myself, letting the cold breeze gust through me and with eyes shut tight, without letting my head think twice of the dangers and consequences, I jump behind.

In the small moment that it lasted, all my fears vanished and was replaced by ecstasy. It felt surreal, it be surrounded by nothing but cold air. It made me feel like I had wings and the power to fly.

And just like that, the feeling ended. Cold water touched my back and behind body with an impact I hadn't calculated earlier, and engulfed me.

I could feel myself, in the water, but I didn't grasp for air. I looked around with the very little light that there was and in that second, I forgot everything I was so worried about.

I forgot how disappointed I was with the life I was living and how just a few minutes ago, I felt pathetic for pining over the boy my bestfriend loved. All of those problems felt small and minimal.

I'd held my life on such a thin line, risked drowning with nobody to save me or hear my screams for miles. But when I emerged back on the surface of the water, loudly grasping for air, a smile lingered on my lips.

Despite seeing death right in the eye, I'd never felt more alive.

Unlike Aliya, I didn't have someone to hold my hand and tell me I was okay.

And to be honest, I didn't need somebody to tell that to me. I knew I was going to be just fine.

It was like I had told Manik: In this story, the princess will find the sword, kill the dragon and save herself.

some evenings,
I'd stand under the rain,
and let it take me in,
just the way I take my pain

it drenches me,
nearly drowns me,
but I always thrive

I stand there,
not until I can take the force,
but until it pours,
because I always let the storm decide

and in the end,
I always smile,
for if the storm couldn't kill me,
then so can't my misery,
this world may be a tragedy,
but I know for a fact,
I'll survive.

                                    ~heer
//Nandini's diary

~~~

I've been trying to give my undivided attention to Stars since the past week, gearing myself up for the story that is to follow. So, this update just got lost in the back of my head for days.

I'm having thoughts about shifting this book from Wattpad to Inkitt for a couple of reasons, but I'll keep you posted.

~~

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~~~

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Love,
Heer.