Days turn years when being with the right person.

Priyanka lost her count of days while staying with Krishant as days turned weeks - three weeks. The monsoon month was pleasant to experience with the dense forest at the back of the mansion. Priyanka had grown up in the same city, yet she had never seen a monsoon as intense as this before. Apparently, it was not the forest but the extra private land belonging to the Sanghavis.

They both would spend the evening watching the dark cloud looming and washing over the estate, with Krishant occasionally filling the silence with his talk about his ongoing work; other than that, seldom moans would escape Priyanka's mouth after sips of the chai, making Julian look at her amusingly.

Seemingly, he was a fine cook and a good housekeeper. He did it all by himself. He even turned out to be an insomniac, painting during the day and sometimes at night while he spent his free time entertaining his current guest. Priyanka would see him wandering the mansion in the pitch darkness during the thunderous pouring. He was so used to the house or the blackness; it was hard to tell. Three weeks passed, and Priyanka was still curious about him, and her interest in his past and present increased. He granted verifiable information about not having close relations with his kinships as he received no-callers or visitors. Priyanka assumed he was even friendless. He had lived up in the city for eighteen years before moving to California to perceive a degree in arts, yet he had no friends to call after returning, but he utterly preferred not to bug any of them, as he wanted to spend time with Priyanka, as he had said. Priyanka represented the opposite of his case: she strongly desired to avoid people of the town who would question her troubled life, but she had actually countable friends and acquittances who would gladly not only sympathize with her and would also aid her. She even avoided her childhood best friend. The only reason Krishant came back to town was for Priyanka.

He was as ignorant about the matter that they both belonged to the same town as Priyanka was after learning that she had already known about his existence since childhood. She had heard about the CM and his only son but never got a chance to meet them, nor had she ever seen the mansion this close. In any other situation, she never imagined staying at the famous residence of the late minister.

Unlike his ancestors, Krishant was negligibly interested in politics or continuing his family's legacies. He described his interest forfeited after living with a politician such as his own father - corrupted; neither did he enjoy the public attention; nor established himself capable enough to attain such duties. He heartily gave up the generational throne of the minister. Instead, he thought that the town was cursed - by greed. He had no attachment to any of his lineage possessions either, even while he made use of them. He had no attachment to his own dead mother, so the fact cherished that he had no devotion to his possessions. He was on no other creative path other than being an artist.

Paris never realized she needed to know him until he entered her life. Their previous affection or the love they both shared before the tragic accident drifted them apart - as claimed by Krishant, could be proven by their connection to the town they belong just as people usually connect from the places they come from. Priyanka believed in the reasonable likelihood.

Nevertheless, they formed the friendship Krishant enormously desired.

Priyanka lost her sleep in the quietude mansion, but she still achieved more rest than her companion. She was exhaustively restless as if it was the end of the world. No bandages were healing her sore heart, and Krishant was her only distraction. She worked certain hours a day, but her mind was glued to the words and actions of her traitor family.

Were they all just pretending all this time? Were they ever happy seeing me alive? She kept wandering.

She had all the answers in the world and the solutions, but it was too hard to commit any action that would hurt her further and maybe her family similarly. She could sue her brother, Vijay, for revenge and compensation, or she could just accept the fact that he fooled her and forgive him. She needed to move on.

She had not broken every tie with them after all, blood ties cannot break that easily, but astonishingly, Vijay was the only one who really apologized for something he did. Her mother and sister only condemned her for giving them what they deserved. They were just as stubborn as her, but her ego was fatter than theirs.

Every day would turn out the same in the end, and she would find herself faking laughs in Krishant's presence. She could even tell that Krishant would sometimes act a smile her way when she would catch him staring at her for the sake of not acknowledging her misery. And she was grateful for his small and sincere acts. But he was thoroughly learning her, adapting to her mood swings for weeks. He knew she hated being sympathized.

Impulsion and curiosity described Paris, and he absolutely managed to stimulate the environment to tighten her. He had gained her trust by now. If the sob stories could not melt the cold heart, in that case, at least it could help it sympathize. And Priyanka sympathizes with him whenever he'd mention his father. Slowly, Priyanka was intrinsically sympathizing with the past Krishant, who was too pitiful and young. She misunderstood his anecdote childhood personality for the present as any prudent person would do. He even managed to make her relate to him. She had lost her father too, after all - not under similar circumstances, but the conditions were the same: lost.

Her Father, Janarthan August, was an altruistic man with excellent carpentry skills. Being fainthearted, he nimbly gave up on his wife and children after a few disagreements, but not his family. His dearest youngest brother, Aktar, kept in touch with Janarthan's children. In one of the conversations, Aktar even confessed that Janarthan was too ashamed to return to his family anymore. Jaranthan's guilt was enough for Priyanka to forgive him, but Sarangi does not share the same opinion.

Aktar and Priyanka would occasionally exchange news and hellos for the family. But her uncle might have hidden some announcement from her, just as she had hidden her secrets.

On a casual Friday, when Priyanka was editing her script, and Krishant was out to settle the venue for his upcoming exhibition, a phone ring startled her in the tranquil room.

"Hello?" She asked the unknown caller.

After a few seconds, "Priya.....?" A soft voice murmured. Doubt filled her senses.

"Yes. Who's this?" She stretched her numb neck.

"Aktar."

"Uncle Aktar!" exclaimed Priyanka happily. "How are you? It's so nice to hear from you."

"Same here, sweetie. But I must admit I am not doing quite well." He sighs.

"What? What happened? Are you alright, Uncle?"

"It's not about me."

"Then? You're scaring me." Priyanka could tell how disheartened her dearest uncle sounded. In twenty-seven years of her life of knowing Aktar August, he had never once rang so spiritless. Something terrible must have happened to him.

"It...It's--" She heard him cry on the other end, rising panic in her every limp. The sound of something shuffling continued the call, but a few moments later, Aktar came back with little sobs escaping his mouth, "Sorry, Priyanka. But I've bad news for you."

She couldn't respond, but her panting responded on her behalf.

"I didn't have the courage to tell you this for a long time, and you'll forever hate me for this, but I understand that any apology wouldn't justify it. I have hidden something from you. But trust me, I had my reasons, and no matter what happens next, you'll be forever my prettiest niece."

"Just tell me."

"Yes, yes. Please take a seat," Priyanka was already seated, "I couldn't tell you that Janarthan had been an alcoholic for the past ten years now, and the only reason he couldn't come see you guys was that he thought you all would never accept him again. He didn't listen to anyone," Aktar sniffled, "Last night, he was discovered dead in his room by your grandmother." He sorrowfully conveyed.

Priyanka couldn't hear anymore. Her world had collapsed at the last sentence of her uncle. With all her energy suddenly drained, the lump in her throat reduced to tears that she didn't even realize she was emitting. There was no way she could overcome this.

She spends the other four hours crying while curled up on her temporary bed. She perfectly remembered her father's face and voice from fifteen years ago. There was nothing to forget. He was unforgettable.

I wouldn't be able to see you again, papa....I miss you already and terribly....Come back....

She cried more at the realization. The distance between them for years tore them apart physically, but they were always together spiritually. He was her angel.

How will I declare this to others? She contemplated for a moment. She minded no difference with her family when she typed the text to inform them about the tragedy to Vijay. Priyanka stopped trembling when she felt a warm embrace hugging her. Krishant was staring down at her with glassy eyes. He was genuinely solicitude by her trembling self that Priyanka saw no pity in his dark eyes for the first time. He was embracing every part of her, every flaw of her, even embracing her grief. Krishant was becoming another part of her.

She cried even more, leaning on him. Her heart was piercing from every side of the corner, but she was glad that someone was still there to hold her. Krishant was a true friend.

"What's wrong?" Krishant softly asks, almost like a whisper. Priyanka couldn't answer as she just cried. "Whatever it is, It'll be alright."

Priyanka instantly started shaking her head vigorously, "No. No. It wouldn't be alright." her hoarse voice saddened him. "H-He's not c-coming back," hiccup, "He's gone...."

"Who?" Krishant helps her into a sitting position, "What are you talking about?"

Priyanka realized he knew nothing about her father. "My Dad!" Krishant was taken aback by the sudden exclamation. He never realized Paris could be miserable for her father too.

"What happened to him?"

"He's....gone." the silence was too dense.

"He went away fifteen years ago, right?" Priyanka nodded, "Is it still hurting then?" She nodded again. "But you hated him, didn't you?"

"No." Priyanka promptly answered, "I never hated him."

"But he left you. He chose himself above you. H-How can you not hate him?" Krishant was bewildered. He hated his father even though he never left him. Krishant wished his father had left him instead.

With gloom-grey eyes meeting the dark-confused one, "He loved us. He was the best father to us. I forgive him for everything. We were as wrong as he was." Krishant was not wrong in his case.

He was inarticulate to speak anymore. He loosed his grip around Priyanka, her touch poisoning him.

He envied her. He hated her for not hating her father. Why was he the only one who hated his father?

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