You see, that's just the problem with us.

We want to see the beginning of a story and all we do is flip to the first chapter. The only trouble with that action is the simple fact that no story is singular. There are a hundred — no, a million stories interwoven with this simple, 'singular' tale and each of them begins in a different way.

When Aruna's story came to an end, another was just beginning. Now, you would want to go to the beginning of this story, wouldn't you? You would want to find out how this one is linked to that of the little, nine year old who would grow to end her life, I suppose. This one, I believe, is linked to the other through it's insecurities and the underlying pride.

It was the bright pink construction paper lying innocently on his desk that was the cause of it all. This Monday was also Valentine's day — something that the pink scented letters that were flying  around accompanied by the obligatory giggles wouldn't let him forget anytime soon but all he really wanted to do was sit atop the mattress, under the covers on his bed and blast music into his ears all day. Valentine's day wasn't his day. Not that he liked to brag, but everyone knew his year was in the bag, if only Valentine's day was crossed out of the year. 

The world is never supposed to be fair to a seventeen year old and everyone knew that. That's exactly why Jacob cast a quick look around the class when he found the pink paper lying on the front seat. It was never this simple, you see? You could never get and get and get with this world. It was a transaction that worked both ways. And since Jacob had completed his first transaction of happiness by getting in with the 'larger crowd' at school, he knew the bill was due and he would have to pay up. He was due for  disappointment and the pink love note didn't seem to be anything of the sort.

If anything, it seemed more like an answer to all his present problems. Of course, there was also that little serpent of pride curling up his mind when his eyes fell on the neatly folded note, because who didn't like to be liked? 

It was normal, he told himself, nothing big. Everyone got these kind of notes all the time. But the little untrustworthy voice at the back of head only seemed to grow louder; even managing to speak over the lull of the professors voice. It might be normal to get these notes, but a note lying on his desk right after the embarrassment he'd faced over not having a Valentine? What were the odds?

A huge pink zero. Those were the odds of this being a coincidence.

The pink paper had somehow landed up on his lap and was crudely crumpled by the turning of his fingers in synchronization with the wheels turning in head. His left thumb had just made another deep seated crease on the paper, when the bell rang; indicating the end of the lecture. 

Multiple history text books were promptly closed and heads turned towards the other to reflect upon the latest talks of the town. A slightly smug smile touched the corners of Jacob's lips as he held the note gingerly. He wouldn't read it, oh no, it was tradition to have the longest love confessions read out in the cafeteria amongst his friends and he was simply going to uphold the long drawn tradition. 

The world wasn't supposed to be fair to a seventeen year old and everyone knew that, so when life seems intent on giving and giving with no bill, you accept the gifts with a pretty little smile and a thank you waiting on your lips. And so, when Jacob was given the choice between leaving the note on the desk, thereby facing more embarrassment or picking it up and (possibly) the chance to save his reputation, he picked the latter.

He couldn't wait to see the look on the faces on their faces when he showed them the letter. It was a matter of pride, he conceded, but it wasn't like his pride was hurting anyone, was it?

That was the moment where the story of the once naive nine year old met that of the seventeen year boy and curled it's first tendril around his. The fates had already begin the unexpected intertwining the moment he picked the note up. The preceding scene at the cafeteria simply sped the process up, if did anything at all.

The thing Jacob didn't know was that his pride did hurt someone. The someone — because I know you're wondering — was me, but let's not get selfish here. 

I'll let the stories speak for themselves, because every story is interwoven with another and nothing is singular.