Watching Liam devour his falafel "boat" - as he calls it - makes me lose any inkling of appetite I might have once had. The buzz of the fluorescent lights above combines with Liam's chomping, creating a symphony of uncomfortable sounds.

He's brought us to a hole-in-the-wall not too far from the office. We sit in a secluded corner of the quiet shop near a display of baklava. The drive here was quiet - Liam concentrating on weaving through the lanes at every possible opportunity and me trying my best not to scream and cause him to lose his eerily attentive precision- but now, as he chows down on an assortment of fillings stuffed into pita, Liam rants unobstructed.

"And you moved fast. I mean, I had no time to get my car if I wanted to catch up with you, so now my poor car's sitting all alone and abandoned in the parking lot."

I nod along, not really listening; I couldn't repeat anything Liam's said in the past 20 minutes if my life depended on it. I haven't even been able to look up at him ever since I caught sight of what half-chewed lettuce looks like in his mouth. After that, I simply turned my attention to the mess of tomatoes that he's been picking out of his sandwich and adorning the edge of his plate with.

"Hey, Diamond," Liam tugs at my wrist - thankfully not with the hand smeared with hummus, "Could you drop me off at work?"

My head jerks up. "What?"

"I need a ride back. To work."

I shrug; maybe it'll get him to stop talking. "Yeah, sure."

"Let's go then," Liam says, picking up his trash with one hand and holding out the other to me.

Not that I'd ever take his hand, but this time is especially unique because: "How... Didn't that hand just have hummus slathered all over it?" I look up at him amazed and bewildered; there's not a single trace of any food anywhere on his person, actually, now that I'm looking.

"Always have to be ready to shake a hand, right?" he says bitterly like it's rehearsed. "Important people everywhere. Come on, let's go."

I blink, confused at the change in his demeanor. "Right." Pushing his hand out of my face, I stand and pull my keys out. I'm driving this time.

***

Liam doesn't let me park beside his car when I drive up to it - something about "his baby needing her personal space."

I tell him to get out of my car.

Liam gets out but lingers, drumming his fingers along the edge of the door.

Is he waiting for something?

Oh right.

"Hey," my voice is quiet, but I know he hears me because his head perks up. "Thank you, Liam, for... well, you know." There. He knows what I'm talking about. I think. That should do it, right?

The look on Liam's face tells me that that's not what he wanted to hear.

"No, you're good." He sighs and leans in like he's telling me a secret, "I'm not... you know... like, what you said- that's not... I'm not..." Red spreads up Liam's neck as he trails off, and he frustratedly runs a hand through his hair. "Well, you know." Then, with the edge of his ears tinged pink, he shuts the car door and turns away, leaving me staring at his back more confused than I've been all day.

I know? What do I know?

***

The whole way back to the hotel - granted it's a short drive - Liam's words circle my mind, but I'm no closer to understanding what he was trying to tell me.

As I park in the underground parking, it occurs to me that perhaps Liam was trying to convince me that he's actually not a messy eater - but the thought makes me laugh because there's no way I'll ever be able to erase the image of him eating. Unfortunately.

My good humor is short-lived though because the moment I look in the backseat, I realize that I don't know what I'm going to do with my stuff. I don't have much left, but even these three boxes are filled with miscellaneous things from around the house.

They're... they're things that belong in a house - a home - not a hotel room.

Do I have a home anymore?

The hotel certainly isn't a home - I only came here as an escape, to hide away.

There's always Mumma and Papa's house; that'll forever be home, but it's also not.

I have no place of my own. No home of my own.

The passenger door closes with a slam and I walk away, my heart heavy; I don't bother moving the boxes to the trunk - who'd want a kadai and random knick-knacks, anyway? [a type of Indian pot in which one can deep-fry foods]

***

The first thing I do when I get in my room is faceplant on the bed.

I want to bury myself under as many blankets as I can. Hopefully the physical weight will ease the weight of my thoughts.

I'm finally in a somewhat comfortable position - blankets and pillows stacked up on my chest making it hard to breathe - slight suffocation is healthy, right? - when my phone rings, startling me into an upright position.

Who would call me now?

I find my phone at the foot of the bed, placed precariously between two pillows. The name flashing on the screen makes me gulp. "Mumma?"

"What's going on, Diamond? Mona called but I wanted to hear it from you."

Dread rises inside me, only amplified by Mumma's clerical tone. Of course. Of course, Mona aunty would call Mumma.

My mouth goes dry and I struggle to breathe for a moment. I can't find a feasible lie. I press my lips together and blink rapidly, looking away from the phone as though it's actually Mumma and I'm avoiding the disappointed look she gets on her face.

My face gets hot and my nose is tingly, but even filled with this unexplainable shame, I'm tired of lying.

"I had the house all packed up." My voice is rough and breaks at the end. I clear my throat before continuing, "Me and... Tom and I are done. We're going our separate ways and I don't need a house that big for just myself. It's so far from work too." And I can't go back there without breaking down and becoming a complete mess. I can't go back without hearing what he did in our room, seeing what he did in our bed, our home.

"Did something happen?"

Of course something's happened; Mumma knows that already. The asking is just a formality, a way of asking me what happened without it feeling like it's being pried out of me, but something in her voice tells me she already has an idea of what's happened.

"He... we... I- I found..." I swallow hard and try again. "We're done." All the thoughts swirling in my head can't be summed up in words. Maybe it's better this way.

"Kyun?" [why] Mumma's voice is softer now, more personal.

Why? Why? Why?

"I wasn't the one for him." I choke back a sob. "He was... with someone else. He didn't want me."

He didn't want me.

"Koi log aise hote hain. It's okay, Diamond. Jo hone tha, ho gaya," Mumma preaches, not skipping a beat. She predicted it - of course she did. [some people are like that] [what was going to happen, happened] "No use in crying over things we can't change. Everything happens for a reason, we'll figure something out."

And suddenly, I'm a little girl again, letting Mumma braid my hair before school in the mornings as she tells me that I can't change the world, only myself, that my happiness relies on only myself.

The mindset served me well. I remember being able to carry myself like that, unbothered if I was alone or opposed. I had myself, after all.

That was so long ago. I don't remember how to live like that. And I'm definitely not the same person.

I'm weak and hollow; a shell of who I used to be. Or maybe... was I never the person I thought I was?

This call has taken a turn - what should be comforting feels anything but. "Hey, Ma? I have some things to finish, I need to-"

"Mahi, kise baat kar rahe hai?" [who are you talking to]

The interruption makes me start. Before I can tell Mumma that I'm not up for talking anymore, I hear the phone changing hands, and then Papa's voice sounds again, louder this time. "How are you, baacha?"

Just his voice is enough to tip the balance, and all the feelings I'd pushed away come full force. My hands shake and my voice wobbles despite the effort I put in trying to steady it, "I'm okay."

I just miss you. I've messed up so much and I don't know what I'm doing and I feel so alone and I miss you.

"Kya hua? Mumma's not telling me anything." [what happened]

My face falls. For as calm and collected Mumma was when I told her, Papa will be as disappointed; he was as trusting and accepting of Tom as Mumma was suspicious. Telling the truth would only serve to break a second heart.

Taking my silence as an answer, Papa guesses, "Was it Richard?"

Richard. Oh, gosh.

My head drops toward my chest. I'd forgotten. Richard. "Oh, Papa." There's no point in trying to keep my voice steady anymore. "I messed up Papa. I- Richard- He cornered me and I lost my cool. He called the board together. They all saw it. I snapped at them. I-"

Papa shushes me. "That's okay. You're okay, baacha. They're a difficult bunch to work with - we know that." He goes quiet and I can see him thinking, his hands in front of him as he pulls at his graying beard. "Give them the weekend to cool down. You relax too. I'll reach out and sort out a couple things so next week goes smoothly."

"No- Papa I don't want you to have to fix my mistakes." The guilt of my actions weighs heavy. "I'm sorry, Papa. I am."

"It's okay, Diamond," Papa says gently with a note of finality. "I don't mind. Aise kuch hona tha- I just wish it didn't happen when I wasn't there."[something like this was going to happen]

"The worst part was that they all sided with him." I barely hear myself.

"I know." There's a new sadness in Papa's voice, something I've never heard before - an understanding only gained by experience. But then he perks up slightly, hope woven between his words, "Even his son? Liam?"

Liam, with his manila folder and a flushed face. "Yeah." Liam, coming all the way to the house, scowl on his face at Tom. "I mean..." Liam, with his face stuffed with pita and falafel. "I... I don't know."

And then it hits me; I remember what I said to him.

"Like father, like son!"

"I'm not... you know... like, what you said- that's not... I'm not..."

"I... I don't know. I thought so, but maybe..."

Papa hums along with my broken speech, waiting for me to trail off. "That one has potential. Chalo, I have some things to take care of and you should get yourself something to eat. Say hi to Tom for me?" [okay]

It's like a punch to the heart and the sharp shards press into me even more painfully. "I-" Tears flood my eyes. "Yeah, I will Papa. I love you."

"I love you too, baacha. Oh, and don't worry, sab theek hai. Okay, bye." [it's all okay]

The screen goes dark and my reflection greets me: scrunched eyebrows, soggy cheeks, hollow eyes.

I'm a mess; a disappointment and a disaster.

This can't pass for a person. It's kind to call myself a thing.

A thing.

"My gem, my jewel, my crown."

A thing

My reflection's eyes widen in realization and I drop my phone on the bed.

It's an overwhelming feeling; all I can focus on are the things surrounding me: the pillows behind my head, the painting on the wall across from me, the hardwood desk sitting in the corner of the room, the pens and notepad atop the desk. I suck in a breath hoping to calm my heart, but all that echoes in my head is, "My gem, my jewel, my crown."

A thing, a thing, a thing. All I was - all I am - a thing.

The thought's sickening, and my vision goes blurry as my eyes dart desperately around the room, trying to settle on something that's not a thing. But the objects around me seem to be multiplying and growing in size as I shrink further and further into the bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, and for a moment it's dark and quiet, but then light gleams in the darkness, two orbs of green glinting dangerously.

My eyes fly open, and my chest heaves as I gasp in air, trying to forget the image.

With a shaky breath, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders tighter and get off the bed to sit by the window. My own reflection greets me in the glass once more, disheveled and panicky, and that hurts to look at too.

Such a disgusting sight.

I press my nose to the window, breaking through the reflection, relishing how the touch of cold runs through me in shivers.

Buildings, traffic lights, cars, buses, trash cans - all I see are more things.

Things, just like me.

I stare hard at a sliver of gray sky between two buildings as I feel my vision haze, becoming unfocused and blurry. My eyes burn even as I feel tears forming at their edges. It's a horrible feeling. Blinking would relieve the pain in an instant.

But blinking would make everything clear again. And that's even worse.

I stare at that one speck of gray, which now looks more blue than black, even as tears stream down my face and my eyebrows shake from the strain of keeping my eyes open for so long.

I forget I am Diamond and feel like a thing amongst other things.

***

hello :)

i know it's been a while.... a long while.... and i apologize for this abysmally short chapter

thank you all for being so lovely and supportive - it made me miss this even more than i ever imagined i could

i'm still trying to get back in the rhythm of writing and getting back into Diamond's head, so if this feels off-brand that's probably why :\

some housekeeping things:

1) for the hindi/punjabi, would you prefer for the words to be italicized... because Diamond's thoughts are italicized already (maybe y'all would prefer it to be bolded? or maybe for the translations to be in the comments? idk just lemme know what y'all prefer :)

2) would it be better for the chapter names to remain like this or be numbered or both? i don't mind anyway (the chapters will still end in the same way, i've just realized that it's easy - for me too lol - to get lost in how far we are into the story)

and thank you again for all your support, i hope you enjoyed the update :)

as always, i'm kinda making this up as we go....so i don't know what comes next either (well, kinda ;)

so until i see you all again,

all my love, and then some more

JustAnotherDarling