I sleep through most of Sunday, jerking out of a nightmare around four in the afternoon. I sit up in the bed, bathed in warm, sunlight that glows gold against my sweaty, shivering body.

Even with my eyes open, two orbs of green burn into my mind, the malice reflected in them wraps around my heart like ivy.

Tom's eyes.

Tom.

His name causes my stomach to turn, and I hold a hand over my mouth. Wait, no. That's the alcohol from last night.

Nevertheless, I frantically untangle myself out of the sheets and rush into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I begin retching.

Once I empty my stomach - and a few internal organs, too, I'm sure - I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth in a futile attempt to feel cleaner.

I hate puking. I'm never drinking again.

When I lean too far forward and bonk my head on the mirror, I decide that I'm still not fully functioning and shuffle back to bed. After a quick call to the front desk to extend my stay one more night, I flop into the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow's Monday. I have work on Monday.

Work. Where I'll see Liam. Work. Where all the pictures of Tom and I are hung up.

I think for a few moments before rolling over and reaching for my phone on the bedside table. I scroll through my contacts, searching for one in particular. I dial and it goes straight to voicemail. Thank God.

"Hey Michelle, this is Diamond Diademe. I have some personal things to work out so I will be out for..." How long will I be out? "I... hmm... I should be back soon, but until then, I trust you to take care of my schedule. That's all. Have a good afternoon."

I cut the call and push my phone as far away from myself as I can, ignoring it as it falls onto the floor with a loud clatter. It doesn't matter. Then I squeeze my eyes shut, pray that I won't see more green, and sleep off once again.

***

I find myself up at five in the morning on Monday, unable to sleep any more. I consider getting ready for work, but then remember that it would just be ten hours of plastering a plastic smile and faking a positive attitude.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to return to work.

The sky is dark; so is my room. The emptiness bleeds a deep silence that permeates through me and riles up my sediment thoughts. Whirlwinds of memories and hopes and dreams slam around in my head, and at the center of it all, is me - the cause, the problem.

I stare down at my hands, tracing over my countless palm lines, and think back to something Papa told me when I was a child. Each line is a worry, baacha. Look at my hands - so smooth - and look at yours! So, so many lines. Tell me, baacha, why are you so worried? [child] Then he hugged me when I started panicking and told me that it was just a joke, that I'd be completely fine.

A tear slips down my face and lands in the middle of my palm. The drop leaks into the many rivulets running through my hands and disappears in seconds.

So many worries. All mine, because of me.

I purse my lips and close my eyes. The rest of the tears that have been gathering in them finally fall.

***

The feeling of emptiness trickles down from my heart to my stomach a few hours after the sun rises.

I drag myself out of the bed and pad over to the closet, as if my clothes will suddenly appear. Alas, I have no clothes.

Yes, that's an issue that needs to be resolved.

For now, though, I weigh my options. I disregard Liam's robe - I threw it in the bin for a reason - but consider wearing Elliott's clothes again, before shrugging that idea off too. I wrap myself in one of the heavy robes provided by the hotel. I stuff my pockets with my phone and room card before I slip my feet into my heels and get into the elevator.

An overripe banana and stale cup of coffee later, I'm heading out the revolving door I came in.

It's funny, actually. No one bats an eye if you're wearing just a robe and stilettos inside the reception of a hotel, but step outside, and suddenly it's like you're the main attraction. There's nothing to even see! The robe covers anything that might be considered "distracting" - unless knees are now something that people find irresistible.

I hurriedly flag down a cab to escape the ogling. The cabbie, thankfully, doesn't seem to care about my state of dress so long as I can pay the fare. Once I assure him that I can, we're off.

We drive up and down the streets of the city. I aimlessly direct us, and the cabbie navigates the tourist traffic until one store catches my eyes and I ask to be dropped off.

Inside the store, I make my way around. Searching. For what, I'm not sure yet.

My hands skim over skirts in floral prints and dresses adorned with pearls. Bright colors, compared to the otherwise drab black and grays, stand out and invite me in. A dark, form-fitting dress catches my eye and I halt. It's a v-neck in a startling emerald green. It'd match perfectly with-

Tom's eyes.

And like clockwork, tears pool in my eyes once more.

I'm still looking to match with Tom. Tom, who doesn't love. Tom, for whom I wasn't good enough.

I wasn't enough.

I put the dress away, my mind in a haze, unsure of whether it's the dress that looks so extraordinarily ugly all of a sudden or the idea of me wearing something so gorgeous when I am anything but.

"Hi, there!" The chipper voice of a saleswoman startles me. "Can I help you with anything today?"

I consider saying no, but then glance back at the dress. "Actually, yes. Can you show me something that's the complete opposite of this?"

***

After twenty minutes of allowing myself to be styled, I walk out of the store with the hotel robe in a bag along with a dozen other outfits that weigh nearly ten kilos.

I'm dressed in an all-white suit that feels as foreign to me as a suit of armor. My blazer's strong shoulder makes me look stockier than usual, my flimsy blouse rubs uncomfortably against my skin, my high-waisted pants suffocate my slightly protruding stomach, and my short block heels bring my height to a meager 5'4".

I am miserable.

But it's different. And different is what I need.

***

I immediately collapse on the couch and kick off my pointless (in more ways than one) heels when I enter my room. I laze about for a few minutes until my blouse rubs against my skin again, and I decide to peel off all these unfamiliar clothes and hop into the shower.

As the hot water pours down on me, my mind drifts once more.

Tom. Work. Home. Tom.

What am I going to do?

All I know for sure is that I can't go back to the house. I can't.

But I can't stay here either.

Think, think, think.

And gradually, it builds until all I can hear is THINK and I don't know if I'm actually screaming or it's all in my head.

No. No. No. Stop. Stop. Stop!

I escape from the shower, sputtering as I wrap myself in a towel.

I dress in one of the more bearable outfits I bought today - a pair of leggings and a sweater - then reach for my phone once more.

She picks up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Mona aunty?" I ask - just to make sure Mumma gave me the right number however long ago.

"Diamond? Beta, tum ho?" [child, is that you]

"Hanji, Mona aunty. How are you?" [yes]

"Theek, theek. Kya chal raha hai?"[I'm okay. What's going on in your life?]

"Actually, I wanted to ask a favor." I bite my lip as a sudden wave of indecisiveness crashes over me.

"Haan, haan. Of course, beta. What can I do?" [yes, yes]

"I'm planning on moving. And I don't want to keep any-" Wait, no! There are all the gifts from Mumma and Papa! "Sorry, I'm not planning on keeping most of my stuff."

And before I can even finish, Mona aunty interrupts. "We'll help, beta. Just tell us what you want to keep; we'll clear that place out for you, joh bhee chiya hai." [whatever you need]

"Thank you." My voice wobbles with relief and I surprise myself with how vulnerable yet safe I feel at this moment.

***

It's only when I end the call with Mona aunty after detailing how to go about emptying the house do I realize I'm going to have to extend my stay at the hotel again.

It's only until I find a new place, I remind myself.

Still, I'm jittery. I can't sit still, so I make my way down to the lobby.

It only takes a few minutes for me to explain my situation to the woman at the front desk and extend my stay. It's a different woman from last night; this one's much nicer.

After that ordeal, I wander around until I come across a bar. I perch myself on a stool, waiting for the bartender to pop up.

Am I being drastic by having the house emptied? I haven't even talked to Tom since he...

Tom. Oh, Tom. I loved you, Tom.

"What can I get for you today, ma'am?" The bartender's gravely voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I think for a moment. I'm not much of a drinker; I should just ask for some tea and call it a day, but that's normal for me.

Different. Different! You're trying to be different!

Maybe if I drink, I'll be different enough.

Maybe... if I drink, I'll be enough.

"Uh... Something. Anything." I tell him.

He raises an eyebrow, as though he knows the thoughts circulating through my brain. "Water?"

I hesitate for a second before, "Well, anything but that."

He nods and bends down, grabbing a glass. A few minutes later, he slides a glass filled with pink liquid over to me. I raise it to my lips and take a cautious sip.

"Is that-"

"Raspberry," he finishes for me. He chuckles and leans on the counter, flashing me a smile. "You like?"

Actually... "So very much."

I take another sip, and my eyes catch sight of the swirls of white ink that flow up his dark arms. When my eyes meet his, he grins. Oh gosh. He noticed me staring!

"Yeah, I have a girl that does all my ink."

It's just the two of us at the bar, and he relaxes against the counter as we talk about each little piece of art on his arms. He explains the story behind each one - and even gives me a sneak-peak of the gorgeous calligraphy just above his waistline.

My first drink is also my last, but I linger, enjoying his company. Of course, we're not alone forever. As time passes, people come and go. Each time, he leaves to attend to them, but he always returns to me to chat up a storm.

Like this, we spend hours talking, drifting from topic to topic - all of them meaningless, but comforting. And when I mention that I haven't eaten since breakfast, he calls someone to bring me food.

Is it too soon to call this man my new best friend?

New? Who is he replacing?

It doesn't matter; he's obviously a top-tier human being!

But all great things must end, and at half-past seven, my lovely bartender gives a short bow and says, "Well, it's been great talking to you, but I'm done for today."

I don't want to see him go, but I understand. "Aww, such a pity." I flaunt a fake frown and he laughs. "Well, thank you for this afternoon. I've had a wonderful time."

"As have I," he smiles, wrapping a coat around his shoulders before waving me goodbye.

I stay for a while after his departure. There's a bubble of warmth, finally, in my chest; it beats with... joy.

That's the longest time since Friday that I've felt... okay.

I feel okay?

I feel okay!

It's all thanks to my bartender. I regret not getting his name.

"Hello there, my name is Charlie! What can I get for you today?"

I jolt, nearly falling off the stool if not for the two large hands that steady me. I look up to see a new man behind the bar, wearing a smile just as bright as the previous.

"Thank you," I say, my face slowly burning hotter and hotter by the second, mortified by my lack of balance. "But I was just leaving..." I think... I think I'm ready. I think I'm going to go back-

"I have work early morning tomorrow!"

***

I don't bother with a phone call - it feels like I've been making calls all day - and just send Michelle a quick text: I'll be at work tomorrow at 7:30. Have my schedule ready, please. Thank you.

I take note of the countless missed calls and texts I have, but pay them no heed.

I'll deal with it when I deal with it.

So I set my alarm, put my phone down beside me, and sit up against the backboard. I watch the sun drop lower and lower into the sky until I'm left staring at the city lights shine bright in the dark of night as I wait for sleep to swoop in and claim me.

***

Tuesday morning arrives sooner than I expect it to. Despite the fact that I set my alarm for later thinking that I'd have more time to sleep in since I have a negligible commute to work, I find myself up at five-thirty.

Why? Because my phone won't stop ringing!

I've cut off whoever is trying to call me three times, but they're persistent.

"Who could be so desperate to talk to me this early in the morning?" I grumble, reaching out for my phone the fourth time it starts to ring. "What?" I bark at the screen.

"Is that how you answer the phone? I know Papa and I didn't raise you like this! Who did you learn this from?"

Crap.

"Mumma?" It's not really a question - this woman's voice is etched into my earliest memories; there's no way I don't recognize it now.

"Aur kaun?" [who else]

"Sorry, Ma, abhee uthee hoon. Good morning, kaise ho?" [just woke up] [how are you]

"You didn't call, so then I called. But then, you didn't pick up. Kahaan thee tu?" [where were you] Ah, good old Mumma. Always straight to the point.

"Thanks for asking Ma - yeah, I've been good too," I answer sarcastically before adding, "I've been really busy these past few days though, that's why."

"Are you eating properly? At least three fruits a day? Theek hai sab?" [is everything okay]

Is everything okay? The better question would be is anything okay?

But I can't say that. It'll worry Mumma. I don't want that.

So I distract her with my own slew of questions. "How was everything? How was the flight? Are you settled?"

"What have you been- "

"Mahi!" I hear Papa in the back. "Are you talking to Diamond? I want to talk to Diamond." There's a pause; then, "Diamond, is that you?" his voice booms.

"Haan, Papa, mein hoon," I yell back. [yes] [it's me]

I can practically hear the smile on Papa's face when he says, "Ah Mahi, daiy mennu phone." [give me the]

There's shuffling in the back, and I wince when - I think - Papa drops his phone on the concrete floor, producing shrill feedback my brain wants to kill my ears for receiving.

I feel better when Papa says some of my favorite words though: "Haan mera laadla, I'm good. So happy you called. I love you mera baacha." [yes my dear] [my child]

"How is everyone?"

"A little older; otherwise just the same. You know how the Bhatia parivaar is - we're strong; we're stubborn; we don't change." [family]

I don't know how to respond to Papa. I look around the room as if it'll give me something to say, and it hits me hard: I'm only in this room because I couldn't go back to my house.

I ran away. I'm a coward.

My heart sinks.

I'm not strong.

Am I even a proper Bhatia?

At the rate my heart is plummeting, I'm certain it's only seconds away from been melted at the core of the Earth. It's time to do what I do best: leave.

"Hey Papa, I have to get ready for work now." Lie. "I have to go."

"Acha baacha, stay happy, stay strong. I love you." [okay child]

Stay strong? Stay? Was I ever strong?

I can't do this anymore. "Okay. Love you. Bye."

I hang up and drop my phone on the bed. Then I walk over to the closet; it would be useless to try to fall asleep again. I sit down on the ground and sort through my countless new, unknown clothes.

I forget I am Diamond, and assemble my armor.

***

hello there!!! honestly, i'm just thrilled i finished this chapter in time haha (tysm wattpad for not saving my work!)

hope you enjoyed this tumultuous chapter of Diamond's life :)

and i know this is shorter than my previous chapters, but i've realized that there's really no point in my fluffing up a chapter unnecessarily.... so umm

FOREWARNING: inconsistent lengths of chapters will be a common occurrence in this story! ;)

aside from that, i'll be honest and say that i don't really love this chapter....  a chapter without Liam or Elliott is bleak indeed :(

BUT IT'S OVER AND I'M SO THRILLED TO ADVANCE THE STORY!!

so i shall see you all again - with Elliott AND Liam - in another 3 weeks at the very most

as always, thank you for reading!

all my love, and then some more

JustAnotherDarling

don't forget to vote! :D