5200 words. I am so scared about the response on this one. 

Inline comments and votes are so so appreciated :")

⭒

Nandini

The cartoon pajama set I picked out was a comforting weight in my lap, as I arched my neck at Mukti's standing form. Forcing an upbeat smile, I said the words as I had rehearsed them. "I actually spoke to your brother today."

"You did what? Are you –?"

Like a blade perfectly crafted to slice through my front, her concern wafted in the air. If she asked if I was okay, I would have broken down, no doubt about it.

And that would ruin everything I was trying to achieve. Quick to justify my actions and put an end to any questions that would raise suspicions on my current state, I confessed, "I had to. Honestly, I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There was so much I needed to say to him... that I had bottled up for seven long years."

Mukti crouched beside me, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my heart race. She knew me way too well, which had me second-guessing my plan. What if...

"Nandini," she uttered lowly, "Are you really okay?"

I took a deep breath while keeping my features intact, the curves along my lips only widening. "You don't believe me?"

"It's not that," she clarified, clearing her throat to better phrase what she wanted to say, "I just don't understand how... Wait, is this about you and Dhruv?"

Jolted by the seemingly irrelevant connection, I forced out a laugh that felt hollow and strained, "No, no, of course not. There neither is nor was anything between me and Dhruv. Where's this coming from?"

"Because... Manik upset you deeply. How can you be okay with all this, unless you have someone else in mind?" Her eyes narrowed.

"I mean... he did hurt me. For years, I couldn't come to terms with him leaving me after everything we shared."

Mukti's gaze grew more troubled, as if affirming her curiosity and the beliefs she had held about me. "So what changed?"

Ignoring my pounding heart, I looked down at the nightsuit in my lap, and my fingers nervously criss-crossed underneath the folded garment. "Talking to him today made me realize that the boy I was holding onto is not this Manik. That boy is long gone, and will only exist in a figment of my memories. I received the answers I sought for years... and that chapter naturally received closure today. With this new Manik, there's no baggage."

It seemed insufficient for two crossed fingers to shield me from the white-faced lie, so I criss-crossed them in both hands while maintaining cover. "I can... I can see us actually being friends."

Even saying it out loud set off tremors in my heart. Images of him clutching me, bumping me into him and his gaze smouldering into mine a few hours ago had me in a near chokehold. It reminded me exactly of how vulnerable I still was, how much control he had over me and how... how he didn't even think twice about his own relationship status when exercising his charm on me. How could I face him on the regular while shelving my stupid emotions, that brewed and blazed with the same intensity as they did seven years ago?

Why had I brought this terrible torture upon myself, to be acquaintances with him?

Mukti shook her head, muttering 'unbelievable' under her breath. "You're lying. I know you saw me with him before his performance. That's why you're saying all this. Show me your fingers."

My attempts at maintaining composure were fraying at their ends, yet I gulped, refusing to give up. The only way out of it was to weave in a fragment of truth.

"I agree... yes, I did see you two, but I spoke to him only after his performance. He really misses you. And as someone who cannot go a single day without my brothers in my life, I can't fathom the pain you both are feeling. I think you should meet him, hear his side."

It was so ironic that I was suggesting her to do that when I knew full well that his side – his current unaffected, unscathed side – was a lack of accountability for his own shortcomings. Was it his ignorance, or his arrogance, who could tell? Picking out weaknesses in the other person, however, was cakewalk for him.

And he is the same man you still dearly love, came an inner taunt.

Her eyes turned blood-shot, as if she was trying to restrain a stream of tears from unleashing at any moment. "I don't think it's wise. He probably thinks I have betrayed him and I don't want to... I don't have it in me to sit through that aftermath for the second time. And if I get past all this, but Abhi finds out I want to reconnect with Manik... what would he think of me?"

History was yet again repeating itself, putting sibling bonds on the line to salvage budding relationships. On one hand was the comfort zone Mukti grew up with: Manik. He was her brother, her blood-bound companion, the unwavering boulder in her life and protector since birth – the one person who had known her the longest.

On the other was my brother, Abhi – the person she leaned on now, the safe haven Mukti had come to embrace by choice, not by blood. She couldn't pick her family, but she had choices when it came to picking her friends and the people she chose to be around.

Between the security she grew up with, and the security she chose to foster, what would she pick?

It was no compromise – it was one or the other. Whichever way she swayed, pain was inevitable, just like it was for me when I sacrificed half of what was near and dear to me... all for the sake of a boy.

So when it came to facing that, did she have blind faith in her decision? Did she have the strength to face those repurcussions?

I leaned in, my voice desperate yet soothing as I wanted her to rethink her decision. Not once, not twice but over and over... until every possibility, every thought was backed up by a logical rational explanation.

"Don't worry about him. Think about yourself for once, Mukti," I quipped hypocritically, after constantly letting myself down each time... every time the opportunity presented itself to me.

"I can't keep secrets from Abhi. They've ruined us before." Choosing to base your whole life on a boy who can dump you at any time ruins you even more, my inner voice bartered, a bead of a tear forming in the inner corners of one of my eyes. Her desire was crystal clear: she wanted to.

As a friend, would I not be failing her if I didn't support her decision?

"But Manik's your brother. Family always comes first," I pleaded, trying to appease her with a viable solution that would heal a fragmented family, despite my own inner turmoil that selfishly urged her to choose my brother – who would treat her well regardless of the circumstances. All I wanted him to be was...

...to be someone's first choice.

I hiccupped at the echo of Manik's voice as they rang in my ears.

She firmly shook her head, dejected by my ideals, which reeled me back to the present. "Not in my world, Nandini."

Deeply sighing, I was resentful at the wave of sheer relief that swept over me. A part of my heart had yearned for her to save me from facing Manik Malhotra ever again, just like he said I did.

Her doing so would only satiate my inner ego, and prove that my sacrifices and efforts were worth something, nothing else. And I would only be proving Manik right.

How disgusting and pathetic of me to cherish in the sorrows and dilemmas of my friends!

But on a further thought, wasn't it a good sign? Her current equation with my brother meant more to her than her long-lost bond with her brother. At least one of us wasn't stuck in the past, or continuing to ruin their lives because of it.

But the pain... that was inevitable, regardless.

"Alright, I'll leave it to you." I uttered bravely, wanting to assure her that whatever she chose to do, she was not alone in doing it. I would be there for her, just the way she was for me when I was at my lowest.

Amma's voice floated from downstairs, snapping us out of it. "Nandu, Mukti... come downstairs, beta. Dinner is ready."

"Coming, Amma." I called and turned to my friend. Playfully, I tapped her chin with an empty palm, invigorated by the reminder that I was in my home... my childhood home. "Forget everything else. For tonight, you're one of the Murthys."

She smiled, dabbing the corners of her eyes to clear her ducts from the previous, rather heavy, conversation. Pleased by the subtle change in her mood, I gently teased, "And you could be one forever too, you know?"

"Chup kar!"

I giggled, internally lighter. "You go downstairs, I'll just use the bathroom and come."  

⭒⭒⭒

Manik

From the backdoor I directed Nandini to at some point earlier in the night, her brother appeared with a transparent plastic cup, half-filled and condensing. "Guess who I was just talking to... Veebha Ma'am from Warrior High na, she offered to write me a recommendation letter for a science college in Bangalore." His eyes sparkled with the thrill of the unexpected opportunity, the only sense of positivity amongst the grim group.

Through the corner of my eye, I noticed Mukti glowering at me, fixed at the same spot we had our altercation at. Whether Abhimanyu was a grovelling reminder of what transpired here prior or her own conscience did not allow her to stay any longer, she got up and left through the glass door.

Abhi's face dropped and a slight frown replaced his lips at the missed chance to impress her with his news. Shrugging off the momentary letdown, Abhi turned his attention back to the rest of us as Dhruv tipped his glass into his mouth, "It was so random, really," Abhi continued, casually strolling towards my chair.

With every step he took, the realisation that I had upset Nandini terribly reverberated. She was definitely going to keep her distance from me henceforth. Merely blinking, I hopelessly eyed the sliding glass and my sister that scanned the premises of the hall.

"Matlab, she just struck up a conversation with me in the kitchen while I was filling up some iced water, and... yeh pakad," he said, extending a cup of iced water towards me with a mild grin while my head was turned elsewhere.

Abruptly, I sprung off the chair and followed Mukti.

"Abey, oh! Isse kya hua?" Abhi's voice trailed behind me, thoroughly confused.

"Just sibling fights." Cabir twitched his lips, gesturing the seat I had just vacated. "You sit,"

My galloping footsteps alarmed Mukti, and she pulled me into a hidden corridor that led up the stairs to our rooms.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Manik?" She flung me around, her tone sharp and exasperated. "Tu aise baat karta hai Nandini ke saath?"

I tensed my shoulders uneasily, my eyes brutally narrowing at her. "What I do with my life is my business, okay?"

My rigid frame signified my resistance to engage in a chat, least of all with her. How dare she question me, when she was just lounging around, snuggling with her boyfriend and unwilling to take a stand for Nandini? It was easy to point fingers after the damage was done, but did she take any action to prevent it?

Then she couldn't tell me shit!

"Your life?" She gasped, appalled by my selfish choice of words. "Right, yours. Only yours. Aur koi toh hai hi nahi Mr. Manik Malhotra ki duniya mein!" Filled with disappointment, she defeatedly threw her hands up. "Maybe it was a good thing I didn't intervene with Dhruv."

My features darkened with betrayal as I processed what she had just said. Dhruv. "Matlab kya hai tumhara?" I demanded, my voice unusually low and intense, almost threatening. She briefly touched on the agreement Dhruv and Cabir had between themselves, resulting in my two fists that were clenched tightly at my sides.

Needing no further explanation, I swivelled and moved. "Where are you going?" She gripped my forearm in an attempt to turn me around.

"Just leave me alone," I growled, enraged beyond belief at nobody in particular. Shrugging off Mukti's grip with a jerk, I took one step when she barricaded me.

"Nahi, baat kar. I know how you get when you bottle it up," Mukti said firmly, her eyes locked onto me.

"What do you expect me to say, huh? I'm fucking furious. Of all people, you... who knows me the most... also thinks Nandini deserves Dhruv, not me." I bit my quivering lip, my eyebrows knit in distressed anguish. Despite not wanting to feel any of those emotions, I felt myself losing control. She paled. "Baaki soche, na soche lekin tum... you're also choosing Dhruv over your brother?" My disbelief took her by stunned surprise as she stood rooted in her spot, even as I began evading.

She blocked me again with her arms stretched either side. "Of course not! I'm trying to keep your secret intact, Bhai," Her words were swallowed in her throat as mere whispers made it to the surface. I plucked my eyes from her frame to the floor, desperately seeking inner strength in a vulnerable moment.

Wanting to get a hold of herself and not cave in, she refused to budge from the task at hand – to put some sense into me, regardless of how I felt because of it. Some things just had to be said, and confronted, out loud.

With renewed irritation, she called back, "The way Dhruv opened up to Cabir, you too could have, lekin nahi. Teri life hai na, tu kyoon kisiko kuch bataayega!" Her voice was steady, but laced with helplessness at the situation.

"You could have protected her, you didn't!" It came off as a plead, despite my attempts to accuse her. Guilt of lashing out at Nandini pricked me. That feeling of admitting my failures, and completely surrendering all control to someone – even my own sister – unnerved me.

I masked it with sheer frustration, as I shoved my fist through a wall, puncturing the plaster on it.

Mukti jumped, but glared. "You know I wouldn't have let her fucking drink it!"

"Do I? Listen..." I pressed my temples, trying to calm my voice down by several notches. "You can admit that you felt your fucked-up brother does not deserve a girl like her, saaf saaf dikh raha hai!"

She crossed her arms, letting a few tears loose. "Even if I didn't believe it before, you yelling at her is enough of a reason for me to think so." And she was right. Raising my voice at Nandini was a power stance; for that reason alone, I was thoroughly undeserving of her.

Maturity reflected clearly in her posture as she stood resolute, and yet again, she had the upper hand: the prodigy child amongst the two of us.

I found myself unwillingly confessing, rather justifying my actions with, "Gusse mein tha, bas muh se nikal gaya!" She read my defensive tone and my averted eyes, and rolled her eyes at my tendency to evade accountability for my actions.

"Kis baat ka gussa exactly, woh bhi ek baar sochle! Are you actually angry at your friends for toying with her, at me for being neutral instead of picking sides, or at her for wanting to create a positive impression on us? Kyoonki tere gusse ka humesha –"

"– ek aur reason hota hai –" We said in unison, reflecting on the dialogue she usually used at me, to lecture me.

Mukti nodded as she added, "...yes, jo tu dikhaata nahi hai. Toh iss baar soch... iss baar tu akela nahi hai."

I did as she told, justifying that my outburst at Nandini was for a valid reason. The girl lacked a spine when it came to setting her foot down.

⭒⭒⭒

Mukti

I was skipping down the stairway, thrilled about spending some time with the Murthys' when I heard Uncle whisper albeit in a loud hiss, "Bangalore mein un theeno ki marzi hi chalti hai, lekin Mumbai mein uske paas khud ka ghar hai na?"

Freezing in my footsteps, I scooted towards the wall, hidden from their sight.

Were they talking about me?

Even though the Murthys' resided in Mumbai, I knew from Nandini and Abhi that the family spoke English on the regular, taking into account Mr. Murthy's Kannada background and Mrs. Murthy's Punjabi lineage. In fact, English worked all the more better for them once Abhi, Nandini and Rishabh moved in with them, as language-barrier never hindered their bond.

So, why was it that Uncle was speaking in Hindi with Aunty, unless they had wanted me to hear them?

Aunty was keeping a warm pot of chole on a coaster on the dining table and Uncle was following her, chatting with her while circumbulating the table with her.

Abhimanyu was washing some glasses in the kitchen sink further away, probably unaware of the tangent their conversation took. From his body language at least, that was what I could tell.

"Murthy ji, guest hai woh humaari..." Swatting her husband, Aunty walked around the table, flipping the plates Uncle had set right-side-up.

He looked cursorily over his shoulder at his eldest nephew, who barely paid heed to them, and exaggerated some hand movements with his wife in distress, "Kuch din mein yeh theeno chale jaayenge... aur yeh toh bacchhe hai, padosi hume hi puchenge, ki shaadi se pehle ek kuwari ladki ko humne ghar mein kaise basaaya..."

About to move from there, Aunty turned, only to find me in the dining area in front of them.

"Mukti beta," She gasped, feeling startled. Her smile was instant as she palmed her face and searched for some words, her cheeks abruptly flushing.

I didn't know how and when I had gotten there myself, encroaching a space not meant for me, but I didn't feel good hovering on the fringes, eavesdropping on them while out of their sight either. Warmth from the fragrant curry contrasted the chilling callousness in the room, one I had casted by gracing the family with my presence.

"Have... have a seat na?" Aunty glowered at her husband for putting her on the spot.

The thought of having a meal with them nauseated me.

Gripping the wooden dowels of the dining chair for some support, I barely made eye-contact. But in a calm composed tone, in a familiar passive-aggressive matter I snarkily said, "Nahi Aunty, Nandini aati hi hogi, I'll wait."

My response had her reeling backwards, as if she had not expected me to know Hindi or speak back in it. Her face reddened, as did Uncle's, as they uncomfortably headed into the kitchen to discuss something.

Abhimanyu was beginning to get looped into the matter when Nandini descended and joyfully took a seat beside mine, scooting her chair inwards. She patted the chair I was clutching, so I would sit next to her.

You're one of the Murthys, her chirpy voice from earlier reverberated.

I shut my eyes and didn't move from my spot. An unwelcome outsider was who I was.

"What happened, why are you looking sad?" She asked softly, clasping my hand that enclosed the wooden handle. Leaning in, she examined me better. "You're crying?" Her gasp alerted the other adults in the room.

Not wanting to garner any more attention on myself, I mumbled to her with a small smile, "Nothing like that."

Nandini's immediate reaction was to stare down at her brother, who was gulping hard. The poor guy, more often than not, was roped into unspoken accusations for the dips in my mood even in Bangalore.

Nervously, Abhi chimed, "Apparently, Chikkappa said something to Chikkamma in Hindi without realising Mukti understands Hindi."

"And what was it about?"

Eager to sweep the matter under covers, I began saying, "Nandini, it's –"

A palm came before me as she continued addressing her family, not even turning my way. "Wait a second, Mukti."

Uncle responded softly, appearing guilty, "Shaadi."

"That doesn't explain why she's upset. Amma, what happened here?" Nandini cross-examined, now firmly holding onto my hand.

Aunty, who was on the verge of breaking down herself, was struck by the tender term 'Amma' which had her subsequently bursting into tears. She narrated the whole incident to her niece between hiccups, her battered emotions mirroring my brutally lacerated ones.

Visibly enraged at the information, Nandini stormed up from her seat.

"Appa, how could you say something like that?!" Her voice was loud even though her tone was respectful. How she did that, I had absolutely no idea! "You've raised us by teaching us how to be welcoming and accepting of everyone... why, haven't you and Amma adopted us three and brought us up like your own children? How can you differentiate her from us?"

My breath hitched in my throat at the open-ended questions she was throwing at him – a parental figure. Uncle's gaze was fixed to the floor.

"And you..." She turned towards her brother, sharply scolding in a tone distinct from the one she used with the elders, "Abhi, you just let them speak about her like that?"

"I didn't –"

Uncle interjected hurriedly, so as to not be misunderstood. "It's not like that, kanna, tomorrow if you..."

"Okay," Nandini irritably shut him down, "Say I did stay over at a boy's house before marriage and you got to know about it, would you treat me like an outsider?" Uncle and Aunty were alarmed by the question. I dearly wished she would not expose or recount those experiences before her family. That would lead to devastating consequences, beyond what she could take on and I of all people did not want to be the reason those secrets were coming out in the open.

How and what could I do to make it stop? My turbulent gaze met Abhi's cold one as a desperate plea for assistance. He instead glowered at his sister.

We had gone a long way in trying to keep Nandini's diary far from his reach, that even when he learned of the breakup, he only knew bits and pieces from narration – particularly mine. None of the entries went to him. The worst thing in the world would be such information coming to light now... after all those conscious efforts to keep them under wraps.

"Will I no longer be your daughter, or part of your family?" She quipped, holding back a cry. I too pressed my jaws tight to control my freshly brimming tear.

The elders denied, "Not at all, but what will the socie –"

"What society, haan? Who is this society that we care so much about? Society wants young adults to marry na, men and women must be married by a certain age, so fine... our Amma-Appa were in love, they got married, but they're gone now – they were gone too young – can we get them back?" She trembled like a withered leaf with every word that left her lips, though sounding brave and unwavering.

I stilled, my gut twisting uncomfortably as I anticipated a rude, controlling reprimand from them. Perhaps a whiplash at the uncontrollable emotions that just left her shaking body.

That was how outbursts of such magnitude were regulated, right?

But the room was quiet, witnessing a silent outpour of tears from all. Indeed, the unnatural calm before the storm.

That only meant the worst was yet to come, wasn't it?

"Amma and Appa were good people, pure beings that went out of their way to help those in need, but they didn't get the happiness they were promised. They couldn't raise us to be the people we are today. Why, why did they have to go, why did they have to sacrifice?"

I pulled her into a secure hug, gently comforting her hiccuping cries in the way I knew best... by patting her cheek as she sobbed relentlessly, clinging on to me for dear life.

Abhi too was teary, but held on to Aunty who was as equally a mess as Nandini. Nervous about the aftermath of Aunty's emotional state, I sided by Nandini as a means to protect the girl from the harm her family could inflict on her.

Nandini sniffled, regaining some strength from the vocal outburst. "Society says na to have kids by a certain age, but do you know how many kids are born every day to broken families, and left every day because parents are unable to keep their promises? Why are they unhappy, what was their fault in all this, tell me?"

"Nandini, shh... it's alright." I rubbed her back, urging her to stop fighting with her family for me. She did not have to take such huge risks, that too for me.

Uncle shook his head, as if unable to justify his stance in any verbal way. Not a yell, not a whip, not a single word was spoken out of aggression or irritaion at his child. All he did was pause in silence. Uncanny.

Swirling her index finger in the air like a tornado, Nandini continued advocating, her tone still courteous although assertive – the perfect blend of the two, "All this while, we have followed all these rules society has put in place for us. We have always put ourselves last because we have valued everyone else above ourselves, but we have gotten nothing but pain in return... So, if two people want to do what makes them happy, who is society or who are any one of us to question that?"

Mystified both by how eloquently she spoke her mind, and by how open her family was to hearing her side, I deeply breathed. Multiple times. Perhaps now came the showdown moment.

Abhimanyu softly smiled, bridging the gap and coddling his sister in his warm embrace, weeping alongside her. Ever so often, he pecked the top of her head, whispering how proud he was of his little sister and how grateful he was to have her in his life.

An organ in my chest pricked at the sight.

She wet her brother's shirt with her cries, and once her face was wiped clean by him, she turned to Aunty and Uncle who were at the edge, wholeheartedly apologetic. "You know what Appa, if you're not comfortable with us staying over, we'll find some alternative arrangements, I'm very sorry for..."

"No no, please don't go," Uncle nearly pleaded to Nandini and then made eye-contact with me, his red eyes a sign of his ache, "I'm really very sorry beta, I didn't realise you understood Hindi. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else with my statements. This is all very new for us too," Taken aback by the candid apology I had never seen an adult ask for, least of all someone as old and wise as him, I rapidly blinked.

Aunty, feeling obligated to explain herself, added in between her incoherent sobs, "In our time, love itself was frowned upon. Our marriage did not have much family support, so we're trying to be better for you. Warming up to a man and a woman living together has been a process, and we're still not there yet," She said mainly to her family as she approached them. My breath hitched as a hand rose in the air, but when it slowly came down, she as stroking both her childrens' heads with warm palms.

A rush of soft emotions swept through my body.

As she turned towards me, my heartbeat raced. It made sense why she was affectionate with those two, they were her own... her family.

"...but that does not mean we care less about you." She said, slowly taking one of my hands in hers and caressing the backs of my palms with her frail wrinkled yet warm ones. "Aisa bilkul bhi nahi hai, aur na hi ho sakta hai. Tum paraaye ghar ki nahi ho." Her fingers tapped my chin gently, in the same way Nandini did upstairs.

And without a doubt, I realised how Abhi and Nandini became the people they are. Instead of being punished for backanswering and being out of their parents' control, they were given a safe space to express themselves and were understood and accepted for their opinions and thoughts – not because of them, but regardless of them. Unconditionally.

The lack of it was why Manik and I were the way we were. With improper role models, a perennial lack of love, and a dysfunctional group of friends, we raised ourselves to be the people we could be – to survive, not to thrive.

What Nandini and her family inherently had for each other, no amount of pleasing and complying with our parents' or society's wishes could bring us. Upbringings were indeed a stark differentiator in how we handled ourselves, and our emotions.

In the last seven years, I had the opportunity of escaping it, of knowing a life outside it. Manik didn't.

All the detachment and aloofness I first felt when I came downstairs instantly dissipated. Devastated for my innocent inner child that was starved of such genuine validation and comforting reassurance all her life, I yelped, failing to hold back my cry.

"Can I... can I hug you?" I asked impatiently, fearing a blow of rejection at the inappropriate request.

To my sheer surprise, her frail arms gently came around me, wary to not startle me. She clasped me close, rubbing me with the same love she showered on her children earlier. I hugged her as tightly as I could, shamelessly sobbing.

When we parted after a long while, it was only after I had regained some sanity. Void of tears herself, she brushed my cheek tenderly out of compassion. "At our age, we have seen more of the world, which also means we are expected to be responsible and accountable for things our children have not thought about. Bas... issliye hume chinta hoti hai,"

Uncle took a few steps towards us meekly, sensing there was more to the picture than I had projected but feeling awkward about witnessing a sobbing woman. "But... but that is our journey, our generation gap that we have to work on. Your Chikkamma or I will never force those opinions on you. Any of you." He said, eyeing each of his children and then passing a soft glance at me, acknowledging me as one of their own. "Maaf karna, beta." His polite request was promptly accounted for.

His words were forgiven but not forgotten.

That was a step beyond anything I had ever taken before, and that was only because I had seen a life outside of hell. I had walked out of those mansion gates, which heard more of our screams and cries than our laughter and smiles.

Manik hadn't. The fragile, deeply-wounded boy was still stuck there.

I couldn't leave him stranded there, having known the way out to this side. The brighter side. 

⭒

I don't think 17 year old Manik's opinions are wrong, he has major control issues so inherently, Nandini's casual disregard for her own beliefs challenge his beliefs on losing control or being vulnerable. 

Who would have thought the 14 year old girl who complied to the rules and regulations her 'religious' family imposed on her, and the girl whose boyfriend thought she was spineless for caving into peer pressure, would take a stand for her best friend at a time of need?  

Her childhood self would be so proud of her. 

Opinions, feedback? Bring it all on! I want to hear everything.