-• i choose my dream •-

"Journalism."

Yuvraaj lowers the spoon in the plate, his hands reaching to interlace together, and he looks at me carefully, in a warning, as though he's giving me a chance to correct my words. But I said what I feel is right for me. And I'm not taking them back. No matter how many fights I'll have to fight to win this war, no matter how many faces I turn sour, no matter how many feet stand beside me and how many stand opposite me, I'm not giving up.

The atmosphere tenses, even Janet stops eating. Everyone looks between us, anticipating Yuvraaj's next move.

"Enroll yourself in Business Management and I'll treat this as a slip of your tongue." He states, an order, a command, an unspoken advise that I'm not supposed to go against his words, that I'm expected to accept his decision as a dream and call it my own. But dreams are not made, they're seen, from the eyes of mind, a far away reality everyone waits to grasp one day.

"I'm not asking anyone," I keep my voice firm, leveled, standing up for myself because I know no one else will. Not if I'm unable to do it for myself. "I'm telling you guys. I've made up my mind."

A gripping anxiety cripples me as silence fills the room. I wait for the screech of a chair, a slam of his hand, a mocking laugh, an annoyed snarl. I wait for an outburst. But nothing comes, and when I brave a glance at my eldest brother, the expression on his face stiffens me. He doesn't look angry or furious, he looks crestfallen, disappointed, hurt.

"Dreams, Tara, are expensive." He finally breaks his vow of silence. "And they cost you the most valuable thing. Time."

I inhale deeply, unable to refute his words.

"It cannot be bought, neither it can be sold. It can be either invested," he glances at Vivaan, then looks disappointedly at Yuvaan and Agastya, "Or wasted."

"Perspectives are subjective, Bhai. What's waste for you, can mean the world to someone else." I mumble, my eyes fleeting towards Yuvaan and Agastya, and I feel my heart clench at the look on their faces. I know how hard they try to impress our eldest brother. Every achievement they conquer, they always want to share it with him first, expecting him to smile with pride and pat their backs. But the end is always the same. He's never satisfied, because he never wanted it. "You believe the world runs on a trade between money and time. The more time you give, the more money you expect. It's not same for everyone. Some of us desire health," I smile at Vivaan, "Some of us desire peace," Yuvaan's gaze flickers to me, "and some of us want to feel less lost, more than complete, and sometimes, in control of our own life." Agastya sends me a painful smile. "While some of us expect to feel enough, loved, and accepted, even if it costs us our dreams." Arush clutches the spoon tightly between his fingers, looking down at his plate to avoid meeting my eyes. "And some of us," I look back at him, "want to feel capable, independent and understood."

"Choosing Journalism is you ruining your life."

"Or perhaps, choosing it." I reply.

"You're going to regret it." He states.

"At least I'll never blame you."

"Isn't that better than blaming yourself?" He tilts his head.

"I'd rather hate myself than hate someone I regard next to my father." I admit.

The icy look in his eyes slips, his onyx swirls appear glassy, like he's fighting a whirlwind internally, one that's dragging both him and me into the depths, and reminding him that no one's winning.

"You're not spending my money on your stupid dreams." He picks up the spoon, his voice hardening, deepening, like he has willed it to sound stern, emotionless, and cold. "The moment you're done toying around and wasting time, let me know."

Dad's hand reaches out to cup my fist on the table. It's his way to remind me that he'll support my dreams, my ambitions and while I appreciate his unsaid gesture, I can't accept it. My brothers paved their own way. One sold his artworks for less than their worth to afford the art supplies, other worked three manual jobs to so can get professional coaching. If they can do it, so can I. I'm not going to bask in the polished lifestyle of a princess and still preach I built a career on my own.

"That's okay," I say to him, and more to everyone else who, my guess is, are already deciding what ways they'll help me reduce my stress. "I've applied for student loans. And I'll also be working part time on weekends to carry out my personal expenses, like books, stationery and all that."

"You don't have to." Vivaan says. "I earn more than enough to support your dreams. Just focus on your studies."

"I want to be treated as my brothers were." I glance pointedly at Yuvaan and Agastya.

"We had to be treated that way because we were spoilt." Yuvaan cuts in, using his intimidating aura to silence me. "Everyone in this house knows how much you value money and time. We all saw that when you passed your boards with distinction even with the limited time and vast syllabus difference. Bhai trusts you with his money. And we know you deserve it." He says, referring to himself and Agastya.

"Exactly. You don't have to feel it's unfair to us." Agastya sides with him. "If anything, we'd prefer you use our money than work somewhere as a waitress or a sales girl for a four figure salary."

"But that's the first step at becoming independent." I protest. "I don't want your money." I narrow my eyes at Vivaan. "I want to try supporting myself. I don't want to be seen as a privileged rich heiress of a royal family with too many options and opportunities."

"Is Janet going to work too?" Vivaan asks rhetorically. Everyone already knows the answer. She's not. She chose to make a career in Biochemistry, a STEM major, just as her father wanted for her, something Yuvraaj expected from me. A mainstream profession, one that he'll fully support me in, and is even willing to spend millions for.

"No," she shakes her head timidly.

"Why, Janet? Don't you want to be independent like our Tara here?" Yuvaan remarks sarcastically.

I exhale a deep, exasperated sigh. Ask my brothers to prove a point and they'll flip the entire world upside down to convert the most hypothetical argument into an actual one.

"Considering she chose a STEM major, I'm sure she already has the independent part figured out. And probably, the practical one too." Yuvraaj comments, a jab at me. Since he can't change my mind, he's trying to humiliate me for having a choice that he doesn't approve of. Too bad, it's not enough for me to give up.

"Enough," Dad finally speaks up. "There's nothing wrong in going out and getting the real world experience -"

"Dad!" Vivaan interrupts, his protective brotherly instinct coming out at the wrong time, for the wrong reason.

"Let me finish, Vivaan." Dad requests politely.

Vivaan sighs and drops the napkin from his lap beside his plate, visibly aggravated as he leans back on the chair and regards me with eyes of sheer disappointment. I really thought he wouldn't be one to stand against me, but witnessing that fierce stance, I'm afraid he's not at all inclined to let me have my way this time.

"There's nothing wrong with doing a part-time job. I'm sure she'll let us know whenever she's struggling financially, or mentally. But working in the real world might teach her a thing or two that we aren't able to." Dad continues. "Let's be real, how long are you going to protect her-"

"Until last one of us stands." Agastya states.

"You cannot be with her 24/7."

"Why not?" Arush frowns.

"Because we're sent to this world to live our own lives," Dad replies. "Someday you'll meet someone nice, who'll want your attention as much you'll want theirs, you'll start a family," he looks around fondly at my brothers, "You'll have your own kids, and you'll have your own set of responsibilities. Tara is mine." He enforces. "And before I leave this world, I need her to learn how to live her own life. She cannot be sheltered for the rest of her life, boys. She cannot be in the mercy of your safety net to protect herself. She needs to wield the sword, go out there, and fight her own battles. And if need be, and if she asks for help, then you're allowed to stand beside her. Not until then."

"Very poetic, Dad," Yuvraaj smiles mockingly.

"Indeed." Yuvaan scoffs.

"But we certainly don't need you to teach us how to handle our responsibilities." Yuvraaj stares at him hard. "You failed at these six responsibilities," he gestures towards the six men, including himself, "We can't stand back and watch as you fail her too."

"We've a guest over." I remind him sternly.

Yuvraaj spares an awkward looking Janet a glance and grits his teeth before his chair screeches back and he walks out of the dining hall. A man who rarely loses his calm walks over the bridge of his patience the moment Dad is involved. I don't know what's more pathetic. Having my family dynamics exposed to my best friend, or the fact that my family is as dysfunctional as everyone else's in this world.

"Bhai is right," Yuvaan gets up too. "You're not doing a menial job to earn your living when you don't need to." And he storms off. He might be no match to Yuvraaj physically, but he's definitely no less than the thirty four-year-old man when it comes to intimidation and dominance.

"What job did you find?" Agastya asks me.

Hope revives in me. "Waitress. It's a cafe near our university-" he scowls, already demeaning my job title.

"Nope. I'm not sitting back and letting harmonal boys ogle at you as you take orders and wipe tables." Pushing his plate away, he gets up too. "Forget about the job and focus on your studies." Then he walks out of the dining hall, having said and sealed his words with a statement.

"For the first time, I'm with the boys." Vivaan shoots me a serious look, one that says he's not about to melt or be convinced, and that I shouldn't even try to change his mind. After he leaves, the twins finish off their dinner as quickly as possible and leave too.

I allow freedom to the tears in my eyes. "I had no idea support was more expensive than money." I sniffle.

Janet turns in her chair and takes my hand in hers, squeezing and caressing it gently.

"I'll try talking to Vivaan again," Dad squeezes my shoulder before he exits the dining hall as well.

"It's so pathetic how they try to hide the fact that I'm not allowed to do a job because I'm a girl by spouting the bullshit of how I value money and time." I snort, wiping my knuckles on my cheeks to brush off the tears. "They just don't trust me to protect myself."

"Are they wrong?" Janet speaks and I wish she hadn't because her words just makes me more mad.

"What do you mean, Janet?"

"Tara, you had to live away from your home because your life was threatened here. And it's not even been a day you returned that you're telling them you're going to work as a waitress in some cafe. Of course none of them was going to approve of your decision. If anything, I was shocked when your father sided with you." She explains. "There's a difference between being a normal woman and having people think you're unable to take care of yourself without a man and being a princess, a celebrity and having enemies on your back waiting for one chance to use you against your brothers. Of course, no woman is entirely safe on this planet, but people like you, who live in the eyes of public have higher chances of getting hurt than us."

"Janet, do you really think if I was a normal daughter of a normal family, my brothers wouldn't have reacted the same?" I ask her in disbelief.

"Maybe yes. But right now, given the current circumstances, this argument is in their favour more than yours. And you can't change that." She resumes finishing her dinner, which has now gone cold.

We depart to our rooms post dinner. In order to channel my attention somewhere else than the arguments that happened during dinner, I distract myself by watching reruns of sitcoms on my laptop.

Sharp at 00, when I know the hallways lights have flickered off, I slam the laptop shut and grab my card key from the table before exiting the room. With the sneakiness of a spy from a third grade detective movie, I walk downstairs and to the room holding my thoughts hostage for the last two and half years. There are ninety-nine percent chances he isn't here, and that he might not even come, but I'm too optimistic to trust that remaining one percent because I'm desperate and have questions.

The room is empty. Everything inside is doused in darkness, shadowing their original color, their real appearance, like it always does for him.

I sit on the edge of the bed, and memories hit me like a brick.

"Count to three with me, Princess."

I never thought I'd be pinned to the door for anything but kiss. The sixteen year old me sure had some wild fantasies.

"Fiesty."

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes when he said that, along with something dangerous. Like he hated that he liked my attitude so much.

"Don't betray me."

The audacity of him to expect loyalty from me.

"Princess, I'm a sword. And if you hold me so fucking confidently, I'd be tempted to taste blood for you."

I'm tempted to do a lot more than just hold you, alright.

I wait patiently, and when it starts to wear off, I wait holding the end of it desperately. He doesn't come. Expected. What was I thinking? That once he knows I'm back to India, he'll rush to me at the drop of a hat?

But still, everytime the wind blows outside and rattles the window, my stomach twists thinking it's him.

I just need to see him one last time. Maybe fuck him out of my system if he allows. I need a valid reason to forget him. I need to see his masked face, call his fake name, and reinforce it in my mind why it's impossible for us to be we and why he doesn't deserve the time of my day.

But he doesn't come.

I wait there until five in the morning but he doesn't come.

So I head back to my room and get ready for my morning run with Agastya. It brings back memories that I adore and buries the thoughts of certain someone that I hate. I missed this. The burn of my muscles, the heaviness of my feet as they beg for a pause, the sweat breaking over my body, giving me a good reason to feel hot, flushed and frustrated.

"Wear this," Agastya offers me his jacket, his eyes straying towards the gardeners working in the garden next to the football field.

"Shut up. I'm not about to suffocate." I remove the ear buds and bend over, planting my hands on my knees as I pant softly.

"Did you have to wear shorts so low?" He tosses the jacket around my waist and yanks me close with the sleeves, tying them into a knot over my bare stomach before nodding in satisfaction.

I shake my head at his hypocrisy. I don't think this would be his response if he saw someone else wearing these kind of clothes.

"Isn't it funny, that when it comes to their sisters, wives, girlfriends, mothers, men don't leave a second to put other men down. I'm a man, and I know what men think when they see a woman in certain clothes, wearing a certain color of lipstick and behaving the certain way. But when it's a woman calling them out, you go like, not all men. Stop generalising." I point out.

Agastya rolls his eyes. "If you're done, let's go."

I sigh and follow him back to the palace.

When the night falls and clock hand strikes twelve, I go back to the room and wait for him. I don't think I've ever acted so desperate before. But I need a closure, I need something to condemn him, call him unworthy and never look back. And I also need to know the extent of his effect on me. Whether I still feel something for him or it's just his memories deluding me into thinking so.

He doesn't come.

Of course, he doesn't.

But that's not enough for me to give up, it's also not enough to stop me from thinking about him. I try to busy myself exploring the university website, filling the forms for all extracurricular activities and admitting myself to different clubs. I also call the cafe owner where I talked about my job and he confirms my schedule over a text message. I have two hours every Thursday and Friday after University since I have off lectures on those days, and half days on weekends. The pay is low, and it cannot afford me one lipstick of the brand I prefer, but for a normal teenager, it's more than enough to get through everyday life.

Dinner is a strained event. Nobody speaks, and the most unfortunate thing being, it's the only time we all come together as a family.

That night I fall asleep in the room and nearly panic when I wake up noticing I only have fifteen minutes to go for my morning run. I scramble out of the room and head upstairs, brushing my teeth and washing my face before putting on my jogging outfit. Then I meet Agastya on the ground floor and we go for the run.

Janet keeps me distracted for the rest of the day. But my hands itch to touch my mobile, check for messages, and see if I've any calls that I failed to hear even though I checked thrice to make sure the phone is not on silente mode.

Desperation is driven by two emotions. Fear and greed. I don't know which fuels mine, but I do know the longer I wait, the more agitated I grow, and the more this crazy desperation claws at my insides.

I go for run twice that day. And I don't stop until I collapse on my knees. Juyi helps me back to my room and massages my legs, her eyes flickering to me more than once in worry.

"He's not coming. You better accept it." Janet says once Juyi has left. She closes the door and walks in, sitting next to my feet.

"I want two men." I finally confess. And it feels like a sin, like I'm paving my own way to hell.

"What?"

"You heard me." I state. "I'm attracted to two men. And I want to make myself believe that I'm just being stupid. I want to see them again and feel nothing."

"And if it doesn't go your way?"

"Then I know which one to ignore, or if to ignore both."

Janet shakes her head. "I know what you need to do. You need to go out, date other men, and forget about these assholes. You need to live a normal life. One that doesn't revolve around mysteries or family rivalry."

I drag a hand down my face.

"Your brother is taking Ayush to the hospital tomorrow. He's taking medicine and is interested to know how things work at the hospital. Vivaan offered us to come along. Do you want to?" She places a hand on my knee.

I nod softly.

She pats it and gets up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't go there tonight. Don't let him win."

I nod again.

And fortunately, abide by it.

I stay in my room, hog on salted popcorn and watch Kdramas and then fall asleep somewhere in the middle of night.

Next day we're taken to the hospital and the first thought that comes to my mind upon seeing the wide glass building is the third floor. I glance at the floor numbers on the panel, remembering how they omitted the T. Does that mean it has a private elevator? Where is it?

Did they take Meera to the third floor? But she had a scholarship. She was going to Canada. Then why was she brought here in an ambulance? Did she ever go back?

"Just tell me if she's okay."

"I won't sugarcoat things for you. She's not. She never was. And you need to stop thinking about her."

How can I stop thinking about a living, breathing person? While I never had power to check whether she was okay or not, I can at least pray and hope she was.

What bad things happen on the third floor that they keep it so secretive? And why does no one ever speaks about it?

"Tara," I flinch and look up from the floor.

"Ayush and I are going down to the cafeteria to get something to eat for us. Do you want something? Or do you want to tag along?"

I look past her at Vivaan who's preparing to leave for his surgery. I don't want to stay alone here, but then Ayush subtly shakes his head at me, begging me to reject her offer. So I sigh in defeat.

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." They both leave.

"I'll be back before twelve. Don't wander alone." Vivaan instructs sternly before he exits the office. His unattached, cold tone makes my heart squeeze in pain. I hate him this way towards me.

I sit in the office for more than an hour. But no one returns, neither Ayush and Janet, nor my brother or dad. Impatience and boredom drives me nuts. Having enough of lounging around doing nothing, I get up and stroll out of the office.

I buy myself a coke from the vending machine and relax in the seating area as I watch the TV. It speaks more Hindi than I can understand. Grabbing myself another coke, I sit back down and sip on it. I manage to drink five more, so it's no surprise when the pressure on my bladder increases.

Throwing all the empty cans into the trash, I quickly find a washroom and release myself of the crushing pressure.

On my way to Vivaan's office, a random door opens and someone drags me inside the dark. My first instinct is to scream and fight back, but a hand cups my mouth and the light brown eyes, visible from the ray of light sneaking in through the blinds peer down at me, stopping me from putting up anymore fight.

Upon realising I'm not going to shout or cry for help, the hand slowly slides lower, drawing a line down the slope of my neck, before it slips to explore my shoulders and collarbones. And that one action is enough to tell me who it is, without needing to see their whole face.

His breathing elevates, and I hear it, feel it, so close to my own, meshing them together that it becomes difficult to differentiate which belonged to me, and which was his own. Not that either of us cared. Too intoxicated by the feel of each other, drunk on the proximity that held us close, finding individuality of our existence was the last thing on our mind.

I feel the rise and sink of his chest under my palm, then he slowly inches closer, treading the fine line between right and wrong, before he accepts his defeat and lowers his head in the nook of my neck. I suck in a sharp, shuddering breath, one that trembles me from the core, along with my soul.

"It's been a long wait, isn't it?" He whispers, his lips barely touching my skin, but I feel his words kiss it, taste it, own it.

God, I'm losing a battle I haven't even fought yet.

Yes, it's been a long long long wait!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.