-• fresh start •-

"Should I slice you some fruits?" I offer.

Agastya shakes his head. "How long are they keeping me here?"

Before I can answer, the door opens, Vivaan walks in. "You put a strain on your tendon. The doctor did tell you to take a complete rest for the next three weeks when you were discharged."

Agastya falls silent, reverting to his quiet self. He rarely speaks. But I can see there's some development after that night on the bridge. He's hopeful. Hopeful of a better tomorrow.

"We're thinking to put you up for physical therapy next week. It'll help your shoulder return to its normal functioning." Vivaan continues. "There's a chance you might get to play-"

"How much?" Agastya meets his eyes.

"How- how much what?" Vivaan stutters, glancing towards me nervously. I sigh.

We're not used to this side of Agastya. It's like after accident, the old Agastya died, and someone new came back to us in his body.

"The chances?"

"Oh," Vivaan clears his throat and looks down at his file. "It's - the chances are slim, but -"

"Don't give me hope." Agastya avers curtly. "Will I be able to play? Maybe not internationally, I'm not even hoping for national tournaments. Just- " he sucks a deep breath, his chin trembles. My heart leaps forward and I lean in, holding his trembling hand in mine. "Just play." He shudders.

Vivaan's eyes fill up with unshed tears. He looks away. I press my lips together to not break down in tears.

"Bhai?" Agastya calls out desperately.

"Let's hope for a miracle." He whispers and walks out of the room. The door closes shut. Agastya's head hangs low. He removes his hand from mine.

"I need to be alone."

He told Arush the same yesterday. But then an hour passes, and he looks for someone again. As if he's torn between consoling himself and condemning himself. Like he's clinging to the edge of empty depths, unable to let go, but tired of holding on.

"Just know that I'm simply a call away." I tell him.

He shifts down to lie and pulls the cover over his head. I stop myself from telling him to be careful of his IV attached hand. Releasing a deep, tired breath, I get off the stool and leave the room, closing the door gently behind me. Turning around, I take a peek through the square window on the door, and sigh seeing his body shake violently underneath the thin duvet. I touch the image of him through the glass, stroke a finger gently, wishing his soul finds the peace it is so desperately seeking.

I want him to never forget he's not alone. Even when he wants to be alone, I hope in the back of his mind, he's aware of the people waiting to hear him out, support him in every step he takes, loving him in every bittersweet moment of his life.

I sit in the waiting area. I know he'll be afraid to be alone again. I know he'll ask for someone again. Arush was here the whole day yesterday. Today it's me. Tomorrow it'll be Ayush. We're taking turns to keep him company.

After mom died, I never thought I'd step inside a hospital ever again. Even if I do, I hoped it wouldn't be for long. It's a strange way to live. You feel restless the moment you step out of here and into your daily life, knowing you've left behind a part of yourself in someone's care, and have no idea when will be the last time you return to take it back home, or whether you'll lose it forever.

I feel, hospitals are more miserable than graveyards.

Like a bridge that's slowly corroding, a boat that's slowly sinking, a glacier that's slowly sliding closer. The end, of an ending.

"Soda?"

I blink.

Shourya nods down at the drink in his hand.

I sigh and accept it.

He sits next to me.

He's out of his formal dressing today. Black joggers, a white tshirt and black denim jacket. His dark hair as usual styled with gel. I look at him, and he smiles, the tiny dimple beneath the left corner of his lips shows.

"How are you feeling?"

I open the can, take a sip, and hold it to my lap. "Good."

He breaths out a sigh. "Taranya, I'm sorry." I look at him in surprise. Our eyes meet. "The offer I made, I wouldn't say I was not in right state of my mind, because I was sincere." I look ahead. "But I admit it was wrong. I hope you don't hold it against me. Can we start fresh?"

My eyes shift back to him.

Fresh as in?

Forget everything and move on? Start as strangers? Friends? Future peers? Family acquaintances? We've too much history, complicated history, to just slide it under the carpet and start fresh.

"Did you tell him to come and meet me?" I question instead.

I've never been so confused about my feelings for someone as much as I'm about Shourya. I owe him so much, he saved my life, my brother's life, maybe he was the one to tell Rudra to meet me one last time despite his feelings towards me, but still, he flirted with me while being committed, made that disgusting offer to me, kissed me without my consent, disregarded my feelings and asked me to marry him. There are things he did right and there are things he did wrong. I can't hate him, but I cannot treat him like nothing happened between us. I intend to stay neutral. However, his efforts to redeem himself, make things go normal between us, hinders my plans.

"Kind of?" He shrugs.

I bite the inside of my lower lip. He suddenly smiles, amused. "What?"

"That habit," he points to my lips. I quickly release it. "You picked it up from your father."

"You're creepy." I narrow my eyes.

He snorts. "I observe."

"Which is creepy." I state.

"No, it's not. It's informative. I learn people. The most complex life form on this planet."

"After that statement, all that's remained is crazy noodle hair and round glasses to turn you into a maniac scientist." I shudder dramatically.

He laughs. "You should be even more careful now."

"Why is that?" I raise a brow.

"I might make you my test subject." He smirks.

"Is this your fresh start? Flirting with me?" I deadpan.

"Oh, did we already start fresh?" He sits straight and puts the can on the chair next to him. "Hi, I'm Shourya Singh Rajawat." His outstretched hand waits for me.

I look front, cross my legs, and take a sip of the soda to hide my own smile. It's strange how this man makes me comfortable around him so easily. After whatever happened, I thought I'd run miles to stay off his radar. But here we are, in this miserable hospital, drinking sodas and cracking jokes.

He pulls back his hand, beat down by my ignorance, but that's not enough to crush his spirits. He picks up his soda, clinks it with mine, raises it as a toast, "To the new beginning," and takes a sip, a smile playing on his lips. "How's Agastya?"

"How do you think?" I ask rhetorically.

"I know what happened at the bridge two days ago." He brings up. "That must have shocked you."

I think about the time when I saw Vivaan the same way, standing at the heights because life had been stomping on their feet. Is it in my fate? To watch my loved ones in the face of death. Or is it death, that loves taking away from me? Or is it me? Who can't keep people around herself?

"It's like I'm used to it now."

"And how does that make you feel?"

I nibble on the inside of my lip. Tears sting at the corner of my eyes. "Terrified. Haunted. Powerless."

"How come we've have different answers to the same question?" My head turns, our eyes collide. There's warmth in his gaze that was previously missing. As if someone suddenly casted a calming spell in the air. His presence feels comforting enough to let down my walls and sleep. Sleep for eternity. Sleep until my soul is rejuvenated. "How come my answer is exactly opposite of yours?" I frown. "When we get used to something," he takes the empty can from my hand, holds them together, and sends me a small smile. "We get tougher, stronger, unbreakable." He reaches out to me, I flinch away. He chuckles and pulls off a lint from my open locks. "I was there that night." My brows pull together in confusion. "It must take tremendous strength to save a falling star."

I clench my jaw as a mirage of heavy emotions engulfs me from within.

"Even with the sun down, the sky glowed brightest that night, enough to light up an entire universe." He smiles. A smile that shines in his light brown eyes. Then he gets up and blinks at me slowly, as if he's soothing me without a touch, and walks away.

I watch his retreating back.

I didn't know Shourya is so wise.

I had no idea he was hiding this side within himself.

He's so much better when he doesn't let his attitude make the decisions.

"Excuse me?" I startle hearing the nurse so close to me. "Your brother is asking for you."

I nod and quickly head inside the room.

Agastya is sitting up in his bed, watching the tv. He looks at me when I enter the room. I throw him a bright smile. He forces one back at me. I don't let it demotivate me.

"When we get used to something, we get tougher, stronger, unbreakable."

It might not be easy to believe his words, but I want to. And I will.

"Should I slice some fruits for you now?"

He nods.

I beam and rush to the side of the bed. Sitting down, I take out the fruits from the basket and put them on the plate, carrying it to the bathroom to wash them under the tap. I return to his side, carefully cut the fruits for him, make different shapes and crafts of them, and during my artistic ministrations, I end up making the duck look like a penis. Agastya bursts out laughing. I laugh too and shove it in my mouth. He gasps, hits me upside down on the back of my head, and scolds me to never do that.

I wink at him. "You know, I'm getting married one day."

"No one's marrying my short stuff."

"Arey, so what? Are you going to keep me unmarried for the rest of my life?" I ask in disbelief and feed him a slice of orange. He nods.

"So you don't want little Taras and little whoever I make them with running around, calling you Uncle Agastya! Uncle Agastya! Uncle Agastya!" I dumb down my voice to make it sound childlike.

He looks horrified. "Tara! You're never making little yous. One you is enough. We don't want miniature versions of you!"

"But imagine it's a boy! And he's just like you!" I say, all hyped up. Faking excitement just so the light in his eyes doesn't dim.

"That I can imagine," he nods with a small smile. "God, he'd be so cute." I nod. "Just like you!" He pinches my nose between his first two fingers.

"He better be your favourite nephew!" I warn.

"Done, deal! You better make me his Godfather."

I hold out my hand to shake his. He latches it firmly. We seal the deal.

"I'll teach him all the boys stuff. I'll teach him baseball -" and his smile drops, the darkness consumes his eyes, his face grows sombre. "I can't teach him baseball, Tara. I can't teach him baseball." His eyes tear up. He looks at me brokenly.

I swallow the heavy wave of emotions washing over me.

"I can't teach him baseball." He repeats. "Baseball - I- I can't teach him baseball, Tara. My baseball, Tara. My life. My dreams. My- they- they sent someone else in my place. Do you know? They sent someone else. I was replaced. Just like that." He gasps for breaths.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, deep breaths. Deep breaths." I put the plate away and lean in, rubbing a hand on his back, up and down, up and down, until he starts to breath normally.

"I'm sorry," he sobs in the cup of his hands. I gently straighten the IV tube. "God, I'm so sorry. I keep bringing it up. I'm sorry." His shoulders vibrate.

I get up and bend over to hug him loosely. "Never be sorry for feeling all the emotions within you. Never be sorry for acknowledging them. Never be sorry for accepting them." I pull away and cup his cheeks. "And never be sorry for expressing them. Okay?" He holds the back of my palms, squeezes them softly. I press a kiss on his forehead and sit back down, dropping my hands to his lap. I smile up at him. He smiles back at me through his tears.

Exhausted.

That's what I feel when I come back from the hospital.

Or that's what I realise I've been feeling lately when I step into the silence of my room.

It's ten pm.

And all I want to do is sleep.

So I do that.

My body shuts down, but my mind doesn't.

I'm in the car.

I'm driving.

Everyone's singing to the lyrics booming from the speakers.

It's Shakira's Hips Don't Lie.

I'm laughing with the people who pour life into me. I'm happy. I'm consumed with it. To the brim, until the hilt, the feeling is exhilarating.

When the hook line comes, Agastya lifts his ass off the seat, and shakes it to the beats. We holler. I slap him on the arm and he settles down, laughing himself, his whole body vibrating with energy. I don't think I have seen him so much happier before. He's literally glowing.

I stop at the red light.

Janet says, "Roads are empty."

"We should speed up!" Arush suggests.

"We should go zoooom!" Agastya snaps a hand forward like a car racing down.

"We're not doing anything like that. We're driving within speed limit." I tell them, and watch as two faces pout.

"You're such a boomer." He punches me lightly on the arm.

"Yeah, you must be happy you're finally getting rid of me." I sneak a teasing glance at him.

He snorts. "You don't sound happy. Should I not go?"

"No." I shake my head. "Stay."

"Okay, I will." He declares. "Arush, call my coach, tell him to cancel my tickets. I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying beside my short stuff."

I giggle and press on the accelerator when the signal turns green. "You love me that much?" I look at him, grin, the stretch of my lips as wide as the crescent in the sky.

"I love you the most!" He smiles wide, and then it suddenly drops. His eyes grow large in shock, fear, terror. "Tara!" I look to my side, and before I can register what's happening, I feel something slam on top of me, engulfing me from the disaster outside, before it's chaos of screams, lights, shattered glasses and screeching tires.

The breath is knocked out of me. As if I'm punched in the chest.

I wake up gasping for air.

Tears stream down my eyes.

It was the memories. Memories that have now transformed into my worst nightmares.

"Princess?" My head whips to the left. Rudra puts the pen stand down and rushes to me, folding his leg on the bed as he reaches out to pull me in his arms. I lock mine around his waist, my face buried in his chest. I tell myself what I told Agastya this afternoon. In and out. In and out. In and out. "It's fine. It was just a nightmare. Everything's fine. I'm here." I nod, my arms tighten. I can't let go of him yet. I need him close. Something strong to lean on, something strong to hide in.

When I'm calmed down, I scoot back and let him settle comfortably on the bed. I bury myself back in the cavern of his strong arms.

"Was it a nightmare?"

I hum. "Of memories. Like a flashback."

He places a hand on the crown of my head, and runs it down my hair. "I'm here."

"I know." I nod, inhale his comforting smell and reach to hold his hand in mine. "When did you start wearing gloves?" I frown up at him.

His ebony eyes stare at me for a second longer. I stare back. They're stars. The darkest stars of the darkest night that glow the brightest in my sky. "I'm always cold."

"I don't mind."

He lowers his gaze. "Everyone craves warmth."

"It depends." He lifts his head, raises a brow. "People are like seasons. I'm summer. Sometimes it gets so hot, like a boiling lava, it's suffocating. I appreciate your cold."

"So, I'm winter?"

I nod.

He pulls me on his lap and makes me straddle him. I just know I'm blushing mad red right now. "No wonder I melt at your one touch."

"Are you flirting with me, Mystery Man?" I toss my arms around his neck.

"Was it not clear? Should I be more precise?" His hand presses down my lower back. I'm pulled closer. I lean in, remove his cap and rest my forehead against his. My eyes fall close, his masks comes down and our lips meet. I sigh. His touch, despite being cold like ice, is soothing to my burning soul. Our mouths open, tongues collide, and then it's screaming silence in my head. A juxtaposition of feelings soar through my veins, twisting and knotting my senses, until I start feeling heady, dizzy and it's only his hands keeping me together.

He pulls away when the lack of oxygen suffocates our lungs. This kind of breathlessness is beautiful. It's destructive but it's the most alive I've ever been. He kisses down the slope of my neck. I bring the cascade of my hair to one side, tilting my head to the left, threading my empty hand through his hair, encouraging him to keep going, to keep doing whatever he wants to do with me.

"God, I need to stop." His forehead drops to my cleavage. "I need to stop before we cross the line." The raspy tone does things to my core. I'm fluttering all over. Like a fucking butterfly. A tingling sensation overcomes me and I drag a deep breath to compose myself.

He pulls away and I give him a second to pull his mask back up before I open my eyes.

"What are you doing to me?" He fists my hair in his hand, yanks my face closer.

"Ruining you." I whisper, my eyes holding his dark ones confidently.

"Why?" He cups my jaw.

"Because you can't be owned in pieces."

"And if someone does try to own me?"

"Doesn't matter. You wouldn't ever be whole again." I shrug, lean back.

"Is that so?" He runs a hand down my throat, stops at my breasts.

I nod. "I'll keep the most precious pieces of you with me."

"You sexy little thing," he growls and tugs me closer. I fall into him with a giggle. My eyes flutter close, knowing what's coming next and he doesn't disappoint.

Our lips fight a war we're intended to lose.

I told you, their chemistry is no fucking joke.

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