-• i promise •-

Vivaan

"I don't understand you." Rohit shakes his head as he sets two cups of coffee on the table and occupies the chair across from me. "You avoided going home by taking night duties and now you're wondering why your sister wants some space?"

I sigh and lean back. "Because it's not like her, Rohit. She doesn't run away from problems. That's one thing I admire about her. And yesterday, I don't know how to put it, but she felt very far to me, emotionally. I get it she is upset with us, we did things that'd hurt her. But she's one of those who'd confront you, get to the root of it, not leave unceremoniously."

Rohit rolls his eyes. "Vivaan, that's a teenager you're talking about. You're a thirty-two-year old man, if you can run away from problems, spare me for this, but you're being very selfish for wondering how could she do the same. Do you know how ungrateful you sound right now? In blunt words, you're saying that it's okay for you guys to shut out the world, but whenever you need her, she must be there for you. And that's not like you, Vivaan. I don't know about your brothers, but I know my friend, and he's isn't this insensitive. In fact, he's the most empathetic, understanding and emotional man I've met."

I rub a hand over my face. "Fine, I get it. But tell me you won't react the same if your sister comes up to you and says she wants to work as a waitress in some cheap cafe!?" I ask in disbelief. "She's a princess, in literal terms. And she wants to work there? Does that make sense?"

"I didn't see you complaining when your brother was working three manual jobs for his coaching fees. In fact, you sounded proud as you boasted how he's learning the value of money, and this phase will stay with him as a great life lesson." He reminds me.

I swallow, clear my throat and avoid defending myself by taking a sip of the coffee. I know I'm being the biggest hypocrite out there when it comes to Taranya. But the thought of her working as a waitress in some run down cafe is enough to set me off. That's my sister, for God's sake. Not only is her privacy at stake, but I can't imagine the girl I can buy the world for wiping tables and taking orders.

"Vivaan," he places a hand on my wrist. I look at him. "Let her breath, man. She can't be around you seven men for the rest of her life. She must want to experience the world, explore everything the life has to offer. She was brought up in a very different environment, in a certain lifestyle that doesn't match our deep rooted thought process. Going out with boys, having fun, making boyfriends, it's not frowned upon there. And yet the girl sustained here, accepted the lifestyle you imposed on her, accepted you guys with an open heart. The least you can do is try to understand her?"

I interlace my fingers and brace the table with my elbows, resting my forehead on the knuckles. "She sounded hurt."

"I know. It's the third time you're telling me." He sighs.

I drop the hands and look down at the coffee that's now gone cold. I'm not a man of metaphors but somehow I can relate with the state of this coffee. We were force driven, raging men ready to tear down the world if it tried to hurt us again, like a scorching hot coffee spilling all over the surface, surging and uncontrollable, and then came Taranya, lowering the flame of anger we always flared upon, settling us back into the confines, calming us enough to the point we can experience the world and the world can experience us. But then things changed after accident. Her presence didn't let us stay angry at the world, at life, but the pain stuck, the feeling of unfairness, the questions and what ifs came back, making us go cold, like the forgotten cup of coffee on a lonely counter.

"We're like this coffee," I lift the styrofoam cup. "Cold, untouched and forgotten."

"I heard you wanted to be a poet?"

"Yeah," I smile.

Did he recognise my talent just from hearing a few words from me?

"I'm glad you sticked to becoming doctor." He nods.

The smile on my face drops.

He chuckles. "I'm sorry, but what was that?"

"It sounded better in my head." I defend.

He looks down at his coffee cup, lifts it and swirls it gently. "This you?" He cocks a brow at me. "That must be your eldest brother?" He juts his chin towards the tray a waiter carried past our table. I steal a glance and see an hot americano ready to be served.

"One pumpkin spice latte, please." Someone says at the counter.

"Oh that's definitely Agastya!" Rohit claims.

"Shut up!" I snap.

"What do you think Yuvaan is?" He says, following me as I get up to leave.

"Fuck off."

"Iced americano!" He exclaims.

"I said fuck off." I take the escalator to first floor. He climbs the stair behind me.

"The twins are definitely Caramel Mocha. The older is slightly salted though." The fucker continues. I breathe out exasperatedly and stride towards the elevator, determined to leave him behind. But he jogs after me, laughing like a drain.

"Mr. Coffee, stop, let me cover you, you're gonna get colder!" He opens his white coat and hugs me from behind. I throw him off, punching for the second floor. The doors fall close and the elevator ascends. "Are you sweet in taste or bitter?" He shoves me on the shoulder with his. I stumble aside. "Oh no, meri coffee gir gayi! (Oh no, my coffee spilled!)" He helps me back to my feet.

"Will you stop!?" I groan in frustration.

"You're boiling," he says with a blank face, and when I don't react, bursts out laughing. "Oh, is that steam?" He wipes the sweat on my forehead with his handkerchief.

I scoff out a breath through my mouth.

"Tell me, na," he hooks his arm around mine, "Are you sweet in taste or bitter?"

"Your sense of humour is shit." I state.

"Tell me your taste." He demands just as the doors open. "How do you taste? Sweet or bitter!?" My eyes meet familiar obsidian ones and I go ashen white. Zoya looks at both of us startled, collects her dropped jaw and clears her throat.

I remove my arm from Rohit's. He stands straight too.

"It's - it's not what it- he was talking about-"

"It's - it's absolutely fine!" She cuts me off aloud. I flinch. Her posture softens. "I- I don't need to know. I- I'll take another elevator." She points her thumb to her right, appearing flustered and awkward on our behalf. "Please continue," she encourages softly before disappearing from my sight at the speed of light.

"What the hell, dude!?" I look at Rohit incredulously.

"What?"

"What?" My eyes grow wide. "That's my brother's secretary! And now she thinks I'm gay."

He frowns. "Why would she think you're gay?"

"You can't be serious!" I throw my hands in the air.

It takes him a minute, but the realisation dawns on his face. He gasps and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Shit, without context it sounded so....." He looks at me panicked.

"Exactly!" I slip my hand between the closing doors and they reopen. "You're so fucking dumb! How did you become a surgeon?" I grumble and stalk towards my office.

"Wait, does that mean she thinks of us as a couple?" He follows me hastily.

"I wouldn't blame her." I open the door to my office and sit behind the desk. He plops down on the chair across from me.

"You said she's your brother's secretary?"

I nod, sending a few files to my mail so I can study them home and shut down the computer.

"Shouldn't you clear it with her?" He leans in looking worried. "What if she spreads rumours about us?"

"Like what?" I glance at him.

"Like, like," he blinks. "Like she saw Prince Vivaan Chauhan getting steamy with his colleague in an elevator?" He conjures up the headline, then gasps in horror and shakes his head. "No! I've a girlfriend! I can't be your rumoured boyfriend." He covers his chest.

"I'd never take you as my boyfriend." I snort, give him a look, "A fling, perhaps?"

"Hey!" He snaps sounding offended. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I be more than a fling?"

I shrug. "You just look like a wham, bam, bye bye ma'am types."

He looks down at himself, a frown covers his face. I hold back an amused smile.

Rohit and I've known each other from the University days. We were in the same year, had the same friend group, often hung out together. After we started our practice, the friend group dispersed but we ended up choosing to stay in Mankind Medicare at the general surgery department. We didn't really think we'd become friends but accidents happen.

"Is that why Saniya only calls me for sex?"

"I didn't need to know that." I scrunch my nose in disgust and get up to leave. "C'mon now, I need to leave early today."

"Do I really look like one night stand types?" He gets up too, following me out of the office, lost in his own world. "I need to call Sania." He takes out his phone.

"For sex?" I tease.

"Yes-" he nods, then shakes his head. "Shut up!"

I chuckle and pat him on the back. "Bye, have a great night, Mr. Fling!" I walk backwards, waving at him. He throws me a middle finger. "Busy tonight, how about tomorrow?" I offer.

"Fuck off!" He growls.

I laugh and turn around, walking to the elevator.

I reach home before eight and yet it's doused in complete silence. I sigh regrettably. We only miss the light after darkness starts becoming unbearable. She was trying so hard, helping Agastya, bringing Yuvaan out of his room more often, attempting to talk to me, doing her best to lighten up the dinner moments. It's the only time everyone in this family comes together and we collectively treated it as a liability.

I'm more surprised by the fact that Dad got angry on her. He had no reason to get frustrated. Nothing happened between them for him to react that way. If anything, ever since the accident, he interacted the least with anyone in this household. We were used to it. But Taranya wasn't. She considers him our father in every sense, so for him to shout at her sounds unreasonable.

Should I talk to him?

He has been behaving strange lately.

Any other day, I'd have ignored it. I don't really care, if I'm being honest. But I know it must bother Tara, and I want everyone to be in their best state of mind Friday night. She's willing to talk to us and I know she prioritises Dad the most among us. So if he acts distant, she'll get even more upset.

With that thoughts in mind, I head to our father's room. He opens the door after I knock twice.

It's the first time in months I'm seeing him up close, and take notice of the dark bags under his eyes. He looks haggard.

"Vivaan?" His tone sounds suprised, like he wasn't expecting me here.

"Are you free?" I ask softly.

He clears his throat and steps aside to let me in. I walk inside the room, settling on the side of the bed as he closes the door and sits in front of me on the sofa chair. "What's wrong?"

"Are you stressed because of work?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, why would you ask that?"

I bite on the inside of my cheek, deciding to be blunt. "Look Dad, I don't know what happened, but your outburst ruined it. Had you not shouted at her, she wouldn't have talked about wanting space and time." I sigh. "Why would you do that?"

"I had reasons." He whispers.

"Yeah, well, keep them to yourself." I scoff. "I've always taken your side, Dad, but when it comes to Taranya, I'm sorry but I won't tolerate your behaviour. Fine, you couldn't be a good father to us, we get it, we've made amends with it. But Taranya thinks differently of you. She thinks there's still hope for us. And while the thought is in vain, I don't want her to feel so are her attempts."

"I wanted to be a good father though." He mumbles staring at the floor. "I wanted to be the best father." He looks at me brokenly. "Nobody let me."

I look away from the only pair of onyx eyes that express emotions in this household. I used to sympathise. But after sometime, I grew tired of trying to understand them.

"I-" he starts coughing, "excuse me," getting up, he strides towards the bathroom.

The door slams close.

I click my tongue in irritation. Something has been poking at my leg from the moment I sat down. Moving my leg, I see a corner of some paper peeking out from underneath the bed. I stand halfway and lift the bed, intending to push the papers inside when I read something strange.

I take them out and read through the stapled documents with a startling realisation.

Three words stand out. Three words that tilt my world from its axis and sends it spiralling out of control.

Diagnosis: Multiple myeloma

The door to the bathroom opens. Dad steps out wiping his mouth with a handtowel. "Sorry, I've been feeling under the weather lately-" he looks up, notices the documents in my hands and freezes in his place.

"Can- cancer?" The word stumbles out of my mouth. It echos in my head and my knees grow weak. I grab the bed rest to hold myself up. "Whe- when? How?" I let out a shaky breath. "When did you find out?" I ask.

"The day Tara was discharged. Agastya had lost a lot of blood, so I decided to give mine. Dr. Ravi said something looks off. We had some extended tests done and found out it's multiple myeloma." He whispers. "It's too far gone to treat now."

I've done this. I've done this for times I can't remember. I've had these conversations with my patients, gentled my tone as much as I can, a naive way to soothe them, because now I realise what a fucking fool I was. Whether you scream this or you whisper this, it's going to destroy your world and all you can do is watch it fall apart.

"Life is so unfair." His whispers. "I just got my daughter, hell, I just got my sons, and look at my fate," he smiles mirthlessly, "I don't have much time."

No.

No. No. No. No.

I refuse to believe this is happening. It's a nightmare. This day hasn't even started yet. I haven't woken up. I'm in my room. I didn't even meet Dad today. It's all happening in my head. A sick, painful reminder that we took our father for granted, and now heavens are punishing us.

"Okay, stop, you're lying." I throw the papers on the bed. "This is not true, right? You're punishing us, right? You want us to realise we were bad sons? I know you're faking this. You're lying." Fresh tears blurs my sight. "Tell me you're lying." He steps closer. I stumble back. "No!" It'll become real if he touches me. I'll realise I'm not sleeping, that this is not a nightmare. I'm not strong enough to face the reality. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me you're lying. Tell me you're lying." I chant like a mantra until my knees give in and I collapse to the floor, breaking out in loud, heavy, terror driven sobs that make my body tremble and chest compress.

Strong arms surround me. I hug my father tightly. I hug him so tightly as if I'm physically making it impossible for him to leave us.

I was wrong.

He did so much for us. He saved me from that cruel mother. He sat by my bedside when I had nightmares. He hit the floor for me when I fell down and hurt my knee. He hugged me when I cleared my NEET, ranking second in our state. He told me how proud he was of me when I chose General Surgery as my field. He kissed me on the forehead when I was about to assist my first ever surgery. He patted my back when I did it successfully. He did so much and I never acknowledged it. Never. And now I want the time to go back, I want to smile at him, hug him back, thank him for being my father.

"Maybe this is the repentance of my sins." He murmurs, rubbing my back softly. I cry harder, my sobs muffled on his shoulder. I shake my head, tightening my arms everytime they loosen. "I'm scared, Vivaan." He confesses. "I want to scream and cry and have a breakdown because I really hate my life. I hate every bit of it!" He grits out. "But I love my kids, God I love you." He cups the back of my head. "I love all of you." He pulls back and holds my face gently. "So even if I get the chance to go back in time, I'll still marry your mother, go through everything she put me through, hurt my Scarlett again, I'd do it. I'd do it all over again. Because I can't live without you. You and your brothers kept me going. I know I couldn't be a good father." I shake my head. "Shh," he chuckles through his tears. "I know. I'm aware. But just know this," he inhales a deep breath. "I tried, Vivaan. I tried so hard."

I break down again.

"But I failed." He holds my face up, forcing me to keep looking at him. "In the past, I failed myself, and now when I want to try again, time failed me."

I sniffle.

"I'm entrusting Taranya with you and your brothers. You'll take care of her, right? I know you will."

I nod hurriedly.

"That's like my boy." He presses a kiss on my forehead.

I hug him again. We sit on the floor. In silence. In absolute silence. Just soaking in each other's presence, wanting to spend every minute, every second, every moment carefully, awake and together.

"How much time?" I lift my head from the bed end, my arm planted on the right knee.

"Nine months, maximum."

I feel my heart stop for a second.

"Who else knows?"

"No one." He shakes his head. "And we're not telling anyone."

I frown. "Dad-"

"Promise me." He holds out his hand.

I insist against the idea. "Dad-"

"Please. I want to hide this for as long as I can." He says. "Please help me. I want to live a lifetime in next nine months. I want to become a father they'll remember and not resent." He begs.

Reluctantly, I place my hand in his and he latches onto it quickly.

"Promise me." He urges.

"I promise."

And that night, as I carried the pain with me to my sleep, the weight of an entire universe rested on my chest.

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