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-• a new chapter •-

Taranya

I put down the last box waiting to be opened. My course books stored neatly inside. I sit down and fold my legs across the floor, taking out the books and stacking them on top of one another.

"Taranya," I look past my shoulder. Janet stands at the doorstep with a timid smile on her face. "The dinner is ready."

I look back at the mess around me. "You go ahead and have it. I'll come after I'm done with this." I tell her, my lips forced to curl at the corners.

"I can help you-" she takes a step forward.

"No," I stop her. "Go and have your dinner. I'll have mine when I'm done."

She releases an exasperated sigh. "What are you going to do tomorrow?"

I frown, clueless to the context of her question.

"No more boxes." She points towards empty the corner of my room. My eyes follow. The fake smile on my face drops. "No more reasons to skip dinner."

I pick up the bunch of books I've got out and walk to the shelf to arrange them neatly. I read the title of each book, mull quietly where it goes and put it there, doing the same with the remaining six in my arms. Janet doesn't move from her spot. I don't plan on getting into a verbal fight with her so I ignore her.

She wouldn't understand no matter how many times I say it. I can't eat. It makes me want to throw up. The last thing I ate was the Halwa made by my father, and everytime I look at food, it reminds me of that taste.

A strange feeling stirs inside my stomach. As if my intestines are looping together, forming a knot that crawls up my throat and sits there. I can't bring myself to swallow food. I've to force myself to push something down my throat. And I do it. I eat enough to not faint.

Everyone is grieving. Everyone deserves their own time to bereave the loss. If I don't look after myself, someone will have to stop looking after themselves to look after me. And I don't intend to cross that line of selfishness.

But that doesn't mean I'd put up an act of doing perfectly fine. I can fake a smile, not an appetite. The sooner she understands this, the better for her. She needs to stop wasting her time behind me. I've chosen to feel like this, and strangely, I find comfort in this grief.

"You don't think he's happy seeing you like this, right?" She asks rhetorically.

I stop taking out the books and stand straight to face her.

"No, Janet, I don't know if he's happy or not. I don't even know if he's watching me or not. Because guess what?" I smile sarcastically. "I can't see him anymore." My hands splay forward helplessly. "I can't see him anymore, Janet!" I snap, tears brimming my eyes. "And that hurts! The fact that I know how he smiles, how he smells, his voice, how he looks when he's happy, when he's sad, I know everything about him, but I can't see him anymore!" My lips wobble and I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "He's so vivid, so fucking real in my memories that I feel he'd spawn out of them and stand right in front of my eyes! Everytime I hear the sound of someone's footsteps, I look at the door, and for a split second, this silly thought crosses my mind that he's standing on the other side!" I cry out helplessly. "It's so God damn painful! And you wouldn't know! You wouldn't know half of it! So shut up and mind your own business!" I step back.

She rushes in when I hit the box with the back of my knee and crash to the floor. My hand takes the fall, and a sheer burning sensation follows. I whimper, cradling the red palm to my chest as I scoot back and burst out in louder sobs.

"Tara!" Agastya appears at the doorstep, worried sick, his eyes wide and footsteps heavy. He runs inside the room upon seeing my state and crouches in front of me on one knee. "What's wrong?" He cups my cheek. "What happened?" He looks at Janet demandingly. "Did you two argue?"

"No, we didn't," I answer, sniffing softly. "She wanted me to join her for dinner and I blew up on her." I explain.

"Then she stumbled against the box and fell down." Janet adds, gently taking my hand in hers and showing him the swollen palm. He winces. "Stay here, I'll get the first aid box." She tells him before walking out of the room.

Silence fills the room. I cry softly, hugging my hand to my chest. The physical pain no less than the emotional one.

"Do you want her to go?" Agastya asks me reluctantly.

"Go where?" My brows furrow together.

"To her home?" He probes cautiously, as if he's thinking a hundred times before letting the words escape his mouth. Perhaps, worried he'd hit the wrong chord. Yet he fails. "Her mother wanted her to come home now that we're in England. But Vivaan Bhai insisted she stays with you. She also didn't want to-"

"If she doesn't want to go, then the topic ends there." I interrupt him. "I want her here with me, Agastya. In fact, I want her with me for the rest of my life. But that's not my decision to make. It's hers. And if she wants the same, I couldn't be anymore lucky. Trust me, she's putting up with me, not the other way around."

He nods in understanding. "I'm sorry to suggest that."

I sniffle softly and clean my face with the back of my good hand. Janet enters the room, her eyes slightly glossy. Avoiding my gaze, she squats down and takes my hand in hers.

"I'll ask Ms. Bertha to put the food away. Have it when you feel like eating." He pats my knee and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

It stings when she cleans those tiny scratches with an antiseptic. I wince, earning a sharp glance from her. Then she covers them up with a band-aid before applying pain relief spray to my swollen palm and wraps it up carefully with a bandage. Putting my hand back on my lap, she packs up the first aid box and gets up to leave.

"Are you mad?"

She halts abruptly.

"You are." I nod.

She turns around and looks down at me. "If you know me so well, then tell me the reason too. Why do you think I'm mad?"

"Is this how couples fight?" I try to joke my way out of the confrontation.

She sighs disappointedly.

"Because I got angry over you?" I mumble meekly.

She scoffs. "A decade long friendship and this is what you think will make me mad at you?"

I nibble on the inside of my lower lip. "No?"

"Of course not, Tara!" She grits out, harshly brushing off the tears that fall down her cheeks. "I'm mad because I'm losing my bestfriend right before my eyes. It makes me feel so helpless. But I can't tell you to snap out of it, can I? Because what you said is absolutely true. I don't know half of the pain you're going through. I'm not mad because you've stopped taking care of yourself. I'm here to do that. I'm mad because you're not letting me! All I need from your end is some acknowledgement. Some reciprocal. If I'm reaching out to hold you, I don't want you to step back. If I'm holding a spoonful of food to your mouth, I don't want you to turn your head away. If I'm trying to help you, I don't want you to coldly shut the door on my face. That's all, Tara! That's all!" Her shoulders vibrate violently as she spills the tears in the cup of her hands.

I close my eyes and look down at the floor, consumed with guilt and remorse. She kneels in front of me and keeps the first aid aside, placing her hands on my knee caps. Tears well my eyes. I look up at her.

"I don't want you to pretend that you're fine. I want you to be real towards yourself even when I'm around. Cry if you want, I don't mind. But when I reach out to you with a couple of tissues, take them. That's all I want. That's really all I want." She whispers.

I weep softly. She leans over to rest her forehead against mine. I cry harder. "There, there," she murmurs, using the pad of her thumbs to wipe my tears. "Let it all out. Let it all out, sweetheart. Don't ever hide yourself."

I yank her in my arms, my chin on her shoulder and I embrace her with all in me.

When we pull apart, we both sniffle. "You haven't eaten anything since this morning."

"I did," I remind her pointedly.

"Yeah, a cup of coffee." She snorts. "That's not a meal."

I pull myself together and sit straight, my eyes burning from all the crying. I look at her tiredly. "Then bring us something to eat."

She smiles tearfully. "Give me five minutes." She tells me, "Clean this room in the meanwhile. We're going to watch a movie." I watch her leave the room and drop my head back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My eyes fall close automatically and the stinging resides.

Forcing myself to move, I put the books away and kick the empty box in the corner of the room. Janet arrives a few minutes later. We sit down on my bed and she goes over to my desk for the laptop.

I look down at my plate.

Roti, Dal, Rice, and Egg Curry.

When we start eating, I avoid the hard food and eat the soft ones. In the end, the roti and eggs remain untouched. I nibble on my lower lip, casting her a careful glance before putting my plate away.

She chuckles at some scene and taps my thigh. I smile too, nodding when she repeats the funny dialogue.

I know she told me not to pretend. But isn't that how we humans are wired? As a child, we always see the adults pretending that everything's fine. And that somehow sticks. As if expressing yourself is a weakness. The tougher you show yourself to the world, the more responsible world perceives you.

"Oh God, you gotta love Ryan Reynolds' comic timing!" She laughs.

I chuckle too.

She carries my plate to the kitchen for me. Thankfully, she doesn't notice that I left out particularly hard food. I can't seem to eat anything that requires chewing. My throat constricts and I feel like throwing up. It started after Dad's death. I can't seem to find the reason.

My phone on the nightstand flashes in the dark. I pick it up and see a Times of India's notification. Shourya's face attached underneath. He's daily in the news. There was a time I used to love seeing his face on the screen. Now I feel nothing but disgust.

I hope he never shows me his face again.

I'm afraid I'll end up hating him more.

And I already hate him so much I don't want to torment myself with more.

Turning off the notifications, I throw the phone back on the nightstand. Janet returns a few minutes later.

"Let's watch another movie!" She announces. I nod with a smile.

She puts on Crazy, Stupid, Love.

I don't realise when I fall asleep. But it's next morning that I wake up hearing my phone alarm. Shutting it off, I bury my face underneath the pillow and groan feeling it warm on my skin. Turning around, my leg hits something hard.

"What the hell, bitch!?" Something kicks me back harder in the hip.

I let out a painful oomph.

My eyes flicker open and I dig my head out of the thick blanket. The tangled mass of my hair blocks my sight. I manage to get my hands out and push the strands back, huffing softly in relief. I look to my right. Janet sleeps peacefully next to me, snoring like a pig.

A knock on the door catches my attention. "Wake up, sunshines. It's Monday. Your first day at the University awaits!" Agastya announces from outside the door.

Janet and I sit up with a startling realisation. She looks like she is rescued from a zombie apocalypse. We look at each other, then our eyes dart to the wall clock. She shrieks reading the time and throws off the comforter, running out of the room like her tail caught fire.

Agastya, wide eyed, flinches back and plasters himself to the wall.

"What is this girl?" He looks at me once the shock wears off.

I smile. "Good morning."

"Morning. The breakfast is ready. Come out, you're already late." He mutters before closing my door.

I look down at my lap and release a long breathe.

Janet and I got into two different universities unfortunately. She got into UCL, given how smart she is, and I got accepted in City, University of London. Also because UCL doesn't offer Journalism. Otherwise, honestly, I wouldn't have cared if my brother needed to pull a few strings to get me accepted. The world's selfish as fuck. I've had enough staying true with it.

I get off the bed as well. After folding the sheets and making the bed, I head inside the bathroom to wash my mouth and take a shower. Half hour later, I step outside the bathroom while tying the knot of my bathrobe. Drying my feet on the mat, I enter the wardrobe and look through the options. I choose a simple, striped pullover sweater and high waisted blue jeans. Throwing my hair in a pony, I comb through the ends and apply a little make up to hide my dark circles and sunken cheeks. I put on the watch and wear the sneakers. Coming out, I fill my backpack with the needed material for the first day.

I'm nervous.

I'll be joining the course in second year. Everyone there must already have friends or acquaintances they get along with. I'll have none.

Fuck.

Starting a new chapter is harder than ending an old one.

Throwing away the pessimistic thoughts, I put my laptop and a new notebook along with a few pens inside the backpack before zipping it close. Swinging the strap over my shoulder, I exit the room and close the door after me. I see three bowls of soup on the dining table. A breath of relief passes through me.

I sit down and Aunt Bertha comes over to serve me some toasts. I hold her hand before she can place one in my plate. "Just the soup is fine." I tell her.

"Are you sure?" She asks softly. "I also have beans and sprouts-"

"No, this is fine. Thank you." I smile up at her.

She nods and goes back to the kitchen. Janet appears first. She sits down hurriedly in her chair and starts to hog down the food. Agastya comes in next. He grimaces at her sight.

"Slow down. What are you? A pig?" He scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee.

Janet holds up a middle finger as a retort. I snicker. He shakes his head and reaches inside his pocket for something. Two car keys drop on the table. "Choose one. You're going to have to use it for the rest of your university life."

"I don't need one. Dad has sent me my brother's car. He doesn't use it anymore." Janet scrapes off the last of the soup and slurps it down.

"Oh, the Toyota Corolla?" He raises a brow. "No, you're not driving that shitbox."

"Hey! It's not a shitbox. That's my brother's car." Janet says with narrowed eyes, her tone offended.

Agastya hums. "I respect that it's your brother's car, but it's not accessible."

"Just because it's not a high-end luxury car, doesn't mean it's not accessible." She snarls and snatches the green keys from the two. "Make sure my car has a spot in the parking lot by the time I return. Excuse me." She gets off the chair and grabs her backpack from the side. "See you in the evening, Tara. All the best for your first day."

"What is wrong with her? I was giving her an upgrade." He looks at me, as if unable to believe she had the audacity to offend him even when he was the first to do that. I roll my eyes.

"Try not to piss her off. She's scary when she's angry." I advise, accepting the leftover keys and heading outside.

The receptionist at the lobby stands up to greet me. "Good morning, Princess Taranya." She says, catching a few weird looks from the people in the lobby.

I smile awkwardly. "Call me Taranya, Emma. And good morning."

She smiles. "All the best!"

I nod at her in response, giving her a smile of my own. I wouldn't say I missed this. Because I didn't. But coming here and seeing these familiar faces makes me feel at ease. I'm far away from the place that's my home, but still closer to the one that used to be. It's reassuring. As if I'm not completely lost yet.

The drive to the University lasts twenty minutes with traffic. If I continue in the opposite direction, I'll reach UCL in another twenty. Janet must be there now, checking her schedule, following the map to find her faculty. After all, UCL has a large campus. I drop my head on the wheel and hit the horn. Startling back, I see a few other students give me a stink eye. I smile sheepishly and mouth an apology.

Quietly stepping out of the car, I wear the backpack on my shoulders and look at the modern infrastructure in front of me. "Well, here goes nothing," I walk to the building and step inside, my sneakers squeaking against the shiny floors.

I collect the map from the reception and take out my phone to check the schedule. Did I mention I'm bad at directions? I think I did. And if I hadn't, everyone must already know.

I'm horrible at directions.

I try to make sense of them stupidly, my head buried in the piece of paper and I blindly follow it. So it's no surprise when I slam my head against a hard chest.

"Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry!" I teeter back and lift my head, only to receive the shock of my life. "You?"

"I thought you wouldn't recognise me." He smiles that familiar smile I was guilty of stealing. "How have you been, Taranya?"

"I- I'm - I'm fine. What about you, Tarun?"

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