Amidst A Thousand Suns

~suns and universes~

Anamika's P.O.V.

~~~

Although the proof was right in my hands, my heart just refused to believe that she was gone.
Gone.
Just...gone.
My daughter.
My Aaghyaa.
One moment she was there and then, she wasn't.
My whole heart and soul refused to believe it but my stupid mind knows the truth.

Just a couple of days she was there; laughing while looking at CarryMinati's videos and giggling at her own dark jokes; a soft light on her glowing face when she danced around randomly in the house, thinking about her iconic moment with Ajey.

A soft chuckle escaped my mouth with the tears still rolling down my cheeks at the memory.
She just couldn't stop talking about how magical she had felt at that moment.

But just as I held Aaghyaa's letter between my frail hands while sitting on the white swing on the porch which once used to dance in the aroma of chocolate muffins made by her, but now was just reaking away in her absence, I wondered that did I had any other option but to accept the truth?

All was fine the night before she died.
We had just watched a favourite movie of hers, named 'Kuchh Bheege Alfaaz' and went to sleep in our own bedrooms at about 1 a.m.
The next morning, as I had sipped my usual morning tea, I had wondered why she hadn't woken up till then.
And when I went in her room to see...

I can never forget how I had felt about the world tearing into two cracks and bury me between them.

But my heart had been brave.
I thought she was just unconscious; yes, I still had that little flicker of hope in me even when the hospital staff carried her in the stretcher for inspection.

But she never woke up from her slumber.

The doctor said that it was a heart attack that was caused by her asthma.
Upon inspection, the doctor suggested that she might have gotten a sudden asthma attack in the middle of the night.
It was auch a severe one that before her mind could process the sudden shortness of breath, her heart stopped functioning due to the same.
The doctor had said that her heart had turned weak over so many years.

I refused to believe that.
Her heart was the strongest I have ever seen.
In medical terms, it might be weak, but the way it had endured all the pains and obstacles thrown at her and even come out of it alive, let alone help me come out of it, was enough of a proof to say that she, indeed, was the strong woman I had once wished for her to be.

'Was'.
Not 'is'.
But, 'was'.

The usual ritual had followed.
My nights are still sleepless and the days, tiring.
And when I even dared to sleep for even a second, I would wake up by some or the other nightmare; the nightmares of her her laughter, crystal clear and echoing through the whole length of me.
I never knew that something that I adored so much would be a nightmare for me.
It has been a few days now since her demise and I haven't properly eat, slept, worked, talked or walked; even lived properly, and just breathed around like a mechanical robot.
I would go to her room at any given time of the day and just lay there on the bed with her bedsheets covering my tired body.
Sometimes, I would just sit on her bedroom floor and stare at the ceiling fan.

I still can't cry though.
Not even at the day of her funeral.
On that day, I just went to her room and looked for her book where she wrote all her poetry stuff.
Her journal.
She always kept it on her side-table and it wasn't so hard to find it, just like Arun's had been.
And I had flipped through it; flipped and read all her works until I read the poem which she had recited in 'The Friendly Bean'.
And just after that, he last writing had not been a piece of poetry but just a single sentence.