To Be Continued...

FORTY TWO

HARINI'S POV

Both of these people are fighting for my happiness, and it's everything I've ever imagined. I know I should be cautious, or at least, tell myself to be careful, but all I can see is the love I’ve always dreamed of approaching me.

Nicolas has undoubtedly succeeded in making me feel secure and cherished, unlike Santino, who made me question my self-worth. There have been other people in my life supporting me as I tried to shut the door on Santino, people who listened to me and were there whenever I needed them. But none of them have made me feel the way Nicolas does. Every time he sends a text, or I see his name pop up when he calls—which he always does—I get goosebumps. I don’t know if I deserve this kind of love or even the attention he’s giving me. Maybe I overthink things sometimes, or I react unnecessarily. But the trauma Santino left me with still haunts me, even when I wish it wouldn’t.

"Hey Harini," Nicolas says from the other side of the phone. I wish he were on the same side as me, right in front of me, you know?

"Hiii," I reply, blushing to myself.

"You’re blushing!" he immediately remarks. Wait, what? How does he know that? I didn’t ask him, of course, but he seems to have a way of guessing things.

"Noo!" I reply, trying to sound casual.

"Come on, you know you’re terrible at lying." And he’s right—I am. But it’s a little awkward how he always knows when I’m blushing. Every time I talk to him, I tend to blush more than usual, and somehow, he manages to bring that blush to the surface. We don’t talk much these days because I’ve been busy working on Dad’s birthday preparations. Mom and I did a little decorating with balloons, but I miss Nandini right now. I miss her almost every day. She was the only best friend I’ve ever had who truly understood what it meant to be one.

It’s already 11:55 p.m. I ask Mom to get ready while I put the finishing touches on the preparations—just the cake and our gifts. I quickly change into a dungaree, and Mom brings Dad into the room.

00:00, March 25.

“Happy Birthday, Dad,” I say, hugging him as he places a kiss on my forehead.

We step apart, and I bring the cake forward, playing a soft song in the background. This may not be my true family, or at least not complete, but tonight it feels picture-perfect. How I wish it could always be like this.

Just as I’m imagining this as my perfect family, the phone rings.

Of course, it’s her. She always has to intrude, pretending to care. My stepmother puts the call on speaker so my father can talk to his ex-wife, who is also my biological mother. She always manages to interfere in our family moments, making sure I never love my stepmom enough.

"Hey Priyum, happy birthday, darling. Sending love to you and our daughter. I hope Niya is doing well." As soon as she finishes her wish, I end the call. My father glares at me, but he knows why I did that.

I try not to let it ruin my mood, and just then, a text pops up.

"A very happy birthday to the KING of my princess."