Mira lives like a princess, who has everything and more- until her life takes a turn for the worse when she succumbs to the allure of parties and drugs. Her family, fed up with her train wreck of a life, takes a drastic decision to marry her off. Sh...
In fact, I've remained sober for a week— an achievement that feels nothing short of a miracle. Each day, I wake up feeling the same yet somehow different. Time no longer slips away; I finally see the world for what it is, untainted by the distortions of my mind.
The devil still lurks, preying on me when I am alone, taunting me when I am bored, exploiting me when I am tired. 'Just once,' it whispers. 'Do it. Do it. Do it.' But I am learning to avoid its call. The day I master it will be the day I break free from its suffocating grip.
Meditation helps.
They guide us through different meditation techniques in rehab. It sounds simple, but it's like trying to grasp air with bare hands. On day one, I could barely evade the myriad of thoughts racing through my mind. Thirty seconds felt like an eternity. Now, I can meditate for five minutes, enough to rid every thought that dares to push itself into my head.
Focus on your breathing. You’ll be okay. I remind myself every morning. With each inhale, I find strength. With each exhale, I find peace.
“Now slowly open your eyes,” the instructor's voice cuts through the silence, guiding me back to the present.
I wiggle my toes and fingers before looking at him.
“If you are ready, I invite you to share your story with others. You won't be judged, I assure you,” he continues, his tone gentle.
A guy across from me raises his hand and walks to the center of the room. I can't say about him, but my nerves tighten like coils at the thought of standing before thirteen pairs of eyes. Sharing my story is another thing. I can only imagine passing out before a single word leaves my mouth.
I redirect my attention as he begins to speak. The weight of his words pulls me too deep into his world. He was once a medical student, but the relentless pressure to maintain high grades became too much. To cope, he turned to meds, but an overdose destroyed everything. He's no longer a student, labeled as an addict. Even his family is done with his ‘stunts’.
More and more of them step forward, bravely speaking about themselves. While it feels nice to know I am not alone, it also hits me hard— I messed up for no reason. Hearing about the struggles others have faced, the hardships that pushed them to the brink, doubles my guilt and shame. I had everything—a blessed life with the best family. So why did I go wrong? Why did I succumb to temptation?
“Mira?” the instructor prompts when it's my turn.
I shake my head as words refuse to cooperate.
“It’s okay. Take your time,” he reassures me with a kind smile. “Please know that whenever you choose to share, you will be met with understanding and support.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, feeling the burden of everyone's gaze. Despite his comforting words, I know I will be judged. My story is nothing but that of a privileged princess whose life spiraled out of control because she couldn't resist the allure of parties. There is no excuse, no justification.
“Let's end it here. Thank you for participating in today's session. I look forward to our next meeting. Take care.”
As we all rise to leave, he gestures for me to wait a moment. Alone, he speaks up. “Mira, if you're not comfortable sharing with us, confide in someone with whom you feel close. It doesn't have to be right away. But please, talk.”
I nod and exit the room, his words echoing in my head. Do I have anyone I'm close to? Not really. At least, I don't feel close to anyone anymore. My mum used to be my best buddy, but she has changed so much over the years. She would rather talk to the wall than with me. And I would rather not share. The mere thought of being judged makes my stomach drop.
“Look, your husband is here,” one of them remarks. Diya, I recall, whose life was shattered by her abusive uncle, leading her to seek solace in substances to numb the pain. Thankfully, her parents cut off their connection with the monster, and now she is learning to love herself.
I follow her gaze to the entrance, where Rihan is leaning against his car, patiently waiting for me like he does every day. Our eyes meet, and my heart skips a beat, just like that.
“Gosh, the way he looks at you,” Diya whispers with a wistful sigh as we near him.
I blink and turn to her. “He isn't—”
“Oh, my dad's here! Bye!”
“Bye,” I respond, swallowing my previous words as she rushes off.
I walk up to Rihan, who greets me with a smile and opens the door for me. His smile remains constant no matter how moody I am.
“How was your day?” comes his standard question once we are seated.
“Fine,” I respond to him coldly, as I always do, hoping he'll drop the subject, but he never does.
He simply nods and starts to drive.
I fasten my seatbelt, my mood souring with every passing second. The amount of patience he has is commendable yet irritating. I want him to show some impoliteness so that I can hate him.
"You can't do anything about it," I finally say.
"Huh? Try me."
"He, um, the instructor, he wants me to talk about my addiction," I admit in a quiet voice. "I-I'm not ready to share."
"Then,” he pauses, glancing at me briefly. “Talk to the stars."
"What?" I ask, more focused on my chipped nails, finding the jagged edges far more interesting than the man whose gaze pierces into me.
"When I don't have people who'd understand me, I talk to the stars." I can't disregard the smile that he gives me. "Of course, it's a shame we can't see them every night due to the pollution. But they're there. They listen. They always do. Just try.”
I stare at him, wondering if he is aware of the stars gleaming in his eyes. Bright and beautiful, they have me spellbound. I am suddenly transported back to the moment he enveloped me in a hug. The memory is still fresh in my mind, like it was mere seconds ago. His warm breath danced across my bare skin as he nestled his face against my neck. With gentle yet firm hands, he pulled me close, his arms securing around my waist, taking me to a safe place. His scent, which is all him, filled my senses with a comforting familiarity.
They say home is a person. I think I understand them now. For just a heartbeat, I felt it.
My home.
But I can't entertain such thoughts.
It's impossible. Impossible. He can never be mine.
For he deserves the best of the best.
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