This Love

RIAN

13  November 2018

I lost the most important match. I let down three thousand students. I let down over a hundred faculty. I let down another hundred of the non teaching staff. I let down the principal. I let down the student council president. I let down my department head. I let down my coach. I let down my friends. I let down my parents. I let myself down. 

Go change and come, they said. I changed but it doesn't change the way I feel. It still hurts. It hurts a lot. 

I cried a bit but the pain won't just go away. I had to go collect my runner up trophies, but it didn't matter anymore. I had one more year left in this campus and I've already let them down the hardest I could. The hardest anyone could bring failure upon others. 

I failed them all. I failed myself. I won all those matches but I couldn't win a single important one that mattered. What is the point?

No one would trust me again. No one would cheer for me again. No one would believe in me again. Because I don't deserve any of it. 

The only thing I was good at. Badminton. I failed at it too. 

Darkness consumes my mind. I am screaming but no one is listening. No one wants to help me. I am a liability. I deserve to die. 

I'm a failure. 

I am good for nothing. 

Everyone hates me.

I'm a failure.

I am good for nothing. 

Everyone hates me.

I'm a failure.

I am good for nothing. 

Everyone hates me.

I'm a failure.

I am good for nothing. 

Everyone hates me.

I'm a failure.

I am good for nothing. 

Everyone hates me.

Suddenly a source of warmth and light takes me by surprise. Like a ray of sunshine that creeps in when you open the curtains in the morning. I feel like I just woke up from a deep sleep. 

I realize that it is raining. My change of clothes has been drenched. How long have I been standing here?

And someone is holding my hand. It is small. And warm. It feels nice to have someone hold my hand. 

Who is it? Who is with me now? 

"Hey, I've been looking for you all this time-"

It's a girl. 

She has been looking for me? 

I turn back to look at the source of this comfort. 

I remember her. I remember her. I remember her. 

She's the one I carried to the infirmary when she fainted at the entrance of the library one early morning. I had morning practice that day and I was going back to the hostel for my breakfast. I held her straight as she lost her consciousness. I remember she said something like "paracetamol" She could have her paracetamol from the infirmary, I thought. I wanted to stay with her until she came back to her senses, but I don't know why. I didn't stay though. Thoughts of her kept coming back to me that day. Next morning, I woke up early even though my practice was scheduled for evening. I reached near the library entrance ten minutes earlier. And I waited. I waited like a fool. But then I saw her, carrying books her size, chatting with some other girl. She's alive, I smiled to myself. I smiled. 

I smiled. I smiled. I smiled. 

Vanhi Juyal. I made sure I knew her name. I took a peek at her college ID.

She's the same now. Her long hair now wet and sticking to her face, her dark brown eyes which could spiral you into thinking that it is rather black than brown, her small round perfect lips, her honey glowed skin and a white floral dress that fits her lean figure perfectly. She's beautiful, I think. 

And she has this smile. And this gaze. Which could treat any illness of this world. 

Her small hand holding mine. It is warm. It is nice. It is comfortable. It fits perfectly in mine. But it is freezing. Her hand is shaking in cold. Involuntarily, I press her hand gently. She didn't seem to notice. Good. 

She is drenched wet like me. I don't speak. I was only grateful. Grateful to have someone with me. Grateful that it happened to be her than anyone else. 

Does she know me? Does she know that I know her?

Her delighted smile turns into a surprising one. 

She doesn't know me. She doesn't know me. She doesn't know me. 

She had been running. She is catching her breath. Her chest heaving. And I could feel her skin losing contact slowly from mine. 

For some more time, I crave. Just a minute more. 

She suddenly breaks her hand away from mine. 

She was looking for someone else. She mistook me for someone she was looking for. 

"I- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just thought you were someone else- I'm sorry." 

Her voice is sweet. Can she sing? I wonder.

Her apologetic smile. Just as beautiful. And consuming in light. 

She starts running towards the path I was supposed to walk. She must be embarrassed right now. She doesn't look back. I could follow her but rain starts to pour heavily, clouding my vision. 

I hope she remembers me the next time. I hope she comes and talk to me tomorrow. I hope to see her everyday. 

I start walking again. 

I don't feel the darkness. 

Did she make it disappear? 

Did she save me from myself?

Scary, the power she holds. 

End of this book. Thanks for reading. Please wait for part two.