I woke up before the sun again. Not because I want to. I don’t think I’ve wanted to wake up early in years. Sleep just… doesn’t stay. It slips out of my hands sometime in the middle of the night, and no matter how tightly I try to hold onto it, it leaves me staring at the ceiling long before morning decides to arrive.

So I don’t try anymore.

I just turn my head toward the window and wait.

The sky is that strange shade of blue again. It wasn’t night or morning, something in between, like it hasn’t decided what it wants to be yet. I like this part the most. Not because it’s beautiful, but because it doesn’t expect anything from me.

The machines hum softly beside me. The monitor beeps in that slow, familiar rhythm that has somehow become more constant than my own thoughts.

I count. Not days because I stopped counting days a long time ago. I count heartbeats. One. Two. Three. There’s always a pause after three. Long enough to notice. Not long enough to panic anymore.

Four.

I used to be scared of that pause, now I just wait for it to end. The door opens without a knock. It always does. “Good morning, Shristy.” 

I turn my head slightly and nod, the movement small, practiced. Smiling feels like effort, and I don’t have energy for unnecessary things.

“How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” It’s automatic now. The answer. The tone. The way I say it like it’s true.

The nurse moves around me, checking the IV, adjusting something on the monitor, writing something down I don’t bother asking about. I’ve learned that knowing doesn’t change anything.

“You’re our easiest patient,” she says, almost laughing. “No complaints, no drama… I wish everyone was like you.”

I don’t respond. Because I know what she means. Easy patients don’t ask how long they have or if they’ll ever leave. Easy patients don’t hope.

When she leaves, the room feels bigger or  maybe just emptier. I reach for my journal without thinking. It’s always there, right beside me, like the only thing that hasn’t changed.

Same black cover. Same worn-out edges. Same pages filled with words that feel like they belong to someone I used to be as I open a blank page. For a second, I just stare at it.

Then I write—Day I-don’t-know-anymore. My handwriting is neat. As if I was never attached to it. 

Nothing changed.

I pause.

I didn’t expect it to.

The pen hovers in my hand, like it’s waiting for me to feel something worth writing. I don’t. So I close it. Not because I’m done. But because there’s nothing left to say. 

Somewhere down the hallway, a child starts crying. “Mujhe ghar jaana hai…!” My fingers tighten slightly against the bedsheet. Just for a second. Something shifts inside me, something familiar.

I close my eyes only for a moment. And when I open them? I’m still here. Twenty-three. Not seven. Not crying or waiting.

Let’s take it back. Because maybe that’s all I really do anyway, live in what was, instead of what is.

Today, I turned twenty-three and it all started when I was seven. Let’s take it back because maybe that’s where I’ve been living all along.

Today I turn twenty-three, and somehow everything still begins from when I was seven.

My seventh birthday at the Malhotra mansion wasn’t supposed to be big. At least, that’s what I had asked for. “I don’t want a ball,” I had told mamma, standing there with all the seriousness I could gather in my tiny voice. “I just want to spend time with Danish bhaiya, Akaay bhaiya, and Lakshi didi.”

I remember the way they looked at me. A little surprised. A little amused. Like I had asked for something simple when, in our house, nothing ever really was but they agreed or at least, they tried to.

It still turned into something grand. Just… my version of a grand Royal-themed party. And I didn’t mind, not when it meant I got to decide everything.

“I’m the princess,” I had declared first, because that was obvious.

“Obviously,” Danish bhaiya had said, leaning casually like he already knew that was coming.

“And you both—” I pointed at him and Akaay bhaiya with full authority, “—are Dukes of the North.”

Akaay bhaiya frowned immediately. “Why am I from the North?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is.”

Danish bhaiya laughed under his breath. “Accept your fate.”

“I don’t like my fate,” Akaay bhaiya muttered.

I grinned because I loved it. “And Lakshi didi,” I continued, turning to her with a proud smile, “is the Empress.”

She smiled softly, like she belonged there. “Of course I am.” Then she added, very calmly, “But every duke needs a duchess.”

I blinked. That sounded important.

“Oh.” I thought for a moment, my brows scrunching as I tried to fix the story. And then it came to me.

“Kiara and Kritika!” I said, almost jumping. “They can be duchesses.”

Lakshi didi smiled wider, clearly pleased.

Akaay bhaiya groaned. “Why are you assigning people to me?”

“Because you need a duchess,” I said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t need anything.”

“You do,” I insisted. “Otherwise the story is incomplete.”

Danish bhaiya chuckled, shaking his head. “Listen to her.”

Lakshi didi leaned in slightly, teasing now, “Kritika would make a very nice duchess, don’t you think?”

Akaay bhaiya looked away too quickly. “I think this conversation is unnecessary.”

“And Kiara?” she added, turning to Danish bhaiya. He scoffed lightly, but there was something in the way his ears turned a little red.

“You both are blushing!” I gasped, delighted.

“We are not,” they said at the same time, which made it worse. Lakshi didi laughed and I laughed harder.

The garden was filled with flowers. Not the decorative kind, the real ones. Soft petals, bright colors, the kind that made everything feel like a storybook. Lakshi didi and I sat on the grass for what felt like forever, making garlands, my fingers clumsy but determined.

“Like this,” she showed me again.

“I am doing it like that,” I insisted.

“You’re not.”

“I’m doing it differently.”

She smiled and let me.

Once it was done, it was time for our actual princesses to wear it.  “Hold still!” I said, standing on my toes as I tried to put the garland around Akaay bhaiya’s neck.

“I am still!”

“You moved!”

“I blinked!”

“That’s moving!”

Danish bhaiya laughed as I turned to him next, making him bend slightly so I could reach. “There,” I said proudly, stepping back to admire both of them. “Now you look like real dukes.”

“I feel like decoration,” Akaay bhaiya muttered.

“That’s because you’re pretty,” I said without thinking.

He stared at me. Danish bhaiya laughed louder.

“And now—makeup.” As lakshi di said

“No.” Akaay bhaiya was the first one to say it, That was immediate. Like it was firm and final

“Please?” I asked.

“No.” He refused. 

“Pleaseee?”

“No.” He didn’t back down.

“Lakshi didi will help.” I offered. 

“That’s exactly why I’m saying no.” He replied.

“It will be fun.” Lakshi di said.

“It will not be fun.” He said, as his decision wasn’t gonna change.

So I did what always works. I looked at him. Properly. Big eyes. Small pout. Just a slight tilt of my head. Not too much. Just enough. He froze.

Danish bhaiya let out a quiet laugh.

“Don’t,” Akaay bhaiya warned, pointing at me. “Don’t do that.”

I blinked again, slower this time.

He groaned. “This is emotional manipulation.”

“It’s not,” I said softly. “It’s love.”

He sighed like the whole world was against him and finally dropped into the chair. “Five minutes.”

“Ten.” I countered .

“Five.” He countered back.

“Eight.”

“Six.”

“Okay.” And just like that, They sat there, trying not to move while Lakshi didi and I experimented like artists who didn’t know what they were doing.

A little here. A little there. Things that didn’t match. Things that definitely shouldn’t exist.

Akaay bhaiya kept complaining. “Is this necessary?”

“Yes.” Lakshi didi replied. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because I said so.” I replied. 

“That’s still not a reason.”

“It’s the only reason.”

When we were done, I looked at them and burst into laughter. The kind that doesn’t stop, because they looked so funny. Danish bhaiya was smiling now too, and even Akaay bhaiya was trying not to, even though he kept shaking his head.

“This is revenge,” he said.

“For what?” I asked.

“For existing.”

I laughed even harder, and in that moment. Everything felt soft and warm. Like the sun had decided to stay just for me. Like this moment was wrapped around me and would never leave.I didn’t know then, That moments like this don’t stay. That sometimes, the happiest days of your life, are just the beginning of everything you’re about to lose.

We went back inside the Malhotra mansion still laughing. The kind of laughter that follows you even when the moment is over, like it hasn’t realized it’s supposed to stop yet.

My legs felt tired in that happy way, the kind that comes after running too much and smiling too much and just… being too much for one day. I climbed onto the couch, curling my legs under me, my dress spreading around me like I was still the princess I had decided to be.

The house felt quieter inside. Lakshi didi was in the same hall, walking slowly as she spoke on the phone, her voice calm, gentle, like it always was. I didn’t really listen to what she was saying, just the sound of it, familiar and steady.

From the kitchen counter, I could hear Danish bhaiya and Akaay bhaiya laughing about something. I didn’t know what it was, but it made me smile anyway, because their laughter always sounded like something good.

Everything felt… warm and safe. Like nothing could go wrong here. I leaned back slightly, letting my head rest against the couch. Just for a second to breathe.

And then, Something didn’t feel right. It wasn’t pain. Not exactly. Just… something strange. Something heavy in my chest. I frowned a little, bringing my hand up to my mouth without really thinking, and then I coughed.Once. Twice. And suddenly, it was red. I stared at my hand. I was confused because that wasn’t supposed to be there. That wasn’t how it was supposed to look.

For a second, I didn’t understand as it didn’t make sense, my chest tightened. The room felt… different.  It was too quiet and loud. I tried to call out, “Lakshi di…” But my voice didn’t come out properly.

Everything was  blurred, the laughter from the kitchen stopped or maybe I just couldn’t hear it anymore. The next thing I knew, there were fast footsteps.

“Shristy—!” Someone yelled, maybe it was Danish bhaiya. 

My head was in Lakshi di’s lap, I don't remember when that happened or how. But her hands were on my face, my hair, everywhere, like she was trying to keep me there. “Shri… Shri, look at me,” she said, her voice shaking in a way I had never heard before.

I tried.

I really tried.

On one side, Akaay bhaiya and on the other hand, Danish bhaiya. Both of them too close and still. Not laughing anymore or saying anything. Just… there.

I wanted to tell them something. I don’t know what. Maybe that I was okay or maybe that they shouldn’t look like that. Maybe that I didn’t like the way everything suddenly felt so far away.

But I couldn’t, because my eyes were getting heavy. The last thing I saw was Lakshi didi’s face above me. She wasn’t calm or smiling like usual, she was something else, maybe scared? 

And I didn’t understand why, then everything went dark.