Destined ✓

29 - Miss you, miss me

Avni's POV

I once loved waking up early in the mornings.

When I had school to attend, not because I was happy to meet teachers and listen to lectures but friends. Life was always better with friends. Friends make you forget your problems, even if not, they make it seem less worrisome.

Another, when I had work, shooting, it was always exciting for me to go and engage in something I always loved. My love for acting was since my childhood. I used to jump around like I was in a sci-fi movie, a spy or even an assassin. It seemed dangerous and exciting to me.

Killing the bad guys, was my aim. But as I grew up, I understood how it was. No one was either bad or good. People always had both in them.

Like him, he was a great father to me. A very loving, accepting and funny one. We used to team up and order pizza, without mom's permission. Then the consequences, a scolding for us. But eventually, she didn't mind as much. I, later, understood her.

When Abhay was born, the motherly instincts kicked in. We had a huge age gap so the siblings' fight never came in. I wanted to protect him and love him and shower him with care. He was almost like a child to me. But, that didn't last long. I didn't get more time with him.

The time was taken away from me.

And the one who took it away was him.

The image of a caring, loving father withered away slowly. The lines between my love for him and the resentment that I felt, seemed to blur. I didn't know anymore. That was the hardest time of my life.

I didn't know how to function properly. I hated myself. I hated myself, without my little brother. And this affected my other relationships too. My friends, my family and my best friend who eventually became my boyfriend.

"Avni, what are you doing to yourself?"

"Avi, please talk to me."

"Avni, please let us know you're fine?"

I remember these messages, and a lot more I received, the ones that I forgot. I grew apart with my friends and Vivaan, him, I hurt him without intending to.

The only way was to run away. From them, my emotions and the truth. The truth that there was no more tugging to my shirt, no more puppy eyes to convince me to play, no more cheek kisses that made me smile eye to eye. No one could replace him.

I didn't know I had tears flowing down my cheeks. The photograph that I tightly clutched to my chest, one where I had him in my arms with the widest grin on my face and he was touching my face with curiosity in his doe eyes. He was three, I was fifteen something. We were playing in the backyard, mostly me swaying him back and forth in my arms and he was giggling and laughing. We had a camera and Dad, clicked a picture.

The only heart-wrenching thing is, I don't call him Dad anymore, and Abhay is only there in the photographs, I have stored.

"I miss you, baby." I caress the photograph in my hands, a smile on my face, pained.

Nowadays, I dread waking up in the mornings. Because I feel helpless with only an arm working.

This, too, shall pass.