Sonder To Ikigai - The Freedom in Love.

✨Fang✨

Fang - meaning 'The first star of the room'. (1)

Here's the first chapter!!! A fair warning, there will be a few mentions of uncomfortable things. This is 100% Fiction, characters, and storyline! Thank you! Love to everyone!

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What was life like, happy? Joyful? Smiling. Actually smiling. Sana Kaur Dhillon didn't know. She didn't know at all. She lost touch with life. She lived dead now. She breathed. She ate. She drank water. She walked the suppressing roads of Mohali. She just signed off her childhood home to a stranger for a huge sum of money. There wasn't an ounce of regret in her as she did. The ones who lived in it, the ones whose blood that ran through her veins and seeped out of her wrists quite often, they never wanted her. They gave her away as a child. And then she was put in an orphanage. She didn't know why. She had heard around that she had a little brother. She even knew his name. She refused to say it out loud. So now, the bitterness left her body. Nothing tied her down to her awful childhood anymore. She had a car waiting for her, her luggage packed up in the trunk. She sat in the car, her earphones in her ears as the driver drove her to the airport. She looked up at the sky, it was bright.

"I'm sorry." She whispered and then within seconds, plugged her earphones into her ears. Her wrists stung. She smiled at the feeling and sighed in contentment. She closed her eyes and laid her head back, letting sleep overtake her.

Siddharth Singh Sathraj sat in the lounge, the expensive lounge. He had worked hard enough for the past 38 years to have earned him good enough money to run away. He opened up his wallet and looked at the picture of the woman in the silver hair. She smiled up at him. He scoffed and closed it and shoved it back into his pocket. Maybe things would get better. A girl recognized him, very hesitantly smiled, and waved. He simply nodded, making it clear that it was all he could do. He had nothing to give anymore.

His hands shook with want. He snorted. Like an absolute idiot, with a hope that it would help him feel it again. He opened his eyes instead and picked up the paper cup and gulped in the hot bitter liquid. He wanted it to burn him more. He looked down at his knuckles. There were disgusting dried up blood clots on it. He tried to clean the splits but left them halfway. He liked it.

His eyes ran over the people. And they paused on a girl. She looked young. And curvy. So enticingly hot. She bought coffee. Just like him. Black. He noticed how she didn't bother picking up packets of sugar. She took less than 2 minutes to start gulping it down. Just like him. As if it wasn't burning her. It was hot outside. He wondered why she wore such a heavy sweater. A guy stared her down, lust blurred his sight. He watched before he made a judgment. He expected her to look away and cower, like a lot of other girls he had seen.

But she didn't. She stuck her middle finger up, showing it to him and put it in her wide-opened mouth and gagged in disgust. His face morphed into pure shock and disgust. That was insulting. So bloody insulting. She didn't say one single word and she shut him down. He couldn't help but laugh, loudly. She looked at him. And then sipped on her coffee and raised an eyebrow. She looked him up and down, he was hot. She couldn't deny it. She smirked at him. He raised his cup in cheers and she did the same.

Strangers were good, he thought. They didn't know stories. They didn't know the soul. They knew the face. Strangers were fresh. And fresh was what he needed. He picked on the dried and clotted blood in his knuckles. It stung. So well. He cracked his neck and breathed in deeply. A snort would have felt so good now. Or a drag.

"Fucking airports." He muttered under his breath. She watched him intently. Every action of his. Even the bloodied knuckles. She pulled a strip of gum from her bag and threw it at him. It fell at his feet. He looked up in confusion.