I wanted to call Siddarth and ask what the fuck is this guy doing?

The weight of the situation settles in as I exit the article about the collaboration. Conflicting thoughts swirl in my mind, unsure of whether this K-pop idol's involvement is meant to sever or mend the connections between the siblings. I contemplate reaching out to Siddharth, her brother, to gain some clarity on the matter.

What were they thinking, exposing her to someone from her past, someone who may have played a significant role in her struggles?

The frustration intensifies as I grapple with the desire to call Shiya and check on her well-being. However, the fear of overwhelming her in her vulnerable state holds me back. She may not be handling the news well, and I know that bombarding her with calls might not be the best approach.

The rational part of me understands the importance of waiting for her to reach out or addressing the situation during our next therapy session. But patience is a luxury I'm not sure I possess right now. The uncertainty of the circumstances makes me restless, and the worry for her consumes my thoughts.

"Fuck, I am gonna go crazy," I mutter to myself, my frustration palpable. The minutes tick away, and I make a futile attempt to set a mental deadline – 15 minutes until I can stop thinking about her. But deep down, I acknowledge the impossibility of that task. Concentration eludes me, my mind continuously pulled back to the tumultuous events of the day before.

I keep my phone down and scribble few words in my diary as I wait for my next patient to come. glancing down at my watch I murmur to myself, "15 minutes more, then no more thinking of her."

That's impossible, I won't be able to concentrate today.

Unable to quell the restlessness, I lean forward and reach for the landline, dialing my assistant's number. The surprise in her voice is evident as I ask her to cancel the rest of my sessions for the day. A moment of stammering, then a hesitant agreement. I hang up, feeling a mix of relief and guilt for disrupting the day's schedule.

As I pack up my belongings, my mind remains fixated on the article and the unintended consequences of the collaboration. The revelation that I played a role in Shiya's desperate act haunts me.

That evening, after returning from the church, my emotions overwhelmed me, and tears flowed freely. The realization that the woman I love with every fiber of my being had attempted suicide because of me cut deep.

I never intended for my actions to lead her to such a desperate state. My hand reached out not to encourage such a grave mistake but to offer support, a genuine desire to help her through her struggles. Admittedly, there was a selfish element too – a longing to keep her close, to be a comforting presence in her life.

Understanding that she may never reciprocate my feelings, especially now that I know she harbors love for someone else, adds another layer of pain.

She loves him so fiercely that she is willing to endure physical and mental anguish to shield him from getting hurt by her again.

In the face of such selfless devotion, I can only salute that love.

Yet, as I grapple with my own emotions and the consequences of our intertwined destinies, I acknowledge the bittersweet reality that the love I hold may forever remain unrequited. I know she will never come to love me, especially now since I know that she loves someone else.

With each step, I carry the weight of love unreturned, the burden of guilt, and the determination to be a pillar of support in her tumultuous journey. The story of our intertwined destinies continues to unfold, and only time will reveal the intricate tapestry of emotions that weaves us together in this complex dance of life.

As I open the door, I am surprised by the view in front of me, by the person standing in front of me.

"Hi," she says, flashing me a beautiful smile that has me feeling my heart beating against my ribcage. "I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't know anyone else-"

"Hey, relax," I rest my hand on her shoulders as I pass a reassuring smile to her. "I am always here for you." she looks up at me with surprise.

"Really? do you mean it?" she asks with hesitancy present in her voice as she glances down at my bag in my hand. "oh you are leaving. Shit I came at the wrong time, I should've called."

"That's completely alright, I was just leaving for the day."

Because you've invaded my thoughts so bad that I can't even concentrate now.

I watch her chew her lower lip anxiously, most probably overthinking about something. Not being able to stop my hand, my fingers pull her lower lip out of the grip of her teeth.

"Don't overthink much, shall we get something to eat? I'm starving and there's an amazing food truck outside the hospital with the best waffles and milkshakes."

"Milkshakes?" she asks so innocently while glancing up at me with the cutest puppy eyes that my heart melts. I nod while smiling at her as I let go of her lip.

+++

She moaned in delight, fucking moaned that got my cock to twitch in my pants.

I tried to ignore, but when I saw her licking her lips I knew I was gonna take a cold shower when I would get home.

"I take it you like that." I say as I take a bite of my waffles while looking at her. She stared at me for few seconds with an unreadable expression then nodded.

I remain silent for a while thinking if I should ask her what had her come here so abruptly. "It only gets worse you know. It's unbelievable that even when I am independent, I have others controlling my life. Today I had to have lunch with him, it felt awful." she says as she sighs.

"Why? Do you hate him?" I asked. I wanted to know what had gone down between them. Why does Shiya keep running away from him?

Who's fault is it in their relationship.

"I do not hate him, no. Hate is the wrong word to describe what I feel for him. What I feel for him to beyond my abilities to even describe it." I take the final bite of the waffles as I stare at her, trying to think how shall I talk to her, to get the information I want from her.

"you know, we often feel things that are actually, what you said, beyond our abilities to name them. In textbook language it is called-"

"ineffable," she finishes my sentence, a wistful smile playing on her lips as if she's relieved to find someone who understands. "The human experience is so complex, isn't it? Sometimes words simply fail to capture the depth of our emotions."

I nod in agreement, intrigued by her response. It seems she's willing to engage in a deeper conversation, which might lead me closer to the information I seek. "Exactly," I reply, leaning forward slightly. "And yet, despite our limitations in expressing these feelings, they still shape our actions and relationships in profound ways."

"But I want to know what I feel for him now. After loosing him two years ago, I thought I could never get over him. But when I saw him today I was confused, I wanted to run away from him, yet pull him closer and never let him go again."

Who knew it would be so difficult to see the love of your life talk about some other man like that.

"it can be described as trying to contain an ocean within a teacup. No matter how much we try, there's always an overflow, a spillage of emotion that defies containment." I explain gently as I stand up from my wooden chair.

"So, tell me," I inquire gently, "those ineffable feelings started after you saw him in the club that day? Or was it always there?"

Her silence speaks volumes, punctuating the air with a palpable tension as she straightens herself, her eyes betraying a hint of uncertainty mixed with a flicker of longing. I wait patiently, sensing the weight of her unspoken words hanging between us like a delicate thread.

Finally, she exhales softly, her breath hitching slightly as if releasing a pent-up emotion. "It's complicated," she murmurs, her voice barely audible above the distant hum of the traffic. "I suppose you could say it was always there, simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt."

And that's me, just standing here and waiting for you. 

+++

I always love these conversations between Shiya and Atharva, it's like I have an unsaid burden lifted off my shoulders. 

These conversations and their feelings (Shiya, Atharva, Dalhyun) is the reason I started this book. They are me and my life described, how it is and how I want it to be. 

A Million Little Things, is gonna get the ending it deserves. It's not about the ending Shiya deserves or Atharva or Dalhyun. But this story, their lives. 

Now hurry up, the last update for tonight...