"You say, you always feel guilt gnawing at you," I squirmed on the sofa, feeling increasingly uneasy, while she pressed on, "have you considered why don't you try to reflect upon it?"

I let out a weary sighed, my gaze drifting out of the window looking at the calm Arabian sea and the majestic Worli Sea Link bridge. It was the first of January, my birthday and instead of indulging in celebrations, I found myself confined to my therapy session. Listening to my therapist repeat the bullshit I have uttered countless times before.

However, it's not as if I desire to celebrate this dreadful day. It used to be a day when I felt like a princess, but now it feels like I've transformed into a villain—a cold and numb queen.

I feel guilty because I can't reflect. Can't she get this in her fucking head?

I slipped my feet into a pair of elegant black pumps with red soles, Christian Louboutin's signature touch, as I rose from the couch, clutching my black handbag. "I'll see you in our next session, or perhaps not," I remarked, arching my eyebrows. She bit her lip in response, nodding silently.

With each step, my heels echoed against the polished marble floor as I approached the door, swiftly turning the handle. However, before stepping outside, I paused and faced my therapist once more. "I feel guilt because I struggle to reflect," I admitted, gratitude tinged in my voice. "Thank you for your efforts." Without sparing a glance at the panicked receptionist, I walked out and left the room behind me.

Stepping into the elevator, I retrieved my AirPods from my bag and selected a random song from my playlist. The melodic tunes of Interpol's "Untitled" filled my ears, and a silent sigh escaped me. Gradually, my heart began to ease, and the incessant whirlwind of my overthinking mind found solace in music, momentarily providing a welcome distraction.

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ping, and I stepped out, heading towards my sleek Satin Jet Black Aston Martin DB11 coupe. Sliding into the luxurious interior, I removed my AirPods, the song seamlessly transitioned into the car's sound system as I ignited the engine. The melodies of Untitled continued to fill the space, enveloping me in a cocoon of familiar sounds.

Anticipating my mother's call, I braced myself, fully aware that my therapist, now ex-therapist, who coincidentally is my mother's friend, would reach out to her and express her grievances about my abrupt departure and my decision to cease further visits.

In the coming week, I would find myself meeting yet another therapist, marking the eleventh one I've encountered in the span of just four months. The revolving door of therapists had become a disheartening routine.

With a strong desire to retreat to the comfort of my own space, I directed my car towards my apartment building. All I wanted was to arrive home, change into something cozy, and indulge in leisurely walks along the renowned Juhu Beach, which conveniently connected to my apartment building. Living in such proximity to the beach allowed me the freedom to stroll along its shores whenever I desired, providing a much-needed solace amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

Just as I halted at a traffic signal, my phone began to ring, indicating my mother's call. With a resigned sigh, I answered the call, mustering a polite tone. "Hello, Mamma," I greeted her.

"Hello, my dear," her tender voice welcomed me, eliciting a warm smile. "Happy birthday once more, sweetheart. It's hard to believe that my little moon has turned 23 today. I am so proud of you, my sweet, sweet daughter."

"Thank you, Mom. It means a lot to hear that I've finally managed to make you proud," I responded, a hint of disbelief lingering in my voice. Though my love for her was unwavering, I couldn't deny that there were moments when I struggled to embrace her methods and ways.

As the traffic light turned green, I swiftly pressed the accelerator, propelling my car forward. In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the metro gliding ahead on the bridge. The sight of the train always held a certain allure for me, a fascination that had remained unfulfilled since I had never actually ridden it, particularly in the bustling city of Mumbai.

Even when we aren't exactly this rich, I had never ridden a train. I was the baby who was brought home in a car.

She let out a melancholic sigh, accustomed to the hostility I had displayed on a few occasions, recognizing that arguing about it would only lead to further tension. "I heard that you decided to end your sessions with the therapist once again. Can you share with me the reason behind your decision?" she inquired, her tone tinged with irritation.

Clearing my throat, I attempted to adopt a more professional tone, mirroring her approach. "Yes, I decided to discontinue the sessions because she struggled to comprehend even the simplest of statements. Additionally, whenever I posed a question, she would deflect it back at me. I question the purpose of therapy if I am unable to obtain the answers and understanding I seek."

"I completely understand. It's good to hear a different perspective from you this time," she remarked, her words accompanied by a nod in my imagination. "we should discuss your upcoming meeting with the next therapist—"

I cut her off, "I want a break from this."

"Excuse me?" Now her voice was filled with disbelief.

"I want a break from this," I reiterated, my voice determined. "I'm tired of attending therapy and feeling like I'm not benefiting from it. Furthermore, I genuinely believe that I don't need therapy. I'm living my life just fine." Suppressing the urge to vent my frustrations through profanity, I focused on maintaining a calm tone, resisting the temptation to raise my voice.

I strongly feel that I don't require therapy, and being coerced into regular appointments every two weeks only serves to humiliate me. It gives the impression that I am desperate for therapy when, in reality, I am functioning perfectly well without it. My music, my work, my late-night drives, and my walks on the beach provide the solace and support I need.

"Baccha, I know you're living just fine. But your behaviour needs improvement hence the therapy. The people around you... especially your employees don't want a discourteous or brusque leader. Moreover I want my sweet little Shiya back—"

I could feel my anger rise as my grip on the steering wheel increased to an extent that my knuckles turned white. "It seems like we'll have this talk some other day mother. We need to end this talk before I would be considered presumptuous."

"Shiya—"

Before she could continue, I abruptly interrupted her, my voice filled with frustration. "Goodbye, Mother, and happy new year," I swiftly ended the call, feeling my jaw tense as I stared ahead at the road. Ignoring the right turn that would lead me home, I continued driving straight until the turnoff for the highway appeared.

Navigating a sharp turn, I swiftly adjusted the gear, maintaining a firm grip on the steering wheel. The familiar purr of the engine resonated in my ears as I switched off the music system, craving the raw sounds of the road. With a surge of determination, I pressed the accelerator, overtaking each car in my path as my speed steadily increased.

Swiftly changing lanes, I pushed the speedometer to 130 mph, maneuvering through the empty highway with calculated precision. However, my concentration was abruptly shattered when my ringtone blared, startling me and causing the steering wheel to veer slightly to the left. Fortunately, there were no cars in that lane, sparing me from any potential danger. Irritated by the interruption, I swiftly dismissed the call, instinctively utilizing the buttons on my steering wheel without even checking the caller ID. Gradually, I began to decrease my speed, refocusing on the road ahead.

It dawned on me that I had driven to a point where I was unfamiliar with my current location. Pulling over to the side of the road, I shifted the gear into park and activated the hazard lights. As I reached for my phone to open the navigation app, I noticed a missed call from Sid. I paused, contemplating whether or not I should return his call.

Realizing that I wasn't in the best frame of mind and that engaging in a conversation with Sid at that moment might lead to me venting my frustration on him, I let out a sigh. Deciding it would be better to call him later when I had calmed down, I made a mental note to do so. Additionally, I recalled that the purpose of his call was likely related to the school reunion we were both supposed to attend in a few hours.

I selected the destination on my navigation system, and as the route was calculated, I began driving back towards my house. Despite having lived in Mumbai for most of my life, except for the three years, I always struggled with memorizing road names and routes.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally arrived home, my mind feeling more at ease. I parked my car in my designated spot and stepped out, releasing a satisfying crack from my neck as I stretched my muscles.

The start of my day had been horrible I wondered how it will be going for the rest of the day.

Entering the elevator, I pressed the button for my floor and leaned against the wall, allowing myself a moment of respite. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, relishing the brief tranquility as I waited for the elevator to ascend.

Exiting the elevator, I opened my eyes and stepped forward with a singular purpose in mind: to collapse onto my bed and embrace the warmth of Shiloh, my golden retriever puppy, as soon as I entered my house.

However, as I approached my front door, something caught my attention. There, placed delicately, was a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Curiosity piqued, I picked up the bouquet and discovered it contained five different colored carnation flowers, each with its own vibrant hue. In the center, nestled among the carnations, was a single snowdrop flower, delicate and pristine.

Baffled by the situation, I unlocked my door and entered my home, only to be greeted by Shiloh, who took the opportunity to dart outside. Reacting quickly, I closed the door behind me, chuckling as Shiloh attempted to growl at me in protest.

Placing the bouquet of flowers on the side table near the door, I kicked off my heels and slipped into a pair of fluffy slippers, ensuring that my heels were safely stored in the shoe rack to prevent Shiloh from mistaking them for toys.

With Shiloh now in my arms, wiggling to find a comfortable position, I held the flowers in one hand and headed towards the kitchen. Carefully, I searched through the bouquet, hoping to find a card while making sure to keep the flowers out of Shiloh's reach.

Unable to find a card, I took a moment to inhale the fragrance of the flowers, closing my eyes and savoring the blissful scent. Placing Shiloh back on the floor, I watched as he scampered away, his attention quickly captured by something else.

Deciding to place the bouquet in a pot, I carefully arranged the flowers and found a suitable spot for them. With that done, I picked up my phone and began searching for the significance of the different carnations.

As I delved into the meanings, I was taken aback by what I discovered. White carnations symbolized purity and luck, light red carnations represented admiration, while dark red carnations symbolized love and affection. Pink carnations symbolized gratitude, yellow carnations symbolized disappointment and rejection, and purple carnations symbolized capriciousness.

However, what truly shook me to my core was learning that carnations were the Korean birth flower for January, my birth month. The worst part was yet to come—the snowdrop flower, nestled amidst the carnations, represented hope and was associated with the destinies of those born on January 1st.

The realization left me astounded, contemplating the hidden messages behind the bouquet of flowers that had been left at my doorstep.

And I knew who exactly sent it.

One Of Million Little Things I'm Grateful for,
0.009 Aston Martin DB11
0.008 Shiloh
0.007 My apartment

+++

Happy new year everyone! 

And happy birthday to Shiya and me!

Nobody is failing to remind me how I'm in my last year of teen now 🥺