My thoughts swerved and derailed and crashed, turning into one colossal explosion. I had never explained to anyone what exactly happened to me. Some things I liked keeping close to my heart. Close to the damn thing that nearly ruined me.

It was nearing nine thirty. I was supposed to shut shop and head to the gym. But I couldn't move from the bench in the staff's locker room. I had paced and wrung my fingers and pulled out my hair. My watch beeped. Loud and shrill. One twenty-five beats per minute. I wasn't even doing anything.

A laugh bubbled from me.

Such a fucking hypocrite.

I'd said so much to Beck, like I was some fucking licensed expert in dishing out advice. Who did I turn to? Even now, who did I turn to? When I passed out on my bed in a pool of my tears and vomit, who knew about that? No one. I picked myself up and pretended all was good with life, and then came back to my room, only to repeat the same cycle of sorrow.

I dialled his number and looked at the time again. It was nine-thirty-five here, which meant ten o'five in the morning there. He would probably be at home, with the news on and a late breakfast in hand. Clarissa would still be asleep. My mom with her crossword, switching her attention between the paper and the TV.

I slipped off the bench and crouched on my heels, my head between my knees as I tried to breathe. Tried to get my heart rate down. My watch beeped again. Damnit. Panic strangled me. I grabbed the bench behind me to keep me from collapsing.

Why was I scared? He was my father. We shared the same blood. My DNA was made up of his.

The dial stopped, and I heard his voice. "Hello?"

I clenched my eyes shut and pushed to my feet. "Hey, daddy," I choked out. One breath. Two. "It's Neil."

"Neelu! Baaba, how are you?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

I rarely called home these days. Most of my excuses consisted of too busy or too tired or gotta study, but I just couldn't talk to my parents and pretend everything was alright. Pretend that I was doing okay here. Pretend that seeing Arya making it big didn't hurt my soul.

I couldn't even remember the last time my father and I sat down and really talked to each other. When I visited for the summer, I spent most of my time outside, roaming the streets of Mumbai, or locked in my room, trying to quell the feeling of shame.

With each breath, my lungs ached like someone was tearing out fistfuls of bronchioles from it. My watch beeped. "I'm not—I'm not okay, daddy."

There it was. The truth.

I fell to the bench, all the energy drained out of me.

"What? Baaba, what happened? Are you okay? Is there a problem?" I heard my mother in the background, asking to hand the phone over. Speaking over him. Asking if I wanted to come back home. He told her to calm down, then I heard the slide of a door.

He was on the balcony. Alone.

"Talk to me, Neelu."

My eyes were overflowing with tears. I couldn't even see straight. "I'm tired of feeling sad all the time. I thought by now, the pain should reduce, right? But it's like I'm still in the doctor's office, listening to that same diagnosis over and over again. I can't... I can't sleep at night. Sometimes, I can't concentrate in class. Every time I keep thinking, if only I held it in. If only I somehow managed through the dizziness and took a break on the pitch. Maybe I could've been there now. I could've been playing for our country. I could've made you and amma so proud. I—"

"How long do you think you could've kept going? Hmm?"

I silently wailed into my palm, rocking back and forth.

"Baaba, the signs were always there. The chest pains. The sudden giddiness. Even as a baby, you weren't able to gain weight till you were five years old. Your heartbeat was always so high. You would keep crying. You wouldn't eat. The doctors we took you to, all said it was normal, it was just you being fussy. They said with time, it would all be okay. It was our fault, we—"

"No. No. It's not." I wiped my nose with my wrist. "It's not fair to you guys. I know you had hopes for me. Expectations. You spent so much money on my training. You came to see my matches. It's not fair. I know you expected me to bring our family up. I disappointed you. I failed you. I'm so, so sorry."

"What are you talking about?" He laughed. "You're talking as if I need to sell the house tomorrow to pay off our debts. Stupid, we're more than financially comfortable. Your amma and I earn enough to sustain her and your sister's explosive spending urges every month. Don't worry about money. Disappointed? Who did you disappoint? Eh? Did I ever tell you I was disappointed? Did amma tell you? Who is putting these things in your head? We're so proud of you, Neelu. You didn't even go to school for your eleventh and twelfth grade, yet you were able to get eighty-five percent in your finals. You worked so hard on your SOPs and college applications by yourself. And you're financing your own education! How many people can say they picked themselves up just months after their careers came to a standstill? Hmm? We're so so proud of you, Baaba. I can go out and say yes, my son, Neil, he made it. He found a new passion, and he is pursuing it, and I support him however he needs me to."

My sobbing turned to keening. My body trembled as all the anguish I'd held in for so long slowly slipped out of me. I wished my father was there beside me, where he could wrap me in his arms and hold me like I was a little boy.

"Never forget that. I thought—Your amma, and I thought you wanted time for yourself. That's why we didn't push you for anything. If I knew such thoughts were spiralling in your head, I would've dragged you out a long time ago. You're my son, Neelu. I love you no matter what. No matter what you do, no matter where you go, I love you and I will always love you."

My breath hitched, and my fingers dug into my knee.

"Do you remember when we used to watch those cartoons together? You used to climb into my lap and just sit there. I always placed a hand on your chest and counted your heartbeat. I used to beg the Lord to keep you safe. All I wanted was for my little boy to stay happy and healthy."

I sniffled. "I thought you said you and the Big Guy had issues."

"Oh yes, we do. But every moment your heart skipped a beat, I shamelessly ran straight to him to demand for your good health."

I barked a single, tragic laugh. "Do you remember when we used to draw together?"

He went silent. The wind's gentle whistles filled the air, amplifying the weight of the unspoken words hanging between us. Doubts crept into my mind. I wondered if he had truly heard me, and I braced myself for a change of topic.

"Those are my favourite memories," he said. "My most cherished memories."

My chin quivered. "Why did you never invite me again, then?"

"Neelu, I thought you weren't interested anymore. You were always so busy with cricket and then school, I didn't want to disturb you. You grew up. There were no more cartoons. And you—" My father, known for never getting his words mixed up, choked and fumbled with his sentences. "I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you space to be yourself."

My heart kicked. "I still draw. I started again."

"Yeah? Then maybe the next time you come here, you can join me in the morning, hmm?"

"They're not as good as yours. I keep trying to replicate your style and the ease with which you fill in the portraits, but I don't think I can ever get there."

"No, child. You look for perfection. I just move my fingers to make a portrait your amma can see and not gag on. I don't care about the specifics. But, you? You're sharp. You see details none of us catch. It is that micro-detailing which makes you such a perfect artist. It's a good thing you have your amma's brain. Unfortunately, you have my social skills, so things might be a little hard there."

I laughed, squishing a tear on my chin. "So when I visit the next time, we can draw together?"

"Obviously. Now that you said I don't invite you, I'm going to stand over your bed every morning at six and haul you by the neck."

"Yes. Please do that. Drag Clarissa as well. That girl is sleeping too much. I don't like it."

"You can take that chore. I'm growing old, and my gut has received enough kicks already."

We both burst into laughter, and I cherished the way we were able to laugh freely around each other, not worrying about an impending doomsday conversation hanging over our heads.

"I used to draw you all the time when you were a baby," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Come home, I'll show you. Whenever you were sleeping in your crib, I used to sit beside and draw you sleeping on your favourite toy and drooling all over it. Even when you took your first steps, I took a picture and tried sketching that. Then there's one of you pulling your sister's hair. I will have to dig through the storeroom to find those sketchbooks. There are many."

"I'd love that."

"So, all good now, Baaba?"

I nodded and with a shaky voice said, "For now, yes."

"Take care, Neelu. And call more often. Call your sister, too. She was complaining that you never talk to her."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell her to stay awake for more than two hours, then I can talk. That Kumbakarni wants to sleep every time I call her, what can I do?"

"I will pass on the message diligently."

"Pull her hair for me, too."

"We'll see. Okay, Baaba, you carry on. We'll talk again soon."

"Bye, Daddy. Love you."

I melted against the lockers behind me. It felt like a leaden weight had been lifted from my chest. I could breathe easy again. After so long, I wished I was home in India, where I could give my father a proper hug. He and I never talked a lot. This was probably the longest we'd ever spoken. He was a man of very few words, but when he did speak, he made his words count.

I exhaled a long and heavy breath and stood up. I was about to grab my bag when I heard a loud bang. My phone fell from my fingers and clattered to the floor as I jumped, whipping around, ready to karate chop whoever broke in.

"Oh shit. Shit. Fuck. I'm so sorry." Beck scrambled to where my phone had slid to and bent to retrieve it.

"Why are you here?" I snatched my phone from him and stared as he turned four shades redder. "You were supposed to leave an hour ago."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I was waiting for you to finish your call." He hitched his bag strap higher on his shoulder. "Was that your dad?"

I watched him in bewilderment. What was this dude up to? "Mmm hmm."

"Right, right, thought so."

I raised my brows.

"Oh shit. I wasn't eavesdropping or anything." He spread open his palm between us to show the AirPods lying on it. "See, I was minding my own business."

"It's not like you could've understood anything. I wasn't even talking in English."

"No, I know. But you were switching to English sometimes, so I was just giving you the privacy. Also, what language is that?"

"Konkani. Beck, is there a reason you're here? If anyone finds out you are still here, my job is on the line."

"Right, right. So you remember Diego, right?"

"No."

"Oh, wow. That was quick. Anyway, he invited me to a football friendly they're having tomorrow. The stadium is open for all on Sundays, so a lot of people are coming to play. It'll be fun."

I scoffed. He couldn't be serious. "And you're thinking of playing?" I crossed my arms. "In this condition?"

"No. I said, I'll bring you to complete the team." He bounced on the balls of his feet, swinging back and forth.

I grabbed my bag from the bench, turned off the lights, and left the room. Beck followed me. I ushered him out of the centre and ignored his constant jabbering about how I'll have a good time if I go or how they were all nice people or how I needed to let people know I exist.

I pulled down the shutter and gave him a look that had him shut up.

"Okay. I'll see you at the stadium tomorrow, then," I said.

A slow smile soon consumed the entirety of his face. It lit up his eyes and brought a sort of glow to his face that I wanted to capture on paper. This was how he was supposed to be. Smiling and happy. It had been so long since I'd seen him leave from here without a million thoughts running through his pretty head. A fluttery feeling situated itself in the pits of my stomach.

I had put that smile there.