Alisha

Day 8

When I stepped out from my in morning, the cool breeze carried the faint aroma of fresh parathas and steaming tea. To my surprise, a buffet spread had been laid out on the dining table—an unusual sight so early in the day. Papa and Jayant were arranging plates, their hands moving with a quiet ease as though they’d been awake for hours.

Papa noticed me first. His eyes softened  and walked over. “Good morning, beta,” he said warmly.

I slipped into his side hug, resting for a brief second against the familiar comfort of him. “Good morning,” I whispered back, my voice still touched with sleep.

It was then my gaze caught Jayant. A flicker of surprise rushed through me. “Jayant? You’re here? Kab aaye tum?”

Before he could answer, Sumit—busy scrolling on his phone—looked up with a smirk. “Arre, yeh gaya hi kab tha jo aayega? He’s been here since yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” I frowned, confused.

Sumit chuckled, correcting himself. “Actually, the day before. Parso se.”

The realization startled me, but before I could dwell on it, Jayant spoke, his voice laced with casual affection that disarmed me. “Alisha, first eat. Tell me how the food is.”

He pulled me gently toward the dining table. I sat down, half amused, half bewildered, as he served me like a child—placing dishes one after another before me. Each bite he offered came with that unspoken insistence, as though ensuring I didn’t miss even a single flavor.

I was mid-bite when he leaned closer, his tone suddenly playful. “Aalu, how about a movie today?”

I paused, swallowing. “A movie? But what’s even playing right now? Nothing worth watching, I’m sure.”

Jayant’s lips curved into a smile that made my chest tighten. “There is something worth watching. A really good one.”

I tilted my head, searching his face. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. Then, with a mischievous glint, he scooped up another bite and held it near my lips. Before I could protest, he slipped it gently into my mouth.

In that moment, between his laughter and the taste of food he insisted I share with him, I realized it wasn’t about the buffet or the movie at all—it was about him making sure I didn’t drift away, even for a heartbeat.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

We are in  theater. Jayant returned from the counter, tickets in his hand, his other palm is covered with thin bandage, a  fresh cut.

I frowned, reaching for his hand instinctively. “What happened to your hand? How did you get this?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second—too brief for most to notice, but not for me. “Oh, this?” he said lightly, forcing a casual shrug. “Just… while cooking. Nothing serious.”

“Really?” I narrowed my eyes, but he only gave me that practiced half-smile, the one that always hid more than it revealed.

I let it slide, for the moment. “This movie won’t run too long, right? I have to go to Dip’s wedding after this.”

The way his shoulders stiffened was almost imperceptible. He froze in place just as the ticket collector reached for our passes.

“Ticket, please,” the man said.

I automatically reached for Jayant’s hand, slipping the tickets from his grip. My eyes flicked down at them—and then stopped. The date printed there blurred for a heartbeat before my mind registered it.

The wedding had already happened. Yesterday.

My lips parted as a strange chill washed over me. “Dip’s wedding…” I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling. “It was yesterday.”

“Ma’am, please step forward,” the ticket collector said.

But Jayant didn’t move. Instead, he tightened his hold on my hand and gently steered me away from the crowd, into a quieter corner of the theater’s lobby. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was steady—like an anchor.

“What happened yesterday, Jayant? Why can’t I remember?” My voice cracked.

He cupped my face softly, his thumb brushing my cheek as if the gesture itself could soothe me. “Shhh… nothing happened. Nothing you need to worry about,” he whispered.

But my gaze drifted back to his hand, to the cut that stood out against his skin. My chest tightened. “Did I… did I do this to you? Yesterday?”

“No,” he said immediately, his voice firmer now. “Absolutely not.”

“Then tell me.” My voice sharpened,  “Tell me what happened. What i did? ”

He faltered, his eyes darkening with something I couldn’t name. “Yesterday we… we just went out. Nothing else.”

“I went to Dip’s wedding?” I snapped, my tone breaking.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “yes, you did.”

“Stop it, Jayant.” The words spilled out before I could stop them, my throat burning. “You can’t lie to me. Not about this.”

I turned and stormed out of the theater, My legs gave way before I could make it far, and I sank onto a low step, tears already blurring my vision.

A moment later, Jayant was there, kneeling on the ground in front of me. “Alisha, please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry. Please don’t.”

“I hurt you,” I sobbed, clutching my temples. “I hate myself. I hate this illness.”

“Hey…hey” His hands framed my face again, steady and warm despite my shaking. “Listen to me. What happened yesterday doesn’t matter. You don’t remember, I don’t remember either—yesterday doesn’t exist anymore. All we have is today, and tomorrow, and the days after.”

And then he pulled me into his arms. His hug was fierce and trembling all at once, like he was holding me together while barely holding himself upright. In that moment, the theater, the crowd, the forgotten hours—everything vanished. There was only his heartbeat, steady against my ear, and his quiet vow echoing between us: that no matter what yesterday held, he wasn’t letting me go.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

Jayant dropped me off near my house and parked for a moment. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he said quietly.

I caught a glimpse of his face as he spoke. He was sad—truly sad—the kind of sadness that doesn’t need words. Something in his eyes made my chest tighten.

I climbed the stairs slowly and walked straight into my room, feeling a strange heaviness settle over me. My father said something from the living room, but his voice blurred. I couldn’t hear him; or maybe I didn’t want to. I just needed to lie down.

The bed felt cold under me. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what had happened—really happened. Every time I reached for the memory, it slipped through my fingers like sand. This was exactly why I had never wanted to tell Jayant about my illness. My tumor. My symptoms. I knew, deep down, that one day I might hurt him. And I also knew he’d never leave me—not even if I begged him to.

I was trying to sleep when my father’s voice drifted in softly: “Alisha…”

I sat up quickly, wiping away the tears before he could see. “Haan, Papa.”

He stepped into the room, his eyes full of a quiet worry. “Don’t get up, beta. Rest.” he said gently.

“Papa…” My voice trembled. “Yesterday, I hurt you both, didn’t I?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, softly but without lying, he said, “Yes. Very badly.”

Something inside me shattered. I clutched at my chest, as if I could hold myself together. “I knew this would happen,” I whispered. “I know my condition. My symptoms. And I knew—if it came to this—I would hurt Jayant. Because he would never let me go, Papa. Not even if I begged him.” My throat burned, and the tears spilled anyway.

“Woh tumhe aise akela chhod ke to nahin jayega,” Papa said quietly.

("He won't leave you alone in this situation.")

“I know,” I whispered, turning my face away. “That’s what I’ve always been afraid of.”

He reached over and took my trembling hand in his, his touch warm but heavy. “You’re not happy? That he’s here now, beside you?”

I took a shaky breath. “I am happy, Papa. So happy,” I said, my voice breaking under the weight of it. “And it’s this happiness that’s making me hold on to life—when I don’t want to. Because I know… I know I don’t have many days left with him. So why should I live each day with a false hope I can’t hold?”

Papa looked at me with a softness that only made my chest ache more. “What if Jayant makes that hope real?” he said quietly.

“Please, Papa…Ab nahi, jab mene apni taqdeer accept kar li ho.” My voice was small, almost a plea, and I shook my head, unable to take in that kind of dream.

(“Please, Papa…not now, when I have accepted my fate.”)

He gave me a small, sad smile, as if to soften the moment. “Alright, leave all this,” he murmured. he asked, almost cautiously, “Will you go to Dip’s reception tonight?”

I gave him a broken smile. “No, Papa. I wanted to see their wedding, not this. Not the reception. Now… it doesn’t matter.”

“But why?” he asked. “You wanted to be part of Dip’s happiness.”

“I should have been at Dip’s wedding…
I really wanted to attain. Yes,” I whispered. “Because that happiness was never written for me. I thought… maybe if I couldn’t have it, I could at least borrow it. Live it through others.”

My chest tightened. “Papa, there was a time… when I wanted it too. Marriage. Love. A life with someone who was mine. But the man I loved—he loved someone else. And my dream died before it could ever breathe.”

I drew in a shaky breath, the words spilling out like a confession. “When I learned about my tumor, I suddenly wanted to complete them all. I thought… if I could just see Jayant and Shreya’s wedding before I die, maybe I could leave this world quietly, in peace. But Jayant never agreed to marry. Then when Dip announced his wedding, I was happy again. I knew Bhumika from before. I wanted to see two people who loved each other become one. The love I never had, I wanted to witness it fulfilled in someone else. But now… it’s over."
I covered my face with trembling hands. "Seeing everyone happy, Maybe then, when my end came, I could go quietly. Without regret."

Papa looked at me like a man struck by lightning—stunned, hollow, unable to breathe. I don’t think he had ever imagined that his daughter once dreamed of marriage, of a life she would never have.

And in that silence, something inside me finally gave way. I realized I wasn’t just dying of this tumor. I had already been dying, piece by piece, the day my dreams slipped away.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

After Papa left, I just lay there on my bed… silent, unmoving. The ceiling above me blurred into nothingness as a thousand thoughts stormed my mind. Jayant had left everything — his work, his life — just to come here for me.
He said he would save me. But save me from what? From death? From destiny?

I wanted to believe him — I really did. But how could I?
Papa said the same thing to Maa once. That he would save her.
Did he? No.
No one ever wins against death.

A small ache pulsed through my chest as I thought — what will happen to Jayant after I’m gone?
He’s already broken things off with Shreya… and now he’s here, trying to fix a life that’s slowly fading away — mine.

My thoughts broke when I heard his voice from behind. “Alisha.”
I turned, startled.

“What are you doing? You’re not ready yet?” he asked.

“Ready? For what?” I asked, almost blank.

He opened my cupboard, pulled out a crimson lehenga, and held it out to me. “Here, wear this.”

“Jayant… what is this? I’m not wearing it,” I said, refusing softly.

He smiled faintly. “Why? It’s beautiful.”

“This was meant for Dip’s wedding,” I whispered.

“So what? Today’s his reception. Nothing will happen if you wear it.”

“Jayant…”

“Aalu…” he said in the same tone — steady, patient, the kind of tone that always wins. And like every time before, I lost to his quiet persistence.

So I wore it.

As we left, Papa smiled at me from the table — as if he too wanted me to go, to live one last evening without the weight of tomorrow.

Jayant was driving, and I couldn’t stop watching him. The way the golden streetlight brushed across his face, his white kurta glowing faintly — he looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
“kaisi lag rahi hu?” I asked suddenly.

("How do I look?")

He glanced at me, then chuckled, “Thodi Bimar lag rahi ho, aur yeh dark circles...”
“Sundar lag rahi hu ya nahi,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes.

("A little sick… those dark circles—"

"Just tell me if I look beautiful or not")

then said softly, “Thodi kam Sundar lag rahi ho, tumhe rona aur stress lena kam karna chahiye.”

("A little less beautiful. You should cry and stress less")

I glared. “Tumse pucha hi kyu mene.” I turned away, looking out the window.

("Why do I even bother asking you?")

his voice turned serious. "Subah tum bahut khubsurat lag rahi thi — na koi tension tha, na stress. Aankhon mein chamak thi, hotho par muskaan thi. Tum tab sabse zyada khubsurat lagti ho jab tum khush hoti ho. Lekin ab sirf udaasi hai… aur usmein tum bilkul achhi nahi lagti."

("You looked so beautiful that morning—no tension, no stress, just a sparkle in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You’re most beautiful when you’re happy. But right now, there’s only sadness… and it doesn’t suit you at all.")

“You’ve never complimented me like this before,” I said softly.

He smiled faintly. “Because you never asked me before.”

Something about the way he said it… made my chest tighten. Jayant had changed — or maybe I was just seeing him differently now.

When we arrived at the venue, the sound of laughter and chatter wrapped around us. Walking beside him, step for step, felt strangely comforting — like I was finally getting what I want my entire life.

Then, suddenly, the dhols began to beat outside. I was holding Jayant’s hand when Dip’s mother appeared, smiling warmly. “Come beta, let's dance!”

Before I could even process what she meant, Rishi appeared, grabbed my other hand, and said, “Come on, Alisha, the baraat is going out!”

“Baraat?” I repeated, confused.

“Yes! Let’s go!” he said, pulling me along.

Jayant’s hand slipped from mine. He didn’t stop me. He just smiled — that same peaceful, distant smile.

“Rishi, what’s happening? The wedding already happened yesterday, right?” I asked.

He was dancing, laughing, not meeting my eyes. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Then why another baraat?”

He smiled, spinning me once, “we wanted to do it again.”

And before I could ask more, Dip came close, took my hand, and said,
“Alisha, enjoy it. Enjoy every bit of this life. Live freely. We’re all here with you.”

“Dip, what do you mean?” I asked, feeling a strange weight in his words.

He smiled, eyes glistening. “If your dreams ever remain incomplete… don’t give up. Tell your friends — they’ll try to complete them for you.”

I froze. His words echoed something I didn’t want to understand.

I looked around — at Dip, at Rishi, at everyone — all smiling at me with a kind of affection that felt final.
And then… I saw Jayant.

He stood far away, watching me quietly.
Just watching. Like he wanted to memorize this — my face, my smile — before it faded.

I didn’t think anymore.
I just danced. With Rishi. With Dip. With everyone who loved me. And for a few precious moments… I forgot about death.
I forgot about pain.
I just lived — like I would’ve wanted me to.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

The baraat finally reached Bhumika’s house. Music, laughter, and chaos filled the air — everyone was dancing, glowing under the fairy lights. I had been dancing too, without stopping, until my body began to ache and my breath came in uneven gasps.

Jayant appeared beside me, holding out a glass of water.
“Drink,” he said softly.

I took it from him, drank quickly, and smiled faintly. He then handed me a small plate with food. “Eat something,” he said, his voice almost like a command but wrapped in concern.

I took a few bites just to please him, and then he placed a tablet in my hand. “Your medicine,” he reminded.

I swallowed it without protest.  As soon as I was done, I started walking back toward the crowd. The drums were beating again, the night alive with celebration. I turned back to him and asked, “You’re not coming?”
He smiled. “Are you inviting me?”
“Yes,” I said, extending my hand toward him.

His eyes softened as he reached for it — and the next moment, we were both in the crowd again, our hands intertwined, the world spinning in rhythm around us.

For a few blissful minutes, I forgot everything — the heaviness in my chest, tumor in my head. There was only us — laughing, dancing, alive.

After a few songs, my body began to give up. My steps faltered, my breath grew heavy, and before I knew it, everything around me tilted. I was about to fall when Jayant caught me — firm, protective — pulling me against his chest before anyone noticed.

“Alisha!” he whispered, worry flashing in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, but my voice trembled.

He led me away from the crowd, into the quieter corner near the garden lights. I could feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, steadying me as my lungs fought for breath.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

We sat together, side by side, near the mandap, as the rituals began. The chants of the priest echoed softly. Dip and Bhumika sat near the sacred fire, taking their vows, promising each other forever.

The flames reflected in Jayant’s eyes as he watched them silently.
I leaned closer and asked, “How did you convince Dip to do this again? To recreate the wedding… on his reception day?”

Jayant’s lips curved into a faint smile. “If I tell you that,” he said, his tone low and teasing, “your beauty will disappear again.”

“What?” I asked, a little surprised.

He turned his gaze to me then — steady, unblinking — and said,
“Because right now, you look truly beautiful. Don’t ruin it with questions. Just stay like this… for a little while longer. You look more beautiful when you are truly happy.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My throat tightened, my heart felt heavy.
“Jayant…” I whispered — but the rest of my words never found their way out.

Instead, I just rested my arm through his, leaning gently against him. His warmth, his presence — it was the only thing holding me together.

We sat like that, silent, as Dip and Bhumika took their vows around the sacred fire — promising a life, a love, a forever that I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.

But for that one fragile night, sitting beside Jayant under the golden lights, I allowed myself to believe that maybe I already did.

___________________________________________

Jayant

“Please… marry again in front of Alisha.”
The words left my mouth before I could even think twice.
I was on my knees in front of Dip, my voice trembling, my heart heavier than it had ever been. After hearing Alisha’s conversation with her father, seeing that silent ache in her eyes, I couldn’t sit still. I had to do something.

“JP, what the hell are you doing?” Rishi’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

Dip looked down at me, his expression unreadable. Around him, guests exchanged puzzled glances. Some even whispered, as if I had said something unspeakable.

“Dip,” I said again, forcing my voice to steady, “don’t think that Jayant has come to you today. Think that Alisha’s friend has come. I’m here for her.”

It wasn’t easy for me to say that. Dip and I were never close. In fact, we’d hardly ever gotten along since school. We only tolerated each other because of Rishi — and because of her.

“Jayant, are you out of your mind? It’s my reception today!” Dip snapped, clearly irritated.

“I know,” I said quickly, “but still… I’m asking you to do it. Recreate your wedding, Dip. Just once more — for Alisha.”

He frowned. “Because she couldn’t come yesterday? Fine, she’ll be at the reception tonight. What’s the big deal?”

“She wants to see your wedding, Dip,” I said quietly.

He gave a short, frustrated laugh. “Then I’ll send her the video. Problem solved.”

“She wants to see it live,” I insisted. “Wanted to feel it, That’s her wish.”

Dip sighed in disbelief. “What kind of silly wish is that?”

Before I could answer, a soft but firm voice spoke from behind him.
“It’s not silly.”

Bhumika —  stepped forward, her lehenga swaying lightly as she moved. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were filled with concern.

“Dip,” she said, “listen to him first.”

Without hesitation, she came and sat down right in front of me, on the carpeted floor. The guests gasped. Dip blinked at her in surprise, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were on me.

“This isn’t an ordinary wish,” she said gently. “Why couldn’t Alisha come yesterday, Jayant?”

I lowered my gaze. My hands were trembling.

Rishi’s voice rose again, sharper this time. “I told you to bring her! Why didn’t you?”

“She’s sick,” I murmured.

Rishi frowned. “Sick? How sick could she be?”

My throat closed up. I felt my vision blur. Before I knew it, tears were already sliding down my cheeks.

“She’s very sick, Rishi,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Very.”

The room froze. Even the murmurs stopped.

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “She’s… dying. Alisha has a brain tumor.”

The air turned heavy. For a long moment, no one spoke. Dip’s face went pale. Bhumika’s eyes widened, her hand instinctively went to her chest. The music stopped.

I took a deep breath that felt like it scraped against my ribs. “I keep telling myself I can save her. That somehow, I’ll find a way. But I don’t know how much time she has left… maybe days, maybe weeks. Every second matters now. Every wish of hers matters.”

I looked up at Dip, tears still streaming. “She wants to see your wedding. She wants to see love — something pure, something that reminds her that happiness still exists. So please… please, Dip… marry again. In front of Alisha.”

There was a long, aching silence. Dip’s expression softened. He exhaled slowly, rubbed the back of his neck, and then stepped forward.

“No need to kneel, Jayant,” he said quietly. “Alisha is my friend too.”

His words trembled slightly, but then a faint smile appeared on his lips. “And honestly, I’d be happy to marry my new wife all over again — for her.”

The tension broke. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Rishi came forward and pulled me into a hug — a tight, fierce one that said all the words he couldn’t.

“You should’ve told me earlier, idiot,” he muttered against my shoulder, his voice breaking.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt the sting of tears not from grief — but from the rare, fragile beauty of what humanity can do for love.

<•∆∆∆∆∆•>

She’s sitting beside me holding my arms, a soft smile playing on her lips. Seeing her like this today — genuinely happy — fills me with a warmth I can’t describe.

'Alisha… for your happiness, I would do anything. Anything at all. Without hesitation, without a single regret.'

Her laughter, her sparkle, even the smallest movement of her hands… every little thing makes my heart ache with both joy and a quiet ache I can’t name. Today, seeing her smile, I feel like I could carry the whole world on my shoulders — as long as it keeps her smiling.

___________________________________________

Thankyou for reading 🫶🫶

Request to my readers
1. Please do vote and comment.
2. Give me some feedback, i know meri story me bahut sare flaws hain.
3. Vows Made of Ashes ka chapter 2 bhi update kar diya hain to usko bhi ja ke padh lo. If jaoge to vote and comment bhi  kar dena (lalchi ban rahi hu)
4. Please puri kare meri uper ki 3 request (😁)

My inner voice
Teri hi papo ka phal hai yeh, tune bahuto ke story aise hi bina vote kiye hi padh ke nikal jati thi.

Alisha ki wish puri ho gayi, koi meri bhi kar do

🥹🥹