Page 23 of Drunk On Love

I froze. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“I know you'd be upset…”

“Oh, darling,” Dadi sighed. “I am not your father.”

“I just…” I hesitated, voice trembling. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Dadi. Everything feels like a mess. I feel like a mess.”

“Well,” she said gently, “Sometimes, a mess is just the beginning of a masterpiece. You just haven’t stepped far enough back to see the bigger picture.”

I swallowed hard.

“I feel like I’ve failed,” I admitted. “I walked away from something everyone else wanted for me. Dad—he won’t even take my calls.”

“He’s just… sulking. You know how he gets. He was probably more in love with the Singhania business proposal than with Vihaan himself.”

That made me laugh, albeit bitterly. “Probably.”

“And between us?” she added, lowering her voice theatrically. “You did the right thing. His nose was asymmetrical anyway. That would’ve annoyed you for life.”

I burst out laughing. “Dadi!”

“What? It’s true. That nose was a whole directionless triangle. And don’t even get me started on the way he blinked. Like a suspicious lizard.”

“Oh my God, please stop.”

“You deserve someone who sees you, Kiara. All of you. Not just the polished version. The messy, moody, brilliant girl with the bad temper and a golden heart.”

I felt the tears rising again. But this time, they didn’t feel heavy.

“I don’t know if I believe in love anymore,” I admitted. “Or myself.”

“Well, then,” she said, “Borrow some of mine. Until you remember how.”

I bit my lip, the warmth in her words spreading like light through all my broken pieces.

“Take another chance, dear,” she said softly. “In life. In love. On yourself. I don’t know what happened with Vihaan, and frankly, I don’t care. But I knowyou. And you’re not someone who was born to settle.”

“Even if I fail again?” I whispered.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “Failing means you were brave enough to try. And that isneversomething to be ashamed of.”

Silence settled again, thick with love and everything I didn’t have words for.

“You’re going to be okay,” she added. “And when you’re not okay, call me. I’ll remind you who you are.”

I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall freely now.

“Thank you, Dadi.”

“For what?”

“For being the only person who doesn’t expect me to be perfect.”

“Well, someone has to balance out your father’s perfection obsession,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Besides, you’re perfect in your own wildly complicated way. And don’t you forget it.”

I smiled, clutching the phone close.

“I love you, Dadi.”