Chapter 3 The Shooting Star

Zayn’s P.O.V.

"How is he doing, doctor?" I asked, clutching the phone, trying hard to control my emotions.

I couldn't fall weak. I couldn't!

"He's still the same, King." I closed my eyes, hearing the response, which I had a clue about, but every time my heart wanted it to be different. I didn't want to face it again.

"Take care of him." After saying this, I quickly hung up the phone and wiped the lone tear that was trying to escape my eyes without my permission.

"I know whatever I say won't make you feel any better, but like I always say, I'll repeat it. You're not alone in this. You know that, right?" As I heard Kabir's words, a faint smile spread across my face. He placed his hand on my shoulder from behind, hoping for a response.

After turning around, I responded, giving him a sad smile. "I know, Kabir." He just stared at me for a good ten seconds before engulfing me in a hug. I closed my eyes, almost falling weak, and hugged him to gather some courage.

Kabir and I had been best friends since childhood. He was always there for me, even when my life took a complete 360-degree turn. He was like a brother to me, even though we weren't related to blood. Our bond was based on love and shared experiences.

My parents legally adopted him because he was the son of one of my mom's close friends. My mom was Indian and Dad was Russian, and so was Kabir's. So we used to live in Russia, but once a year we used to visit India for holidays or festivals.

Unfortunately, his parents passed away in an aeroplane crash when he was only five years old. After that, he lived with his grandparents in India, but even they couldn't be there for him. They also passed away when Kabir was just seven. That's when my mom and dad adopted him.

Since I was their only child, I had always wished for a sibling, and Kabir became that sibling for me. We formed a deep connection from the very beginning of our childhood.

Everything was going well in our lives until that unfortunate incident took place and changed everything. In that incident, Kabir and I lost everything.

"The pain we're going through may not lessen, but we'll make sure that the person who has caused this pays for it. We're getting really close to our mission, Zayn. We have to be strong now." As he encouraged me after breaking the hug, a painful chuckle escaped my lips.

I gently wiped away his tears and inquired, "Will shedding these tears make you strong?" He responded with a sad smile.

"My tears aren't as loyal as yours. They come out in front of you, but yours... I don't think you've let them come out in front of your shadow, either." He left me speechless. I stood there silently as he let out a painful chuckle and said, "I hope and pray to God that one day, you find someone who will make you let your guard down and provide you with the comfort to cry."

"That day will never come, Kabir. You know me." I let out a dry chuckle. Deep down, I didn't believe that anyone could make me feel something.

"It will." He said, and he gave me a faint smile before leaving while I just stood at my place and kept staring at him. His words were ringing in my mind.

I exhaled deeply, settling onto the couch. Then I reached for the cigarette on the table, lit it and took a drag. It helped me calm down a bit.

After standing up, I headed to my room's window and gazed at the stars.

All I could see and feel was the complete silence. This is my life. It's either chaotic and filled with crime or completely silent, deadly silent. There's no peace, no comfort and I choose this or I'm chosen for this.

But whatever the case is, in the world I lived in as a mafia, love and emotions were vulnerabilities - weaknesses that could be exploited. I thrived on strength, on the power I held, and I couldn't afford to let anyone close enough to break through the walls I had built around me. Love was a foreign concept, one that simply didn't exist in my world.

So, as much as Kabir hoped for me to find someone who could break those barriers, I didn't share his optimism. Love was a fairy tale meant for others, not for someone like me. The darkness consumed me, and the thought of opening up to someone and experiencing emotions beyond the exhilaration of power was unimaginable.

I embraced the hard, cold exterior that came with my mafia lifestyle, relishing in the strength it provided. Love was a game I couldn't afford to play, and I was content with my solitary existence.

After exhaling a deep breath, I walked outside the room to my balcony, and as I gazed up at the dark sky, lost in my thoughts, a shooting star streaked across in the sky.

"Zayn, see baby, a shooting star! Make a wish quickly." A female voice echoed in my ears. It was my mother, holding me in her lap, her warmth and love enveloping me. I was just a five-year-old boy, filled with innocence and wonder. I clapped my hands together, my eyes wide with excitement.

"Whoa, I want a bucket full of ice cream!" I exclaimed, my childish voice filled with joy and pure desires.

But as the shooting star disappeared into the night, my trance broke and the memories of my childhood with my mother remained in my mind.

My eyes became teary and just that another shooting star appeared in front of my eyes and before I could fully understand what I was doing, my eyes automatically closed.

A whisper escaped my lips, hardly audible to anyone but the stars themselves.

"If the theories about shooting stars are true, then I hope that whatever Kabir has mentioned, I will experience that love," I murmured, the words feeling foreign to my tongue.

In that moment, I realised the depth of my longing, the yearning for something more than the cold, calculated world I had grown accustomed to.

Startled by my vulnerability, I jolted back to reality and opened my eyes.

What had I just done?

***

Myra’s P.O.V.

"You have to live for me, my baby," Mom said, panting, while tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably.

"Mom, please don't say this. Without you, how will I survive? No one loves me, Mom. You're the only family I have. Please, don't say these things. Please," I cried, seeing my mother's worsening condition. She had been battling cancer for the past two years. No one came to visit her in the hospital, not even my father when she was hospitalised ten days ago.

"That's why I'm saying it, baby. Just go. I've already kept some cash in your bag. Go live your life. Never return to that house again. You have to be free. Please, promise me," she pleaded.

"Mom-"

I tried to protest, but she cut me off, her voice filled with pain and desperation to keep me safe. "Listen to me, baby. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And for me, you have to live, and I want you to live happily. Promise me?"

"Mom, don't say it."

"Promise me, baby. Promise me." Tears kept rolling down her eyes as well.

"I promise," I cried, giving in to her request.

"Mom. Mom, open your eyes. Mom!" I woke up screaming. The nightmare that haunted me for years was still vivid in my mind. I was gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face as I recalled the immense emotional pain I had witnessed when my mother passed away right in front of my eyes. I felt shattered and whenever I got the reminder of that incident, it just made me feel lonely.

"Myra, are you okay?" Rosh asked, concern etched on her face.

"I'm okay," I replied, wiping my tears, trying my best to not look at her.

"Are you sure? Do you want something? Like coffee or anything?" She suggested.

"No, Rosh. You go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare," I assured her, trying to push away the memories that were suffocating me. She knew that the events surrounding my mother's death were a topic I preferred not to discuss.

"Where are you going?" She queried when I climbed down from the bed.

"Outside. I just need some fresh air, Rosh, nothing else," I replied, not bothering to look at her because I needed some time alone, to gather the strength I needed to put on a brave face. I needed solitude to bury the pain deep within my heart, but I knew I couldn't escape it.

As I was about to leave the room, Roshini's words stopped me in my tracks.

"I hope one day you find someone with whom you can share your nightmares and who can comfort you amidst your 'no's."

I halted at my track, hearing her, and closed my eyes. "I don't think that will ever happen, Rosh, because I'm not that fortunate," I murmured under my breath, my eyes filled with a profound feeling of loneliness.

Who will want to be with someone like me? Who?

Without glancing back at her, I walked out, trying my best to hold myself up.

As I walked outside, the cool night air washed over me, giving me a escape from the burden of my emotions for a few seconds.

After exhaling a deep breath, I looked up at the stars and tears rolled down my cheeks, but it also gave me a little peace. I felt as if my mother's presence enveloped me, watching over and supporting me.

The silence and stillness of the night brought me comfort as memories of my mother filled my mind, like a beautiful yet haunting melody that repeated itself.

"Promise me, Myra, you will live your life to the fullest. You will be happy. Promise me." Her words echoed in my ears, forcing me to find happiness amidst the pain.

Will I ever be able to feel that warmth of love? I'm trying my best to live my life. Although I'm trying my best to spread happiness and be positive, there is still a void in my heart.

I settled down on the grass of the backyard and gazed up. My eyes became teary seeing the shooting star, and before I knew I closed my eyes.

"If the theories about shooting stars are true, then I hope that whatever Roshini has mentioned, I will experience that love," as I murmured, my heartbeat accelerated, and a tear rolled down my cheeks.

I wanted to trust someone, I wanted to love someone, and I wanted to give my whole broken pieces to someone who could mend them up.

However, I wondered, will someone do that?