SS: The Fault in Our Stars THE END - Page 7

Originally posted by: deepak148

madonna cmmnt on last page was so rude, but i like it bcoz i love straight forward people

Originally posted by: adeeba21

a new FF and with a too different theme.

i have read a lot of dark stories but never a depressing story.

i am too excited to read it.

hope that i will like it as ur other FFs.

Originally posted by: zoshad3119

IT'S REALLY NICE DEAR...

THNXXX FOR PM...

Originally posted by: aroran

Another FF

Very different plot 👍🏼 Hvn't read any such ff/ss so far 😊

Wd love to read next update 😃

Originally posted by: Vsoujanya

Kubool Karti Hoon. lol I am glad I made you laugh so much 😆 Better follow the order, or you know what Rk does, I follow the same style.

PS: I Loveee 3 idiots, one of the best movies ever made! Student life defined. 👏

Dear Stranger,

I hope you are receiving my letters and I pray that you are reading them well. I seek not your guidance but, your understanding. I urge you to not give up on me. I may sound ridiculous, tragic and desperate at times. Maybe, most of the time. But, believe me when I say, I need you. I need you like I need air. Far too many people have left me. I write because I realize you can not. I will never know if you choose to ignore me but, in doing so, you will deny me the right to speech. I plead to be heard. I demand to be heard. And, my medium is you. So, stand by me.

Weeks had passed since our first meeting. His memories had faded among the myriad of happenings that flooded my brain. My father and I took a medical trip to Switzerland, a well thought our conspiracy to end life. He had stage four pancreatic cancer. The chances of survival were dim. His Swiss citizenship granted him the right to physician assisted suicide provided, his condition called for invasive measures. I had made peace with my father leaving. I was relieved that, along with his suffering, mine would end as well. I was cruel in my discretion and I knew it. Yet, I had joined hands in every one of his preparations. We had arranged for a lavish funeral party with the rarest of champagnes and costliest of flowers. He was leaving with his dignity intact.

There, among the noise of Swiss trams and clinging glasses at my daddy's last toast, stood the next hurt, ready to break open my barely dressed wounds.

"Madhubala, meet Rishabh Kundra", my cheerful and slightly drunk father placed one arm around me and the other on top of the orange headed beauty. He had a green hue surrounding his eyes, some thing nostalgic hidden in his expression.

I wish I had caught the signs in time.

I wish I had let go when there was still means to escape.

I wish a lot of things.

I wish I did not wish so much, just acted.

"I talked about organ donation. This plaque has left me, well, useless. But, I can help him".

I was hoping to turn deaf in the next second so I could avoid hearing what had already crept up in my subconscious. He had the plaque too. He was carcinogenic.

"I was hoping. To. Get. His. Kidney. He is a match. A perfect match".

RK hesitated communicating the information, rightfully so. I was not the least bit prepared to have my father die in the process of being cut open on an operating table. I dropped the glass of wine in my hand and looked around for a place to sit down. My world was spinning in triangles and rectangles.

"Madhu, I want to secure your financial future. I have drained out all our reserves because of my illness. I want you be free, the day I die".

"You are selling your body?"

I was disgusted by the words that came out my mouth. He was buying my father and his last shot at peace.

"Had I not been cancerous, I would have donated. This, is, me helping a friend. Think about it".

For the first time in years, I let out the flood gates in front of my father.

"I can't. This. I love you. Too much. Too much to see this. I am sorry daada".

I walked out of my father's funeral. An action I regret to this day.

I shouldn't have.

I couldn't have

But,

I did.

I left him alone on his last important day.

He chased after me, the man who paid for my father's kidney.

"Look, I just want to live. I don't want do this to him, to anyone. I don't have another choice. He is my only hope. Please".

I ran so, he ran faster.

"Please".

I covered my ears.

I screamed to block out his voice but, his cries were louder.

He was huffing and puffing.

I stopped to check up on him.

"Please".

He breathed in all the air surrounding us.

"Okay. I will do as my father says".

"Okay".

He dropped his weight on my shoulders and we head back to see daada.

Twenty days till the transplant.

Twenty days left of my father's legacy.

Twenty days I do not wish to remember.

Twenty days I will never forget.

COMING UP: My tale of regrets.

Originally posted by: Jane523

omg rishab needs transplant fron madhu's father
dats interesting...
continue soon