SS: The Fault in Our Stars THE END - Page 14

Originally posted by: iiDona

I have been to funeral services and I think it is ridiculous the way mourners make the family feel. The last service should be a celebration of life not a cry of loss. I agree, it is not about how you died. It is about how you lived your life. The father means a great deal to his daughter, he has been fortunate enough to plan his end & hopefully, has made the most out of the situation. RK, is but human. He is no saint, no glorified cancer hero who is selfless and pure. He wants to live and he will bend over backwards for a chance at normalcy. His money has bought him pills, physicians & even an organ. He is missing affection, he is missing life. Hope he finds what he looking for. I agree with most of what you said.

❤️

Originally posted by: Jane523

nice update dear
continue soon

Dear Stranger,

I hope by now you know a bit about me and the way I might react under pressure. I tend to crack open, either visibly or inside. I am the kind of person who looks for love where she can find it. Some times, very wrong places. He was trouble and there was no denying it. My father had advised against seeing him, my best pair of booties went missing the day of our date. Heck, if those were not signs from the universe, I was dumb and mistaken. Still, I preferred being ignorant to letting go of love. I knew not what the future held but, I convinced myself to check up on the man who was to possess a part of my father. I will only enquire if deserves the kidney, nothing more. That was my excuse for being secretly infatuated with a mass of metastasized cells. I dressed up in the most expensive articles of clothing I owned and head to the Geneva crystals museum to find him. He was blinking more than usual or, maybe a detail I failed to notice in our first two meetings.

"Where is the. blue hair. I asked for?"

His unexpected pauses gave away a hidden secret: Methotrexate. He was high on his drug as our lips met. The medicinal stench pierced through my light perfume and left behind vivid scenes of hospitalization. I could see his health was not at its best. I did not breathe a word to my orange boyfriend. Instead, I took in instructions like a sponge.

"Here are the plans. You and I. in this crystal museum. Break crystals. as many as you want. Take pictures. Then. we head to lunch. Colour your hair. make out and. I will drop you home".

I nodded with a sloppy smile, unknowningly agreeing to the mastermind behind his boyish charm.

"We are settled then. I get to have. my way with you''...almost".

He added in the almost before I could react to the all kinds of dirty in his remark.

"Why do I. do all the talking? You are too. busy ogling over me".

His raised eyebrows brought an automatic blush to my face, an involuntary action.

This brings me to another trait you must know about me. I like to be in control of my surroundings. Under unexpected circumstances, I have always found a way to take charge and bring about order. Even my father's demise was a planned affair. However, Rishabh was like a wind of change who took away my powers. He was the worst thing that happened to my inner control freak. He was the best thing that happened to me .

"Did you rent it out? The museum?"

Obviously, what was I thinking asking such a silly question. If he had enough money to buy a kidney, he sure could afford a day's rent. He politely answered my query.

"Are you eating well?"

Of course. This only reflected my lack of interaction with males whose names did not begin with the title doctor or my father. I was accustomed to being either nurturing or overly professional.

"I have a nurse. ya know. If you are worried. about your father's kidney. I can turn vegan. Now. how about that. hair colour?"

I ended my questioning session and pointed at the darkest shade of blue that did not resemble a bruised eye.

"No. if you are doing this. why not go. all the way?" He matched a shade with his velvet jacket and began mixing the pigments.

I was hesitant. Maybe the dye fumes would encapsulate his lungs. I should stop him.

"It's sexual".

I said the stupidest things around him, like my intelligence had packed away and left me for greener pastures. He gave me a curious squint of eyes.

"You touching my hair, I don't like it. I will do it myself".

I snatched away the bowl of colour mix and crossed my heart hoping I did not end up looking like a crow. He folded his arms and watched from afar. He laughed, I don't know if he caught on to my cheating ways or just the silliness of my actions but, he was entertained by my amateur colorist charade.

As I washed away the chemicals, a purple bled out of my roots. I was panic stricken. The colour was not the one I had picked. He walked over and made a Mohawk out of my ammonified blue hairs. "It looks. exactly as. it is supposed to".

His words held an inherent comfort within them. I smiled and tilted my mouth in his direction, an invitation for a kiss; he complied. The methotrexate, the hospital breath, to heck with it all. No one could deny me this kiss. For the first time, I had loved him in his entirety. I was kissing Rishabh Kundra. I was kissing renal cell carcinoma. I was kissing a disease, a time bomb, a carcass. I was kissing a human and his beautiful soul. The dome above us pictured two Greek Gods showering flower petals. It was the perfect romance. He had checked everything off the list of good first dates. Excellent choice of venue, great food, unique entertainment, all sealed with a kiss to remember. Now was the time for a special question. I had the second date gitters. He knelt down on one knee and extended an arm in my direction. He was going to ask me out again.

"Will you be. my girlfriend?"

No. You are dying. I can't. I wanted to blur out the facts and run away. Instead, I did the opposite.

"Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes".

Had I turned into Juliet? That man knew witchcraft. I could never speak my mind around him. I was being pulled toward him with a strong force. A loud thud and I was pressed up against his rib cage. I felt something foreign on his body. I lifted up his shirt to find a G-tube attached to his abdomen. There, a hard plastic rock sitting on his precious skin. He quickly covered up.

"Not sexing it up quite yet. Let us leave that for the next date".

How could I have done that? I was insensitive and hurtful. A G-tube, of course. Where had my years of medical knowledge swept away? I was apologetic but, I couldn't show it. A spec of hesitation and he would think I was pitying him. If there is one thing a sick human longs the most, it is his dignity. I had to keep his pride intact even if it were at the cost of mine. He opened the car door and dropped me home like a true gentleman. I was in love with my package deal, dying and pills included.

And, stranger to you, I never say goodbye. That is because, life is uncertain. If you look for the end, you will surely succeed in finding one. But, if you take your time in the middle, you will have more fun.

Coming up: The end is near.

Originally posted by: --Udhay--

Thanks for d update.
Happy holidays.. :)