Diya's POV
"Aaarrghh!!!"
I jolted awake, my heart pounding, breath ragged, adrenaline surging through me like an electric current. My first instinct was to brace for some life-or-death scenario—wild animals, maybe? Or worse: humans acting like wild animals. You know the type. The ones who fight, claw, and stab to get what they want. That's the stuff nightmares are made of.
But instead of the chaos I expected, all I heard was a sound so sweet and light, it made me question my sanity. Giggles. They bubbled up from across the room, carefree and obnoxiously cheerful, like some kind of bad joke.
I groaned, slamming my hand over my eyes. This was not the dramatic, panic-inducing wake-up I had been hoping for. This was my roommate, Khushi, messing with me again.
I already knew what was coming.
Why do my mornings always have to be so eventful?
The giggles, which had started as quiet, playful snickers, quickly escalated into full-on, hearty laughter. The kind of laughter that echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and invading every corner of my groggy mind. I wasn't sure whether I should laugh along or cringe. It's a weird place to be when you're the perpetual butt of someone else's joke, and honestly, it had become my default state lately.
Not that I could remember the last time I had a "normal" morning. Waking up like this was just part of the daily routine now.
I cracked one eye open, just a sliver, not willing to fully face the horror that was sure to come. But of course, I saw her—the infuriatingly radiant Khushi—sitting on her bed, practically glowing in the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. She looked like some kind of human sunbeam, the kind of person who's always cheerful, always on the go, always so... alive.
If her name meant happiness, it was the most fitting thing in the universe. She radiated it. And I? Well, let's just say I wasn't exactly bathed in light.
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh, feeling the weight of the day already pressing down on me.
"What?" I snapped, managing a half-hearted glare at her from where I lay in bed. I tried to prop myself up, but the attempt was futile. I fell back onto my pillow with a dramatic flop, unwilling to leave the comfort of my blankets. My body felt like lead, and I wasn't in the mood to fight gravity.
Her smile was so blindingly bright, I thought I might temporarily go blind. I winced.
"Aww, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine when you're cranky?" she teased, batting her lashes so dramatically I was half-expecting her to wink and declare she was the queen of some royal court.
"Are you done laughing yet?" I deadpanned, blowing a strand of hair off my forehead, still trying to wake up. At this point, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to go back to sleep or give in to the bizarre comedy show that was unfolding before me.
"Sorry, I can't help it," Khushi giggled again, her voice bubbling with amusement. "You're just too adorable with that face." She was trying (and failing) to stifle her laughter, and it only made it worse.
I shot her another glare, but it was so weak, it might have been mistaken for a playful attempt at a smile.
"Alright, alright," she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender. "I'll zip it." She mimed zipping her lips with exaggerated precision, but her smile, the one that could probably light up an entire city, was only half-suppressed.
I sighed, giving up the fight. It wasn't really her fault that my mornings always felt like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over me. I mumbled a half-hearted "good morning," watching her grin like she had just won a lifetime supply of candy.
Khushi was one of those people who couldn't be brought down, no matter what. She was always cheerful, always optimistic, and—if I'm being honest—annoyingly persistent in her efforts to pull me out of my perpetual bad moods.
And part of me admired her for it. But that was something I'd never say aloud. Why? Because I'm a closed book. An unread, maybe slightly damp book, but still locked tight. Everyone always says I don't have a "healthy amount" of emotions, like it's some kind of badge of honor you get to wear to prove you're "human."
I usually just shrug them off. I don't need emotions, right? They just complicate things. Mess up my pretty normal, compartmentalized life. So I locked them away, deep down, where I could pretend they didn't exist.
"You're doing it again…" Khushi's voice interrupted my thoughts, snapping me back into the present. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief.
"Doing what?"
"Daydreaming about your future Hubby," she teased, her grin widening when she saw the scowl on my face. Khushi had learned to recognize when I was lost in my thoughts—and she also knew how to turn it into a source of endless amusement.
"Alright, not Mr. Hubby… maybe Ms. Hottie?" She arched an eyebrow, practically daring me to react. I felt my irritation rising, and I tried to tamp it down, but she was good at pushing my buttons.
I rolled my eyes. She probably thought I was a closeted lesbian, which, to her credit, wasn't exactly a wild assumption. I mean, my dating record was about as nonexistent as my attempts to get a social life off the ground. Honestly, dating seemed like an awful lot of work and drama for something that almost always ended in disaster. If I had to choose between that and volunteering to babysit Khushi's cat for an entire month—with no incentives—I'd choose the cat. And trust me, I was about as fond of cats as a cactus is of water.
It was a glorious Sunday morning, too glorious, in fact. I mourned my lost sleep, rolling out of bed with the grace of a zombie. My stomach growled in protest, like it always did when I woke up late. Khushi caught the noise and let out a soft laugh, clearly delighted by my suffering.
Tossing my blanket aside, I resigned myself to the morning routine. Coffee was the only thing keeping me grounded, the one thing I was still capable of caring about. It had been two weeks into summer break, and unlike last year when I had already packed up and headed to Inverness to see my parents, this time, I was staying. I had decided to find a job, contribute a little, and take some of the pressure off my dad. He worked hard, and I wanted to help however I could.
Girl, you call that "waking up"?
And there it was again—the voice in my head. My conscience. The one that's been with me for as long as I can remember. She's like that annoying thunderbolt lady from the old cartoons, constantly pointing out all my flaws and failings.
Seriously, who listens to this nonsense? Also, can we talk about how much space this brain of yours has? It's practically an empty cave in here.
Get lost, I thought, like I always did when she got too loud.
"Diya, I swear, watching you panic every morning is my daily dose of comedy," Khushi laughed, rolling around on her bed like she was auditioning for a slapstick comedy show.
If you're wondering, Khushi's not just my roommate. She's my friend, my classmate, and possibly an angel in human form.
"Yeah, yeah, soooo funny, Khushi," I snorted, barely hiding the sarcasm in my voice.
"Oh, come on, aren't you my little cutie pie?" she grinned, giving me one of those ridiculously sweet looks that would melt the heart of even the most hardened cynic. I'd like to say I resisted, but... I had a weakness for that look. And dogs. Definitely dogs.
"Please… not the puppy eyes," I muttered, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably.
I could already imagine it—someday, I'd live out my dream as the "dog lady." At least eight dogs, all living with me in a cute little house. Cats? Not on my radar. And as for Khushi's feline obsession? Let's just say I was a walking, breathing cat repellent.
"Oh, don't call me that," I grumbled, my face betraying a slight twitch of a smile.
Then, my conscience piped up again: What do you want her to call you? Dumbo? Weirdo?
Shut up. When you insult me, you're insulting yourself too.
Khushi stifled another laugh. "Alright, alright," she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I know you don't like sweet nicknames, but I'm your friend—so the rules don't apply to me." She winked, clearly pleased with herself.
I rolled my eyes, and she stuck out her tongue. We both erupted in laughter. For a second, I almost forgot how much I hated mornings.
"Okay, but seriously, Diya. If your alarm stresses you out so much, why not get one of those calm, slow-rising ones? Or I could wake you up, you know?"
"No, it's fine," I said, scratching the back of my head. "Slow alarms won't work. And... you know me."
"Alright, Miss Independent." She gave me that half-smile again, the one that softened her eyes just enough to show she cared. "I'll keep enjoying my morning laugh therapy until we're no longer roommates," she said with a wink.
I chuckled, even though I was secretly dreading the idea of being on my own.
Today's the last day of the semester, and usually, I'd be packing to go home. But this year was different. I had decided to stay here, find a job, and hopefully ease some of the burden off my dad. Even with a scholarship, rent was no joke, so I applied to everything that seemed remotely viable. Business companies, hospitals, malls—whatever I could get.
In one interview, they told me I didn't meet their "communication standards." Whatever that meant. They could have just said I didn't get the job and spared me the 'find your true calling' speech.
You could always get paid to sleep, eat, and binge-watch cartoons, my conscience suggested.
Wouldn't that be nice? I thought.
I didn't hate medicine. It just wasn't me. But I didn't want to tell anyone that. After all, I wasn't here because I loved it. I was here to finish what someone else started.
One day, I'd dive into research. Cancer studies, perhaps. But that was too far away to worry about now.
"Diya, your interview tomorrow is at 10 a.m. sharp," Khushi reminded me, snapping me back to reality. "Wear your formals, stay calm. They're looking for a temporary assistant, so you should be fine. Just remember to breathe."
She rattled it all off in one breath, leaving me little time to process.
But despite the sarcasm swirling in my head, I couldn't help but hope I'd land the job.