𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ᴏ ɴ ᴇ

Chapter 1

DEVI BHATT

We all toss our graduation hats in the air with as much force as we can and start cheering. Cameras flash from every direction of the stadium- it's almost blinding. But I keep grinning cause I've finally finished Med school.

Fuck yeah!

Goodbye studying and hello to life, baby.

It's taken eleven years to get where I am now. A struggling post-graduate student in crippling debt. Cambridge University does that to you. At least I have this random piece of paper in my hand to help me get a job. Yes, I know it's my graduation certificate. The white coat I'm wearing will soon be covered in blood, hopefully. I don't mean that in a psychotic way, or I wouldn't have chosen to be an ER doctor. I would have totally taken Pathology instead- looking at dead people. Don't tell me that not one pathologist has a necrophilia kink. The chances are very high, personally and it's a grim side to work with. One that I couldn't stomach.

I've definitely just picked up a random hat off the floor so I don't get in trouble later for not having a hat. You have to give the gown and everything back at the end. It's all rented out so there's no chance at keeping any of it. Even if I did, my mom would give it to fucking charity. She has no sense of nostalgia.

"Devi!" I turn my head at my moms voice. "Come here my baby, you're finally a doctor!" my Indian mother pulls my face down to her height and gives me two overbearing kisses on my cheeks. One on the left, one on the right.

"Thankyou mama," I smile at her wrapping my arms around her shoulders, giving her a hug she eagerly returns.

"My little girl is all grown up now," my dad's voice wavers slightly.

"Papa, are you crying?" I ask trying not to laugh.

"No, no it's the air. They need to clean it, it's far too dirty, you know?" and he's rambling again.

"I'm not going anywhere you don't need to worry," I give my very short dad a hug.

Then turn around to meet my swarm of twenty cousins that happen to also come today. They're all shouting my name asking me questions as I try giving them a hug. Out of all of them, I'm the oldest by far and I have really set the expectations for their parents. The first grandchild in my Indian child is an ER doctor?! they'll never beat me. Even being TikTok famous won't cut it. I'm going to be the one my aunties and uncles use as their toxic comparison to their kids. You can't say that's not a flex.

"Hey guys, I'm so excited to see you all but please you have to let go," I'm suffocating in their arms. It's all that future anger. Anger that I'll be the perfect one to their parents. Okay I'll stop. "Can't breathe," I choke and they all release me.

My parents never had anyone to put me down with so it's all calm. No toxic comparisons in my childhood. It's not like they could've been like, gosh Devi why can't you be like your eleven-year-old cousin Layla? she's already learning about circles.

"Okay what do you want to say, let's go one by one," and they all start screaming again. My ear drums are being torn down by the screams of little children. Why did my parents have to have me at 19? They should have lived a little.

"You know what? lets just go dessert, my treat," I shout over their cheering. We must be like the loudest family here. All the white families here are all small and pretentiously rich as fuck. My little cousins cheer in enthusiasm. I once remember getting excited about ice cream, now I get excited about hitting the snooze button.

Glancing over to my uncles and aunties, they just stand there watching me get run over by their kids. I bet they're thinking about how their children can one-up me. Well all of them but one. One of the aunties are pregnant again after having a baby last September. It's September now and she looks ready to pop. My family be popping them out like chicken nuggets. Slightly browned on the outside, but completely fake and white on the inside.