Ruin In Royals (Royal #1: Book 2) | ✔

68

-• coward •-

Vikram Singh Chauhan

I'm the least proud of who I've become.

It takes enormous strength to hold onto everything you love, but nothing to let go. I couldn't be brave. Not for the woman I love, nor for the daughter I conceived with her, neither for the sons I've always let down. And I've lived every moment hating myself. Because this anguish, this pain, these regrets, they needed a victim, and I needed salvation. I've sinned, not once, not twice, but a million times. Tormenting myself is the only way I can live, I have lived. My regrets have chased me like a shadow, always an inherent part of me. I acknowledge myself with them. Every inch of my bare soul is littered with the scars of every war I gave up on.

I'm a coward.

That's me.

That's my identity.

So it didn't surprise me when I held that piece of paper in my hand that told me the time I've left to live.

I don't know what death feels like. But I've imagined it. I've imagined myself letting go of the life I've so desperately tried to bettered, and I imagine myself walking through the dandelions, towards the woman standing beyond the end of life. I imagine her waiting for me, smiling, forgiveness in her eyes, acceptance in her arms. And suddenly, death doesn't sound scary at all.

If death is freedom, I'm dying to be free.

But my greed for life lies in my kids.

And I become a coward again.

I've lived a life that cannot be honoured. And I've stopped mourning the dreams I've killed with my bare hands. I don't care about myself anymore. I'm not allowed to.

But I can't let go of the hope to see my kids happy and sated. I wish, even after I die, I get the chance to look after them, cherish the sight of them.

I may not be the man I wanted to be. I may not be the father my kids wanted me to be. But I pray, when I leave, they remember me in the rare moments I've made them smile, and not in the ones they resented me for being their father. Because being their father is the only thing I'm proud of. That's the only thing that keeps me going. Every day that I wake up, I look forward to seeing my kids and basking in the realisation that despite not being the ideal parent figure, my kids turned out to be the most beautiful human beings I've ever encountered.

They're kind, compassionate, understanding, and brave. My kids, unlike me, are the bravest individuals I've seen. Forgive me for being biassed, but I know there's no other parent who could ever be as proud as I'm of my children.

My children yield the power to bend the world.

But my existence is an obstacle. It has always been. And I'm afraid, the decisions I made out of my cowardliness will warp the unbreakable shield these siblings have built to protect themselves.

When I saw my son, my ever so calm, composed, mountain of a son kneeling in front of that old bastard, I felt rage consume me. Not towards anyone else, but towards myself. I'm the father. I should be the one protecting my children's honour. But as usual I stood in a corner, immobile like a mannequin. I wish I had no emotions like I never had a choice. Living would have hurt less.

But would I have been alive without experiencing the feeling of becoming a father for the first time? The overwhelming happiness I felt when I held my kids in my arms, webbed dreams for them, felt like I could take over the world if someone threatened them. Those moments that I felt worth it, belonged, as if I matter. My opinion, my existence, my life matters. I crave it as bad as one craves opium.