Star Dazed

E P I L O G U E

E P I L O G U E

Life is not what we make of it. It is also not we dream it to be. Life is what happens along the way you grow up with tons of lessons that are thrown at you. You learn. You fall. You crash. You rise. You win. They lose.

It's pretty much the same story with everybody. We all are way similar. You and me. No matter how we appear on the exterior, but internally we all are same. We have same fears, doubts, an urge to aim high, insecurities, failures and flaws because this is what makes us human. This is what makes us realize who we are.

A emotional machine. We are a havoc with the way our body feels. We are a mess with the way our heart tell us to listen to it. We are confused with a way our brain pushes us to see things logically. We stop only when our hearts and brains are on a war, against each other -- civil war. And, then finally, we breakdown with all the neurotransmitters acting haywire and we win when  we conquer those emotions.

After I graduated from high school, I enrolled myself in a local college and I take Biomedical Sciences as my major. I abandoned all thoughts of MD and Harvard and Stanford the minute I was discharged from the hospital. The past year, I spent away from my parents and my sister made me realize that I don't ever want to leave them again.

We bought a new house in the quiet area of Minnesota after all, our old house was burned to ashes. We were given the opportunity to start from the scratch again and this thought itself was very burdening to my parents. So, I took a part time job at the coffee shop as a waitress just to help with what I can. Mom rejoined the hospital again, and Dad got back into his business. And we had our life back on the road again.

I just gave the last final exam of first semester and to be honest, I didn't do that well so I'm sure I'm going to get an average GPA but that's okay too.

I sigh as I park my mini Cadillac in the driveway. Mom and Dad both are home because their cars are already there. I look at the digital clock and nearly yell in horror. 4:30. No wonder they are home.

I turn off the ignition and pick up my backpack from the backseat and my Physiology book.

When I reach the porch, the door knob is already being wrestled and the door flicks open. Mom heaves a deep breath when she sees me alive and in one piece.

"I'm fine, Mom. Quit worrying so much." I mutter as I enter. I smile at Dad who is standing by the living room on the right. "Jeez, Dad my shift got late. Sorry."

"How was the exam?" He asks me instead.

"It is over so Alhamdolillah for that." I shrug.

Dad laughs and turn backs and sits on the couch with his eyes glued to whatever he is watching on the TV.

Mom has other plans because she nudges me to the kitchen. I almost don't want to listen because I want nothing but my bed right now. Still I follow her.

She walks all the way around the counter and pauses by it. I sit on the stool.

"Yes, Mom?"

"It's been what now? Almost a year and you have not at all for once contacted him?" She launches right onto the topic, I dread her to go on. It is the third time she brought him up in the span of three months.

I look away because I have no answer to her.

"Maahirah?" She speaks again after a pause of few minutes. "Don't do this to yourself. You obviously care enough for him and he loves you enough to give you space until you figure things out. Why are you making this hard on yourself? After the coma, the first thing you asked about was Aayan and just because of his one letter, one note, you left him to sought on his own? If he isn't being logical why are you being so stubborn?"