Vulnerability

"Sometimes we need someone to simply be there. Not to fix anything, or to do anything in particular, but just to let us feel that we are cared for and protected."

-Anonymous

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Gauhar's POV

I felt all breath leave my body as I saw fathers limp form in front of me. Even breathing felt difficult as it seemed consume all my energy.

His chiseled cheeks seemed hollow the flushed glow in them gone as I beheld his skin that had gone pale… appearing almost papery. And his eyes, those eyes that sparkled with life, those eyes that I looked at to find solace in when things were hard.

They were closed, and I was afraid that I might not be able to see them alight with life again, I was scared that I won't be able to see that smile on his face that reassured me that everything would be alright again.

When things weren't right, there was this reassurance in me that at least he was there….if he was gone, I don't think I could live again. Imagining life without his strong presence, his support and his encouraging words that made me feel I could win over the entire world was agonising.

Just the thought of him ceasing to be in my life anymore caused a wave of dread to suffocate me, engulfing me in its darkness. I was sure I wouldn't survive it if he were to go. The mere idea of losing him made me feel cold, the idea of life without him terrified me to my bones.

No matter how strong I tried to act in front of people, no matter how much of a brave front I put up in front of everyone. My father was the only one that managed to see through the façade. He was the only one that could see me for who what I actually was.

Vulnerable…weak...useless. I was a coward.

And still he loved me, he never judged me for the mistakes that I made. He never got angry when I failed, he taught me that it wasn't failing that made you a loser, it was not trying again twice as hard that set your failure in stone.

Nobody would love me as he loved me, his love was truly unconditional. He loved me regardless of my destructive anger, he loved me although I made mistakes that even my mother couldn't forgive me for. He loved me though I knew was wasn't worthy of it.

And if he were gone, I would truly break. My life wouldn't have any meaning anymore.

I could not let anyone else see this side of me. I wasn't allowed to show weakness, because if I were to break down under the weight of my fears and misgivings. There would be nobody to handle the broken spirits of my mother and brother. I knew that they were more vulnerable, and my behavior could very well determine how strongly they faced this.

I didn't want to see mother's chocolate brown eyes tear up because of my lack in strength. I didn't want to see the disappointment in there again. I didn't want brother to cry again, no matter how much he said he didn't love me....I knew my tears would break him again.

I was just a liability for everyone. My weakness would become their weakness.

I ran a hand down my face as I let out a breath, thinking about what I had done. No…I couldn't, I Wouldn't let them go through the same kind of pain again.

I hated how these thoughts haunted me, no matter how hard I tried to repress them. They just came back to hurt me harder and more potent. That's why I never could sleep... because these demons they never let me rest. They always reminded me of what I did wrong.

This time I will protect them, I will never become the reason of the grief in their eyes and the wetness on their cheeks.... again.

"Miss…Miss- GAUHAR!" the loud voice in my ears shook me out of my thoughts, I sucked in a quick breath as I willed my racing heart to calm down.

I looked beside me to find the source of the voice "I- I'm sorry Miss, I did not mean to frighten you. But you weren't listening to me…you seemed to be deep in thought about something. A-and I was worried about the expression on your face, you looked distressed." Mr. Mishra looked away rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

My eyes widened as I got a good look at his eyes. My mouth opening in shock as I realized that his eyes were an amazing sapphire blue color, and right now they were shining concern that warmed my heart. The worry glittering in his blue irises strangely comforted me and made me feel less lonely.

It was very inconvenient to have a face that gave away whatever you were feeling, but this was the first time I was grateful that someone understood my distress and silently supported me. I always perceived my feelings as a weakness, and my face always gave away my weaknesses. But this time there was no judgement in Mr. Mishra's face and that strangely reassured me.

"Miss Gauhar, the Doctor is here." He informed me, indicating where the doctor was standing with his shoulder.

Never before had I felt as relaxed to see the masked figure in blue as I was at this moment. Hospitals were a place that always gave me anxiety and doctors were never people that I associated any positive feelings with.

But now this doctor held answers to whether my father would survive this ordeal or not. Despite myself I rushed towards the man, but before I could ask him anything, he walked into the operation theatre not even noticing my presence.

Or even if he noticed me, he chose to deliberately not acknowledge me...because I was a nuisance. But right now I didn't mind to be called anything. Had it not been the silent touch of Mr. Mishra stopping me, I would have definitely pestered the doctor to get answers.

I stepped away as I heard the smooth gliding of the wheels across the marble as they pushed my father towards the open doors, the silent rise and fall of his chest the only reassurance I had that he was going to be alright.

Never before in my life had I missed brother's company as much as I missed it now. I felt cold and alone…the stark emptiness of the hospital filled me with a kind of hopelessness that was all consuming.

Despite everything I knew that brother would be there for me.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I stepped away and watched them wheel him into the operation theatre. It was difficult to stand outside the operation theatre, knowing that there was just one door separating me from my father. And still, I couldn't do anything to help him, except wait and pray.

The continuous beeping of the machines increased my anxiety, I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans as I tried to control the rapid hammering of my heart.

I wouldn't let out any sign of weakness, especially when my family needed me. I had to stay strong, no matter how difficult it was.

The wait seemed to be stretching to eternity, the uncertainty only adding to the agony I felt.

Not knowing what was going to happen caused anxiety to cloud around me, making me jittery. I clenched my fists tightly, trying to hold on desperately to the emotions that threatened to escape me. I could feel my composure that was held on with a delicate thread, threaten to break.

The delicate touch on my shoulder broke me out of my trance, causing me to jump lightly at the touch. Impulsively taking a few steps back, I turned towards the person that seemed to be silently requesting for my attention.

My eyes locked with calm blue eyes that seemed to strangely remind me of the chaotic yet calming ebb and flow of the ocean. Though blue was not a colour that could impart warmth, the warmth in those irises comforted me and strangely put me at ease.

It was astounding how difficult circumstances showed us a side of people that we otherwise would never have been able to discover. If it were according to what I wanted, I would never have asked for the company of Mr. Mishra but now that he was here I was infinitely thankful for his silent yet comforting presence that supported me without question.

His presence was weirdly soothing, especially since we were not close. We weren't even friends, hell he was my father's employee.

"What was it that you wanted Mr. Mishra?" I turned towards him, watching him expectantly ask crossed my arms across my chest.

A instinctive action of defensiveness.

"Well Miss Siddique, I was wondering if you would like to grab a cup of coffee with me…" he was staring intently at his polished leather shoes, refusing to meet my eye. The tips of his ears had turned red, but the expression on his face was hidden by the hair that had fallen onto his eyes.

"Are you… are you asking me out Mr. Mishra?" I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise, placing my hands behind my back and bending to get a good look at his face.