CHAPTER 3

"Because I believe those I have chosen are capable fighters, I'm confident that you will make us proud by winning this tournament," my coach declared. I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment at his words, believing that I had done something impressive in my life to earn his confidence.

"This is an international event," he continued, "and the tournament will be hosted in Mumbai, India. We'll be heading there next Friday, so practice hard until then, and I'm sure you'll excel." His speech bolstered our confidence even further. Meanwhile, the thought of visiting India and having a 50% chance of meeting my favorite actor, Shivaay Nigam, filled me with immense joy.

After a brief moment, a question popped into my head, and I promptly asked my coach, "Sir, is this going to be expensive? What if we don't have enough money to cover the costs?" I wore a skeptical expression as I inquired.

"Uh... Don't worry about money," he replied with a smile, "because your college is funding all of you as representatives of the institution."

The news of sponsorship had me grinning from ear to ear. There was no reason for me to miss out on this incredible opportunity to go to India.

Following that, he resumed the class with fundamental training exercises, which lasted about an hour and a half. I was drenched in sweat from the rigorous sparring training he had organized for all the fighters participating in the event. "Alright, class, that's it for today. Now, line up based on the color of your belts," he instructed. Once we arranged ourselves according to our belt colors, he signaled for me to lead the line.

Stepping forward, I straightened my back and issued the command, "Class, attention. Bow!" I bowed, and everyone in the class followed suit before I uttered the customary "Thank you, master." My fellow members followed my lead. Then, our instructor gestured for all the senior students to stand beside him, and he directed one of the red belt students to repeat the same commands as me, with the exception of "Thank you, senior."

"Alright, everyone, I'll see you all in our next class. Those of you who received the form, please be prepared on Friday morning and bring all the items listed on the last page of the form. I don't want anyone arriving late, and I'm not interested in hearing excuses. Lastly, remember to bring your passports," my coach concluded the class, and we responded with a collective, "Okay, sir."

As soon as our class ended, I gathered my belongings and hurried towards the exit. I took out my phone and booked a Grab ride since the college bus didn't pick up students after 6 p.m.

While waiting for the Grab, I lost myself in deep thought, envisioning the possibility of meeting Shivaay Nigam in person and embracing him warmly. Imagining his smile as he looked at me filled me with an overwhelming sense of joy. For a brief moment, I felt complete in the presence of this love interest. Whenever I thought of him being near me, my heart raced, a sensation I had never experienced before.

HONK! HONK!

In less than five minutes, I was roused from my thoughts by the blaring horn of the car parked outside the waiting area, indicating that my booked ride had arrived. I double-checked the car's license plate to ensure I was getting into the right vehicle; after all, one can never be too cautious. What if it was some kind of kidnapper? I know it's a rather dark thought, but better safe than sorry. I flashed a smile at the driver and swiftly slid into the back seat of the car without wasting any time. On the way back to the hostel, I found myself talking to myself.

"Do you really think you'll get to meet him?"

My subconscious mind replied, "Certainly."

"What if you don't get to see him? I'm not so sure about that, but at least I'll be glad I tried. Do you think you'll react the same way you've imagined when you see him? Probably not. Maybe I'll just stay quiet," I babbled.

Suddenly, I felt as if someone was watching me. To confirm my suspicion, I lifted my gaze and noticed the driver peering at me through the rearview mirror. Oh no! He's looking at me with a perplexed expression.

"Could he think I'm crazy? Did he catch me giggling and talking to myself? That would be embarrassing," I mumbled to myself.

A voice came from the driver's seat. "Miss, are you okay? Is there anything you need?" he asked, still glancing at me. I replied, "I'm fine," and ignored his inquiry.

A few minutes later, the driver announced, "We've arrived at your destination, miss," and I looked up, offering a smile as I paid him. Then I opened the car door and rushed towards the staircase, eager to reach my dorm floor as quickly as possible.

As soon as I entered my dorm room, I burst through the door and began shouting with excitement, sharing the news of the competition with my roommates.

They watched me with amusement. "Calm down, please. We have no idea what you're talking about," one of my roommates remarked. I took a seat on my bed and shared the news with them, and they expressed their joy and congratulated me.

A few moments later, I lay down on my bed, listening to their conversations, and unwittingly slipped into a deep slumber, as if I had been drugged.

I'm typically a night owl, often staying awake from midnight until 3 or 4 a.m.

I was sleeping peacefully when I heard, "Hey, wake up. Don't you want to eat?" Abinaya tried to rouse me.

In my half-asleep state, I mumbled, "I want to see him."

"What are you saying? Who do you want to see? Get up now! It's already 11:30 p.m. When do you plan to eat?" She asserted this by patting my back, and I winced at the sensation, grumbling as I got out of bed. I headed to the restroom to wash my face and freshen up.

As I emerged from the restroom, I overheard Abinaya talking to her mother, and it dawned on me that I had completely forgotten to inform my mother about being selected for the tournament and not being able to return home this weekend. Oh no! I quickly grabbed my phone and dialed my mother's number.

"Hello, Ma. Guess what?" I said with a grin as soon as my mother picked up the call.

"என்ன? ஏதாவது நடந்து ச?" My mother inquired, her voice stern as usual. (Translation: What? Is something happening?)

"I've been selected to compete in an international tournament in Mumbai, India. And, Mom, the coach told us that we wouldn't have to pay for the travel expenses since the college will cover them," I updated her.

"Seriously?! அவர்கள் உண்மையாக உன்னை select பன்னாங்களா? Are you certain they didn't pick the wrong people?" She asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. (Translation: Did they actually select you?)

"Maa," I emphasise, before adding, "ஆட்களை தேர்ந்தெடுகருதுல அவர்கள் எந்த தப்பும் செய்யல. Plus, I'm one of my team's top fighters, so there's no way they could pass me up, "I stated. (Translation: They didn't make any mistakes in selecting people.)

Then, I informed her of the competition's dates and my departure for India. Additionally, I asked her to pack my sparring bag with all my equipment, passport, and some sports clothing since I didn't have many clothes in the hostel.

"That's all right! I'll instruct Erwin to inform your father to give your belongings to you on Thursday. இப்போ ஏதாவது சாப்பிட்டு போய் படு. You have lectures to attend tomorrow, "my mother stated.

"Haan, Goodbye, Maa," I said as I hung up the phone.

You might be wondering who Erwin is and why my mother said she would notify my father through Erwin instead of telling him herself. Well, after my father's actions, my mother stopped communicating with him, and I hardly exchanged more than one or two words with him. This has been the situation for the past three years. Erwin, on the other hand, is my older brother, and he's the one who acts as a messenger between my father and our family. He also dislikes my father, but he doesn't express it as openly as I do.

Now, you might be curious about why my mother remains in this kind of marriage when she clearly doesn't want anything to do with her husband. Trust me when I say I've suggested to her multiple times that she should get a divorce. However, she always insists that divorce is not an option.

I mean, really? Isn't it a viable option?

She despises my father, but she believes that we, her children, need a complete family for proper upbringing. She doesn't want others to point out the kind of household we've been raised in if they were to divorce. She wants to maintain the facade of a happy, flawless family to the outside world, but internally, it's a broken family that can't be fixed.

When I was younger, I used to believe that a child's proper upbringing required them to grow up with their entire family intact. However, with time, I've come to realize that what's essential for a child is a secure and happy home environment. I wanted to convince my mother that providing her children with a perfect family structure doesn't matter; what matters is creating a problem-free atmosphere. But that's something I couldn't express to her because she didn't have a childhood like mine. Her parents passed away when she was too young to understand who was in the casket and why people were mourning, and she had no idea how her relatives would treat her after she became an orphan.

Now you may understand why she refuses to end her suffering and live life on her own terms. It's all to avoid appearing vulnerable in front of her relatives. She doesn't want anyone to know that her childhood or marriage was unhappy. If the roles were reversed, I'm not sure how I would have coped.

After witnessing my father's behavior and how my mother has handled it and continues to handle it, I swear she has earned more respect from me than she ever had before. I used to believe my parents were deeply in love, but it was only after that incident that I learned it was an arranged marriage.

Hmmph. My mother's constant frustration with my father used to annoy me. Back then, because I was my father's favorite, I always took his side no matter what the issue was. My mother warned me that I would regret supporting him without getting to know him the way she does, but I always dismissed her, thinking she was just jealous that my father bought or did anything I asked for. But now I realize how right she was. Even if her warnings weren't always direct, Mom always cautioned me. I wish she had shared her perspective on my father with me earlier. Judging her is as easy as snapping your fingers, but understanding her is like deciphering a complex poem.

It's as if you can't quite grasp what the poet is trying to convey through their verses.

A sudden sharp jerk on my shoulder brings me back to reality. I fix my gaze on the hand that gripped my shoulder before looking at its owner. Abinaya raises her eyebrows inquisitively, silently asking what's wrong. I give a slight shake of my head before turning my attention to the Maggie noodles she had prepared for me just a few minutes earlier.

No matter what happens, life goes on.

After finishing our dinner, we indulged in idle gossip about anything and everything until my friend fell asleep. As for me, since I'm not tired, I take out my phone to make some edits to the fan page I created for Shivaay Nigam.

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(The Tamil translation is not directly from Google Translate. I wrote it according to how Tamil people usually speak. Plus, don't mind the spelling mistake cuz I know I always do when writing in Tamil.)