Dahlia Warner was the perfect student, on track to graduate with applications sent off to the best law schools in the U.S. She’d get a degree in criminal law and she’d live a comfortable life. Sure, finding a nice partner in the midst of her plans wouldn’t be horrible but it wasn’t something she had ever thought about. 

Except now, because every single one of her goals seemed to be dangled just out of her reach. Every dream she’d ever harbored close to her heart was crumbling away to nothing but dust. All because she’d made one mistake that had sent everything crashing down around her like a house of cards. 

Dahlia laid in the dark of her room, eyes vacant as she stared up at the white popcorn ceiling that she hated with an intensity. Her eyelids felt heavy from the countless hours she’d spent not sleeping. Yet, she wasn’t tired, she looked like a lifeless husk of herself but her mind was racing with thoughts that felt darker than the abyss. As the seconds ticked by, her spiral into nothingness only worsened. 

“Dahlia?” Her eyes squinted against the sudden affront of light against her eyes. Her mother’s voice drifted into the dark, and her name didn’t even sound like her name anymore.

“Do you want to eat?” Dahlia sat up, her entire body already shaking with effort. 

“I’m coming Amma,” She replied, trying to make herself sound strong but she knew she had failed miserably when her Amma’s face fell into an unsure smile.

“Ok, Appa and I will wait for you,” She said softly. The light from the hallway disappeared as her Amma shut the door. Her soft footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Dahlia wanted to go back in time. She wanted to be five years old, chasing her mother’s legs as she walked. 

She forced herself to swing her legs out of her unmade bed, but the floor felt like it was miles away. Her toes lightly brushed against the carpet. She sat on the edge of her bed, her shaky arms propped her up. At the thought of facing her parents after weeks of hiding made her throat close up, her brain was begging her to stay in bed, to hide in her rabbit hole of depression and numbness. 

But it was too late, she’d already said she’d come downstairs. 

Dahlia made herself stand up, her feet sunk into the carpet. Her feet were tingling from the new sensation of the carpet, her knees shook as she trudged towards the bathroom to at least tame her tangled hair. A bright flash of light outside her window drew Dahlia’s attention away. She reached out for the drawn curtains and pulled them away slowly. Moonlight dripped onto her carpets, staining the walls with its muted white light. Dahlia stepped into the light, staring out into the dark blue beyond. Bright streaks of light were falling through the sky, burning for just one moment in the infinite moments that made up the universe. 

She used what little strength was left in her to push open her window. She gingerly climbed over it, dropping down onto her balcony with its many pots of plants. Half of them were dead by now, she hadn’t taken care of them in a while.

The chill night air was like a slap in her face. The stupor that she’d been living in was starting to clear, just a little. The air smelled like cold brisk nights. She’d sat here so many times before, her curtains rustling in the breeze while she leaned against the side of the house with a soft blanket draped over her shoulders. 

She hadn’t seen the outside world in so long, she hadn’t seen her neighbor’s poinsettia bush bloom, she hadn’t seen the old oak tree’s last leaf fall to the ground, she hadn’t seen the first snow of the season. Tears were streaming down her cheek again, she’d missed so much. She’d lost so much time, but even now she was empty. Devoid of motivation, or pain or anything. 

She’d lost everything, and now all she had was meaningless tears. 

Another flash of light drew her watery eyes up to the sky. A myriad of asteroids were still trailing fire through the heavens. 

What has she got left to lose?

“Please, help. Help me,” She whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. The seconds ticked by and nothing happened. She was still sitting there, tears freezing on her cheeks and cold wind tearing at her clothes, at her hair, at her skin. 

She forced herself to get up and climb back through the window. Her parents were waiting for her. The window shut behind her with a subdued thud, it startled her. Her shoulders tensed and she huffed out a breathless gasp.

God, she needed to get her head on straight.

She twisted the doorknob and stepped into her bathroom. The cold tile was sharp and uncomfortable against the pads of her feet. Everything was cold and uncomfortable, her arms trembled even though they were covered by her sweater arms. 

The tap twisted and water flowed out a full force. She stared at the flowing water as swirled down into her white porcelain sink. Dahlia traced the edges of the sink with her fingertips, enjoying the stinging cold that sent pinpricks of discomfort through her arms.

She stood there for a moment, disconnected from her body and her consciousness. The sound of roaring water crescendoing into a memory.

Bright lights flying towards her. Running through the woods. An angry voice shouting. The sound of roaring water.

“Dahlia? Are you coming, molu?” Amma’s voice was soft and concerned outside her door. The air in this bathroom was suffocating.

“Yeah, I’m coming Amma,” She said, clearing her throat when she stumbled over her words.

“Okay, I made your favorite appam and mutta curry,” Dahlia’s stomach curled in on itself, in hunger or revulsion. She no longer knew which it was.

“Thanks, Amma,” She croaked out. The sound of Amma's footsteps faded as she walked away. Dahlia’s eyes burned as she splashed cold water over her face and forced it away. Her throat seemed to close up as she dabbed at her dripping face and breathed in the scent of the floral detergent that still clung to the towel.

She left the bathroom and didn’t bother to close the door behind her.

The steps creaked wherever she stepped. The living room fan spun lazily above her and Dahlia wrapped her arms around herself. The carpet was the same as the one in her room, but it felt different, it felt warmer and softer. Like people had walked over it until it had bent to the warmth of their footsteps. She padded towards the kitchen hesitantly, Amma and Baba were probably sitting at the dinner table. She would have to face them for the first time in weeks and the thought of it made panic expand inside of her until it felt like her skin was stretched too thin trying to contain it. 

The cold hardwood floor of the kitchen sent chills down her spine.

She trudged ever forward, unable to stop her feet from carrying her towards the light of the kitchen.

“Dahlia! Come sit molu, we were just about to start eating!” Dahlia lifted her head hesitantly. Amma was smiling at her, the wrinkles on her face prominent when she was happy. Her eyes skipped over to Baba. He wasn’t looking at her, instead he was silently pouring curry over a plate that had two appams stacked on it.

Dahlia sat down on the edge of her chair, shame and embarrassment crawling over her like spiders.

The soft click of a plate in front of her. Her Baba’s scratchy and solid voice.

“Eat, you’ve barely had anything for days,” He said.

Dahlia looked up, lifted her head the slightest bit. Baba held her gaze, nodding in assurance instead of looking away in disappointment, like she’d expected.

Dahlia listened. She forced her shaking hands to still as she pulled apart the appam and dipped it into the curry. Forced herself to bring the steaming food to her mouth, to place it on her tongue. She expected it to taste bland and dull, like everything else had this past month.

It was everything but that. It was comfort, and home, and her shoulders dropped involuntarily.

Her stomach untwisted itself, just a little. 

“How is it? Do you like it?” Amma’s voice asked softly.

“Let her be, Renu. Let her eat,” Baba reprimanded, and Amma muttered something annoyed. Something that made Baba snort and argue back.

They were the same as always, the same bickering couple. Amma’s food was the same as always, so full of flavor and care. Baba’s never ending teasing and steadiness was the same as always. The feel of the place mat where she rested her arms. The soft warm light that hung above the table. It was all the same as it had always been, her whole life had always been this.

But there was divinity in the unremarkable.

Dahlia’s eyes burned as she broke off another piece of the soft, doughy appam. Blurred     with tears as she dipped it into the perfectly sour and spicy curry and broke apart the warm and flavorful egg that had been cooked in the curry. She was sobbing by the time she’d put her next bite into her mouth.

“Dahlia! Molu, what happened?” A chair was being pushed back and footsteps were coming around the table, hurried and panicked. She looked up, searching for her parents. Tears spilled down her face, uncontrollable and ugly as she sobbed helplessly.

“I’m so sorry. I-I’m so-” She spluttered through a mouthful of food she couldn’t swallow. She faintly registered that she was shaking, that she couldn’t breathe properly. But it didn’t matter, not when she was being drowned in an ocean of all the emotions she had shut away for a month. Not when each wave of shame and fear was all consuming and shoved her back underwater.

“I’m sorry I let you down, I’m sorry I was a disappointment-” She sobbed, blabbering incoherent nonsense.

Her future had been ruined. Her dreams shattered.

The worst part of all of it had been her parent’s heartbroken faces as they stood listening to the court, to the authorities, and all the people who had told them that her victory in court wouldn’t make her scholarships and university acceptances come back. Her victory would forever mark her as tainted in the eyes of society. She’d regretted everything, ever coming forward, ever taking it to court, ever hoping that she could save another person from being hurt.

“Dahlia, you did not disappoint us,” She fell silent, staring at her Baba. Refusing to process the words that he’d spoken. Amma came around the table, sat in the chair beside her and carefully pulled her into a hug.

“The world has taken…so much from you, my darling. But that is not your fault. It is not your fault.” She whispered into Dahlia’s head. Pressed a soft kiss into Dahlia’s head, and then another as she held her.

“You made us proud, so so proud molu,” Baba said. His voice came from above her now, and his hand laid on her shoulder.

“I did?” She asked with a cracked voice and a shattered being.

“You did,” 

“Of course,” 

And she was sobbing again, burying her face in her Amma’s worn churidar. Amma was rocking her back and forth lightly, patting her head comfortingly. Baba muttered something about making hot chai and squeezed her arm tightly before shuffling away into the kitchen.

She didn’t need a shooting star for miracles. 

Not when she had the love of her Amma and her Baba.