Love Mocktail : faking it

Nidhi’s life was quiet, simple, and almost too ordinary. She wasn’t sad, just… stuck. Each day moved the same way — a sleepy breakfast with maa, half-listening to lectures in class, coming back home, scrolling Instagram under her blanket. She wasn’t ignored, but she wasn’t someone people looked for either. One night, in bed, she came across a reel — a young girl, bald, smiling softly as she spoke about her battle with cancer. The music was emotional, The comments were full of love. “You’re so brave,” “Bless you, didi,” “Stay strong, warrior.” Nidhi watched it twice. Then again. That reel stayed in her head longer than she expected. 

She wasn’t jealous. She was just… moved. Nidhi looked at her own reflection in the phone screen and whispered, “Kya log mujhe bhi aise dekh sakte hain, what if i had cancer like her?” It started as a passing thought. But a few days later, Nidhi found herself searching more reels like that. Cancer stories, hair donation drives, survivor vlogs. She even started writing things down — symptoms, terms, how early-stage cancer affects day-to-day life. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it, but her pen kept moving. Then came the hair. Most of the girls she saw had lost their hair during treatment. She googled ways to cause temporary hair fall. 

Found a harmless herbal pill and ordered it. That evening, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at her long, soft hair. She ran her fingers through it,“Itna bhi mushkil nahi hoga…” She knew, if she wanted this to feel real, her hair had to go. She even imagined shaving her eyebrows, touching her scalp, becoming someone new. Her voice was low but steady, “Nidhi, tu kar sakti hai.” College didn’t notice at first. Nidhi was always quiet — just now, a bit quieter. She stopped joining group chats, didn’t react in class, looked tired, spaced out. Aditya asked her if she was okay; she smiled faintly and nodded. 

Then came the missed days — one, two, four — until Professor Vidhya stopped her after class. “Nidhi, where have you been, beta?” she asked gently. Nidhi looked down and said, “I’ve been sick… It’s cancer. Early stage. The doctors said there’s hope.” The words felt strange in her mouth, but she said them anyway. Professor Vidhya entered the classroom with nidhi. The teacher’s serious expression caught everyone’s attention. “I need everyone’s cooperation, Nidhi is going through a medical problem. She’s in a difficult phase right now, and I expect no jokes, no awkward comments. Understood?” The class nodded, a few still confused. 

She turned to Jenny. “You’ll help her with notes, okay beta?” Jenny agreed immediately. “Girish, just make sure she’s comfortable. be aware.” Giri nodded slowly, surprised. Before Vidhya could continue, Aditya stood up and said, “Ma’am, don’t worry. We are all here. Nidhi won’t feel alone, not for a minute.” Nidhi, standing quietly beside the desk, blinked. Everyone’s eyes were on her, out of care. She sat down, her hands were cold. “Yeh log… sach mein itna concern karte hain?” she whispered to herself. The sympathy didn’t fade after class. Jenny sat closer, Giri carried her bag once, and classmates began talking to her more gently.

 But it was Aditya who stood out the most. He checked in without asking too much, offered water, sent class updates on WhatsApp. Nidhi started noticing his small glances. Does he…? she wondered. The thought stayed. That night, she opened the pill bottle and held one in her palm. “Bas thoda sa hair fall shuru ho jaaye… then I’ll plan the rest.” Within a few days, her thick mid-back hair lost volume. It no longer flowed the same. Her forehead looked a bit broader in the mirror. Jenny noticed. “Nidhi… your hair looks thinner… is it because of the medicines?” Nidhi smiled weakly, brushing it off. “Haan.” 

A few classmates whispered with worry. she saw Aditya step out of class quietly. He didn’t look back. She didn’t know his eyes were red. At home, her maa noticed the hair fall too. “Tu theek hai na? Ye baal itna kyu gir raha hai?” Nidhi, half-prepared for this, replied, “Change of weather… and I think stress maybe.” Gayathri didn’t push. Later, Nidhi said, “Maa, kal college mein hair donation camp hai… for cancer patients. I want to donate.” Her tone was casual, but her eyes searched her mother’s face. “Baal waise bhi damage ho rahe hain… it will grow back fast and also good for scalp too.” Gayathri looked at her quietly, processing it.

Nidhi just nodded. “I’m ready, maa.” Then Gayathri placed a hand on her head. “Thik hai… karlo donatio.” A lie crafted for college, and now, for home too. Gayathri left for office after a warm goodbye, gently reminding her to be proud of what she was about to do, unaware of Nidhi’s actual plan. Nidhi stepped into the bathroom, heart pounding, hands slightly trembling out of pure excitement. Holding the trimmer in her right hand, she grabbed a section of hair at the forehead, and with a deep breath, pressed the blade down. The buzzing filled the room and loose strands fell to the floor. One pass after another, her scalp began to show,

and the smile on her lips only widened. She watched in the mirror with fascination. Each patch of hair that vanished only made her feel lighter. By the time she switched off the trimmer, her head was coated with stubble, and her eyes gleamed with wild satisfaction. She reached for the safety razor and applied soap over her scalp. The first glide over the stubble made her gasp softly, the cold metal meeting warm skin. She moved slowly, patiently. feeling every inch as it turned smooth and bare. With that same spirit, she took the razor to her eyebrows. This part took a little more nerve, but she didn’t flinch. Stripping off her clothes,

 she stepped into the shower. The water hit her skin and flowed over her bald head like silk. She tilted her face up, eyes closed, fingers circling her scalp again and again, laughing silently as the sensation swept her away. After drying off, she wore her usual home clothes. Standing before the mirror again, she picked up the eyebrow pencil and carefully drew soft, neat brows in place. She knew her mother would ask too many questions otherwise. By afternoon, she was pacing around the house, occasionally touching her scalp, rubbing it, smiling to herself like she had a secret nobody else knew. Evening came. Gayathri walked in, 

tired from work but excited to see her daughter’s new look. The moment she saw Nidhi, she froze. Her eyes blinked twice, surprised, almost disoriented. She had expected a neat bob cut, maybe a pixie, at most a short boycut—but this… this was a full clean shave. Gayathri stared at Nidhi’s bald head,“You… you actually shaved it all?” she asked, half in awe, half unsure how to respond. Nidhi acting slightly shy. “Yes amma… I thought if I’m donating, might as well give it fully. Even principal sir’s wife shaved her head… it felt so inspiring.” Gayathri sat down, still processing it, “You’re stronger than I thought, Nidhi.” 

They chatted casually through dinner, and Nidhi kept her act smooth, controlled, telling stories of the fake camp. The next morning came fast. As Nidhi got ready, she wiped off the penciled eyebrows, letting her natural smooth look remain. She wrapped a soft dupatta around her head, making sure it looked neat but still allowed her scalp’s outline to be visible. As she walked to college, The moment she entered her classroom, the whole vibe shifted. The class went quiet. Everyone knew she would shaved for treatment, but nobody expected this level of sacrifice. The smooth bald head, the missing brows, the way she walked in quietly. 

She lowered her eyes, played the part of the shy, sad girl going through pain. And the class believed it. Every bit. Her acting was flawless. And deep inside, Nidhi smiled. Aditya, still disturbed and curious, finally approaches her gently during a quiet moment. “Hey… are you okay? I mean, was it really chemo? Or something else—personal?” His tone was concerned, but Nidhi quickly widens her eyes. Loud enough for others to hear, she says, “You think I would fake cancer?” Her voice trembles just enough to make it seem real. The class falls silent, few voices started to rise against Aditya. Jenny frowns. Girish glares. Someone mutters, 

“How heartless can you be, yaar.” Aditya doesn’t argue. His eyes are fixed on Nidhi, confused and deeply hurt. Without a word, he turns and walks away, leaving the class heavy with judgment and misunderstanding. Nidhi felt a flicker of guilt mixed with fear. Over the next week, Nidhi maintains the bald look. Every morning before sunrise in the bathroom, carefully shaving her scalp with a razor to keep it glassy smooth. She avoids eye contact, speaks only when asked, and acts drained — the typical image of a struggling patient. But Aditya starts noticing odd things. Her head doesn’t even have the slight fuzz that usually grows in a few days. 

Even Girish and Jenny notice the difference, later drop the topic, unsure. But Aditya doesn’t. One day after college, while walking home with headphones in, Nidhi is startled to see Aditya standing with something in his hand. “This yours?” It’s her small notebook. Pages open, her neat handwriting visible. Nidhi freezes. No words. “Why, Nidhi?” he asks softly, more confused than angry. “You made me the villain. You made everyone believe… and I actually…” His voice trails off. Jenny and Girish arrive behind him, having followed to confirm their doubt. Jenny folds her arms. “Nidhi… you could’ve just said you felt invisible. You didn’t need this circus.”

Girish shakes his head. “We cared about you yaar.” They were disappointed. Nidhi’s lips tremble. Her act was gone. She looks down, “I just… wanted to be noticed. To feel something real. Even if it meant becoming someone else…”. That same night, at dinner, Gayathri casually asks, “Nidhi… it’s been more than a week, right? Your head’s still like perfectly smooth?” Nidhi quickly sips water, avoids eye contact, and replies, “Hmm… they cleaned it again at the NGO office for some follow-up shoot. Said clean scalp helps with awareness posters.” Gayathri accepts the answer, a bit puzzled. The next morning, Before lectures began, 

Aditya called Nidhi, Jenny, and Girish to the corridor near the canteen. His voice was calm but heavy. “Let’s just… forget what happened yesterday. Please,” he said, looking more at Girish and Jenny than at Nidhi. “We know the truth. But if it spreads. Real cancer patients will be mocked too. Let’s not give people that chance, yaar.” Jenny and Girish exchanged glances and nodded slowly. Nidhi, felt a strange mix of shame and something deeper That someone like Aditya, whom she had once tried to impress, still wanted to protect her from being publicly humiliated. Later that day, unable to hold it in anymore, Nidhi opens up,

 “Aditya… I know I messed up, but… I like you.” She gave a shy smile. Aditya looked at her. “You don’t know what liking means. Nidhi, sorry” He turned away before she could speak again. That night, Nidhi posted a black-background status on Instagram: “I’m sorry. Truly.” Then another one on WhatsApp. The next day in class, she quietly muttered a sorry aloud during the attendance call, pretending it was just for the sadness her illness had brought upon others. No one knew it was for something else entirely. The class responded with soft nods and sympathetic looks. Jenny and Girish slowly began treating her normally again—

maybe because of Aditya’s request. Nidhi made one last attempt. During a quiet lunch break she sat beside him. “I’m not that person anymore, Aditya. I was stupid. Lonely. Social media got into my head. But I’m trying. Please try to see that.” Aditya stared ahead, silent for a while. And gave her a acceptance smile… That weekend, Aditya stood at the entrance of Nidhi’s house, holding a small box of sweets in one hand and Nidhi stood beside him, her bald head uncovered. Inside, Gayathri sipping tea while reading the newspaper. She looked up, surprised to see Aditya, and even more surprised when Nidhi sat beside her and said, 

“Maa… Aditya has something to say.” Aditya said clearing his throat. “Aunty, I’m here because your daughter proposed to me.” Gayathri blinked. “Haan?” “And I said yes,” he continued, glancing once at Nidhi who smiled awkwardly. “But… I wanted to come here and talk to you first. I’m willing to accept her, aunty. Only if you say yes.” Gayathri stared at him for a long second, then smiled, shaking her head slowly. “Beta, who comes and asks the mother these days? You’re a rare type.” Aditya chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just thought… respect starts from home, no?” She laughed. “And what about her bald head, aditya?” 

He turned toward Nidhi and smiled. “I think she looks beautiful. Bald or not, her head id still full of drama.” Gayathri burst out laughing. “Wah. Bald girlfriend and Bald wife ah” Nidhi pouted. “Maa!” Gayathri’s eyes softened as she looked between them. “If she’s happy with you, then I’m happy too.” Nidhi leaned on her mother’s shoulder, whispering, “Thank you.” Aditya smiled, his fingers brushing Nidhi’s as they sat there—awkward, soft, and full of that quiet joy you only get when a storm has finally passed.