Love Mocktail : When Reality Hits

It had been a year since that unforgettable day, when Aditya realized he couldn’t live without her. Time flew by, and now they were no longer just college lovers — they were husband and wife. Nidhi was 22, Aditya 23. They had both just completed college, and with their families’ blessings and a heart full of memories, they were finally married. The wedding was small but beautiful, just their close friends and family, all smiling, laughing, dancing. Nidhi looked stunning. Aditya couldn’t take his eyes off her. The shaadi ended with a quiet promise — to always stay honest, no matter what life brought. 

A week later, they were on their honeymoon — in a quiet hill station, in the silence of the night, under a warm blanket they talked like old friends, like lovers, like partners.”You remember that day when I told you I had cancer?” Nidhi asked, playfully resting her head on his chest. Aditya chuckled, “You fooled me so well… I actually thought I was losing you yaar” She smiled. “And then I showed up… pura ganja , no eyebrows, no shame.” He looked at her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “And still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” They both laughed. Then slowly, their laughter turned into soft whispers, fingers interlocked, 

eyes meeting. The room filled with warmth and quiet gasps, as they slowly explored each other between kisses and gentle teasing, Nidhi whispered, “So… now that I’m your wife, how many babies do you want, Aditya?” He grinned. “Hmm one… maybe two. Depends on how much you torture me.” She slapped his chest playfully. “Pagal!” Their honeymoon was full of little playful, romantic, emotional moments. It had been a few months since their marriage. One morning, she woke up feeling dizzy and slightly sick. She didn’t think much of it at first, but the same thing kept happening. Aditya noticed it too and gently asked her to check once. 

Nervously hopeful, they bought a test kit and waited. The test came out faintly positive. Their hearts jumped. Aditya hugged her tightly, both smiling wide. But a week later, she started feeling uneasy, and one night, heavy bleeding happened. They rushed to the hospital, fearing the worst. The doctor confirmed it — it was a miscarriage. Nidhi sat still, numb, while Aditya held her hand tightly. Neither cried aloud, Since the miscarriage, doctors suggested a few scans to ensure everything was okay. That’s when something unexpected came up. After repeated tests, the senior doctor gently broke the news. Nidhi had Stage 2 ovarian cancer. 

The words echoed like thunder in a clear sky. For a moment, Aditya just stared, not believing it. “No, that’s not possible. She is very healthy… are you sure the reports aren’t mixed up?” he asked, trying to hold his voice steady. But the doctor calmly explained again, showing the scans and reports. The room felt heavy. Nidhi looked down, almost blank. The same girl who once faked cancer during college days… was now really facing it. The irony hurt more. But the doctor offered hope. “It’s early. Stage 2 is treatable. With timely medication, there’s a good chance of full recovery.” Aditya immediately nodded, holding Nidhi’s hand tighter. 

“We’ll start the treatment today. We’ll fight this… together.” Nidhi sat by the window for hours these days, her eyes blank, lips silent. The once playful, romantic girl who filled every moment with laughter and silly chatter had now turned into a quiet shadow of herself. She was lost in thought, whispering in her mind about karma. How this was God’s way of teaching her a lesson. Aditya didn’t leave her side. He cooked for her, helped her with everything, even just sat with her quietly, holding her hand. He never rushed her to feel better. “I’m here, Nidhi,” he would say softly, “no matter what happens.” The first time Nidhi noticed her hair on the pillow,

she tried to ignore it. But day by day, strands began gathering around her — on her clothes, her towel, even falling onto her plate while eating. Her once thick bob that touched her shoulders now looked weak, uneven, thin. Back in college, when she had shaved her head as part of a faking her cancer illness But now, this wasn’t a fake. This was real, and it hurt. She became even quieter. Aditya saw it all — her brushing her hair slowly, looking at the mirror with pain in her eyes, hiding fallen strands under the bed. “Tum bas theek ho jao,” he would say, running his fingers gently on her head.

 One evening, Aditya set up a small campfire in the garden behind their house. He brought warm tea, and called her out softly. She came out hair tied in a loose bun barely holding together. They sat close, legs crossed. “Remember your bald look in college?” he asked, nudging her with a smile. “You looked like one of those spiritual yoginis.” Nidhi laughed softly for the first time in days. “Shut up… I looked horrible.” “No yaar, honestly. You looked bold. Like Deepika if she ever went full bald in a movie.” She giggled. “You’re mad.” “Thoda,” he replied, grinning. “But I love you na.” He reached behind and pulled out the trimmer.

“Let’s not drag this pain, Nidhi. Let’s take control. Together?” She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly, “Okay.” She sat down legs folded. Aditya came behind, kissed her on the crown gently, then placed the trimmer on her forehead. As he switched it on and began moving it back, The first buzz sent a small tremble through her. She closed her eyes tight “It’s happening…” she whispered, trying to smile but her voice cracked. “Aditya… will you still love me like this?” He paused, looked into her eyes through the mirror and said, “Pagli… I didn’t marry your hair. I married you.” She gave a watery smile. 

“You’ll be okay with a ganji wife?” “Of course. And honestly, you’re gonna look damn cute bald.” She chuckled softly, but tears rolled down anyway. As more hair fell, she kept whispering things — “I miss my old self,” “I feel so exposed,” “You’re really okay with this?” Aditya answered each one with a steady voice and a tender touch. Once the trimmer had cleared most of it, he gently applied water over her scalp, then took the razor. “Ready?” She nodded as he kissed her. And began shaving clean strokes with care gently across her soft scalp. Once done with the head, he looked at her carefully, 

smiled, and then without a word, started shaving her eyebrows. As the last bits of her brows vanished, Nidhi’s chest suddenly heaved and she burst into tears. “I don’t want to look like this,… like a patient,” she whispered. He dropped the razor and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, burying her bare head into his chest, her fingers gripping his shirt tight. “You’re not a patient,” he whispered. “You’re my warrior. My sherni.” She nodded through tears as he lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing, carried her to the bed and sat beside her. Carefully, stroked her freshly shaved head, and handed her her medicine. 

“You still think I’m beautiful?” she asked again. He placed his forehead against hers. “More than ever.” He handed her a soft cap and a scarf, “Just in case you feel cold.” She looked at it and shook her head slowly. “No… I want to stay like this. Let it show. I’m tired of hiding.” She crawled into bed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face into him. In the days that followed, Aditya became her full-time caretaker, husband, best friend — everything. He refused to let her do anything. He woke her up with warm tea, helped her bathe, combed what little fuzz returned, and carried her from room to room. 

Jenny and Girish came by with warm hugs, fruit baskets, and gentle smiles. No one brought up the past, not the fake cancer, not the drama — just quiet love and support. Jenny held her hand and said, “You’re strong. You’ll fight this too.” Nidhi nodded, but inside her heart twisted. The same sympathy she once faked… was now real. The same concern she once fooled people into giving… was now being offered genuinely. And yet, the guilt was stronger than ever. But more than anything, she couldn’t stop looking at Aditya — the man who stayed through it all, the man who shaved her head, wiped her tears, 

and called her beautiful even without a single hair on her body. “Mujhe tumse zyada aur kuch nahi chahiye,” she whispered one night as he tucked her into bed. He just smiled and stroked her bald head again, gently, lovingly — the only comfort she needed. As they lay on the sofa, Nidhi rested peacefully in Aditya’s arms, her bald head tucked gently under his chin. Whispering to her “You know,” he said with a faint smile, “I never thought a bald head could look so beautiful. I always imagined a wife with long hair, but now… I can’t imagine loving anyone more than you.” She didn’t respond. 

He assumed she was asleep, tired from the pain and medicines. He held her a little tighter, planting a soft kiss on her head. “Pagal ladki… you’ve changed everything for me.” Slowly, he tried to lift her in his arms to carry her to the bedroom, wanting her to rest more comfortably. But as he gently pulled her up, he noticed her body felt too still… too quiet. His smile faded. He called her softly, “Nidhi?” No answer. He touched her cheek, it was cold. A sudden weight dropped into his heart. “Nidhi…?” he said again, louder, now shaking her slightly. His hands trembled. A cold silence filled the room. 

that’s when it hit him — she was gone. She had left… right there in his arms, just like that. Her final breath had been taken while she lay safe, loved, hugged tightly in the arms of the man she trusted the most. Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t shout, he didn’t scream. He just held her closer, tighter — one last time. “Itna jaldi chhod gayi mujhe?” he whispered, voice shaking. He knew this would be his last hug. His fingers moved once more over her smooth bald scalp as he whispered his final words to her. He called the people who needed to know — her parents, his close friends. The rituals happened quietly, with heavy hearts.

They buried her in the farmhouse garden, near the tree where she used to sit and talk about dreams. A simple stone marked the spot. No long speeches, no noise — just Aditya sitting alone beside her, looking at the earth and whispering to it like she was still listening.