It's Good to Be Loved

By Siddhi Shukal

Samiya is on her worst adventure yet. Her childhood friend and also her ex-boyfriend, Siddharth, is on his knees for her. While trying to barge up on her stressed relationship with her father, she agrees to marry him. On the other side she finds herself attracted to Arjun, Siddharths worst enemy and an upcoming Indian batsman.
Arjun too finds in her his perfect match. He thinks they are bound together by an intangible but definitely strong connection.
Will they find a way out of this chaotic mess to lead a picture-perfect life they deserve?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Mar 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482846713

Siddhi Shukal

Siddhi Shukal is a seventeen year old avid reader. This is her first book. While working on one of the most boring projects of High-school, she stumbles upon the idea of writing a novel. Her short stories and poems always made in the annual school book. Read this book to find out more about teenage views on popularity, love and relationships

Book preview

It’s Good

to be

Loved

siddhi shukal

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Copyright © 2015 by siddhi shukal.

ISBN:      Softcover       978-1-4828-4672-0

                eBook            978-1-4828-4671-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 ARJUN

Chapter 10 Samiya

Chapter 11 Arjun

Chapter 12 Samiya

Chapter 13 Arjun

Chapter 14 Samiya

Chapter 15 Arjun

Chapter 16 Samiya

Chapter 17 Arjun

Chapter 18 Samiya

Chapter 19 Arjun

Chapter 20 Samiya

Chapter 21 Arjun

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 1

T o be or not to be, that is the question.

To be or not to be . . .

Have you ever wondered what these lines meant? Have you ever wondered why Shakespeare jotted ’em down in his plays?

No?

Don’t worry then. Even I haven’t.

The first conversations have always been bad, like, really bad on my part.

So why don’t we take another round?

Okay, no more nonsensical talks, straight to the point. I am Samiya Thakur, nineteen years of age, young, exceptionally bright, and living my dream… and I really can’t think of anything else to say.

Why don’t you admit it? You are late! a voice said from behind me.

I turned to face the person who was supposedly my best friend on earth.

Am I? Why don’t you admit that the doc left early! I shot back.

Ritu had to compose herself. She took a deep breath and said, You’re impossible.

Only God knows how hard I bit my tongue to stop from laughing.

She got up from Dr. Toshi’s abandoned clinic and headed toward the car. I followed.

Ritu was right. I had purposely missed my appointment with Mumbai’s best dentist. And why wouldn’t I? After all, I didn’t want a steel barricade to be put over my teeth for one full year. I didn’t have a dental problem. I just couldn’t control chocolates.

We’ll come back next Sunday, okay? Stop sulking, I said and crossed my fingers behind my back.

She glowered at me before sliding into her seat. Like that is even possible. You missed three appointments back to back. Why don’t you get we are doing this for you! she said.

She was so stressed out that she didn’t notice that she’d slipped into plural at the end. We? Did she mean my parents? Hell, no.

Her reminder straightened my back up. Oh, really? Why don’t you admit it that you are doing this to prevent me from eating chocolates? I know the truth, okay? And no one can part me from my chocolates.

I said, crossing my arms against my chest.

Ritu looked at me incredulously. She had to compose herself again. Whatever, she said in her typical bubble-gum tone and stared out the glass.

Ritu didn’t talk then, and I sensed some other reason behind her being so worked up. If she hadn’t been my bestie, I wouldn’t have cared. But she was… and I did care. I couldn’t let something as inconsequential as a dental checkup drive a wedge between us.

Okay, sorry. When is our next appointment? I asked, merely to get her talking.

She simply stared out the window. I wondered, mutely, if she could see anything through the dark tint.

Dr. Toshi is out of station now. He won’t be back until next month. I am sure you’ll come up with something new by then. She shrugged.

Her words stung me. I knew I had purposely missed an appointment she had fixed for me. But this was not the first time I’d ditched her. What was with the sarcasm? There had to be some other reason.

What is it? I asked her. One look in her eyes, and I could tell something was bugging her. Not the dentist thing but something else.

We reached the gates of my house, a.k.a. Umeed Bhavan, situated in what people called the posh area of Mumbai. My house, though its name suggested hope, didn’t make me hopeful. (Umeed means hope in Hindi.) On the contrary, it made me hopeless, locked forever inside the high walls of it.

On the other hand, Ritu always loved to be here. She’d always wanted to stay in the big house I had. Little did she care about the implications it cost me.

But today, she seemed to be just as hopeless. She didn’t answer me till we reached my room and curled up on my bed. I told the servants to make something for us while she launched into her tale.

You’re right. It’s… it’s something else. I am sorry I shouted at you for no reason. It’s my dad… he is looking for suitable boys for my… my marriage, she blurted out.

Shock spread over my features. What! Marriage? But you’re nineteen! I protested.

She smiled at me. It wasn’t a happy smile.

My mom said the same. But dad says now is the time. He’s even talked to one family, and they’re coming over at my place this Sunday. She looked up at me then, her eyes red around the edges.

Instantly, I wrapped my arm around her.

Oh, Ritu! It’s okay, babes. We’ll think of something, I assured her.

She was not comforted. I don’t want to marry this young, and I want to be a fashion designer. Like your mom. But my dad isn’t rich enough to afford my education, she sobbed.

I rubbed her shoulders. I promise you, Ritu, we will think of something. I won’t let you become a housewife at twenty, I vowed.

Chapter 2

I measured each step, small and deliberate, looking at my phone, hoping time would stretch out like a red carpet for me, indefinitely, for me. So that I wouldn’t have to wait for a new day… or cry over what had happened.

I was pacing against the lush green lawns of my house, the only place here that made me want to live through another day.

Ritu had left early today to attend some classes at college. I had to attend them too, but sitting through three back-to-back lectures from professors of the prehistoric era is just not my thing. Education isn’t that high on your priority list when you have a rich father like mine.

And that brought me back to Ritu’s problem. Unlike me, Ritu had a dream. She knew exactly what she wanted from life. The only problem was, she didn’t have the resources. While I had the resources, the opportunity, I just lacked the motivation. I wish we could swap our futures.

My mind was filled with the images of my distraught childhood. I could almost see the images in front of me. Like someone was playing a movie.

I could see my mom, dressed in the best of her clothes, waiting by the telephone for a call that wouldn’t come for weeks at end. The parties that she attended without her partner in all happiness and sadness.

I could see my brother and me waiting for my dad at school.

Sighing longingly for his presence on the annual day, sports day . . .

Mom stopped dressing then, for she had no one to appraise her. And we stopped waiting, for we had no one to look for.

My brother forgave him, now that he had his own family to look after. Even Mom forgave him. She seemed to have forsaken the life she deserved. So now, I remained the crybaby. I hadn’t forgiven him, and to be honest, I never will.

Forgiveness means giving up the hope that the past could have been any better. I will never forgive my dad for depriving me of the childhood I deserved. Never.

I shook my head as if to clear the thoughts. I plugged in my earphones and played the song that would soothe me at once: I’ll Be Waiting.

This wasn’t some cover song sung by some famous singer. It was a fresh composition made by someone who didn’t belong to the music industry—Juno.

He had first uploaded his song when he was fifteen and I was eleven. I stumbled across it accidentally. But it proved to be fruitful. The broken voice and