Nishtha stared at her reflection in the mirror. A pair of blue denims and white shirt covered her lean frame. Her long hair swayed with the wind coming in from the window, unruly, untamed, just like her father's.
The blue in her eyes set her apart from everyone around her. They'd squint just like his whenever they broke into an argument. A common attribute that her mom found both fascinating and disturbing. It'd been a month since he'd passed away. Nishtha fixated on the things he left behind.
Her thoughts were broken as the door bell rang in quick successions. There was no one outside when she answered except for a package that lay stray on the door step.
It had no addressee. She tore it open and found a little pink dress that could've easily fit her at 7 and a note dated 2 months ago that read, "To my daughter, I'm sorry we never had an ideal relationship. I wish I would've been around longer. I'm sorry it didn't workout with your mother. Here's something I'd brought for your 7th birthday. I am sorry I never gave it to you."
Crisp and to the point, Nishtha recognized her father's handwriting and yet was puzzled. She disliked pink, why would he choose it? And he loved her mother too much to have said what he did. She thought of the last fight they had and the last she saw him. She kept the package.
A month later she received a call from the bank regarding an overdue locker charge, the one she never knew of. She visited the bank, filed the death certificate and gained access. She froze as she discovered its content. She made calls, searched for traces but found none.
A year later she stood outside a large cemetry where her father's pyre was lit till she felt a figure hover close. Unlike her, it was tall and stout. Just like her, it had blue eyes and tousled hair.
"I knew you'd come," said Nishtha while handing her a package with a note.
The figure ran her fingers on the pink dress.
"It's my favourite colour. But who are you?"
Nishtha handed her the divorce papers from her father's previous marriage, the one she'd found in the locker.
"How about I tell you that over a cup of mocha latte?"
Nishtha smiled. "It was our dad's favourite drink."