7 | 𝐌𝐚𝐢 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢

                                    

                                          
First vote, then read!

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
The memory of that day was sharp and clear in my mind. The rain pattered relentlessly against the window, a soothing backdrop to the turbulent. I was nine again, sitting at my desk, the old books and the dim light casting long shadows around me. The room was quiet, except for the sound of my pen scratching on paper.
My father was out again, my sister was at her work; she is famous and my brother was at the office. He was the one who had always been distant; his presence always felt cold, and sometimes I think he hates me. But Muktha di always says that he doesn't.
The house felt lonely without them, the silence amplifying my exhaustion. I wish di was here, and we could play for a while.
Mom's perfume mixed with the musty smell of old books, making the room feel even more oppressive.
"Mom, can I take a short break?" I asked, my voice breaking with tiredness. "I'll come back and finish."
Her response was sharp and unforgiving. "No, Athwa. You need to finish this. You're always looking for excuses."
Her harsh words made me flinch, tears welling up in my eyes. My head throbbed from the strain of trying to focus, and I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to clear the tears that kept coming. She always behaves differently when Bhai, papa and my sister are around and tells me to act normal as well.
I don't understand why. And it's confusing; she keeps saying I have to study hard because I have to replace Bhai one day.
"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my pen scratching on paper. "I need a moment. Just a moment."
Her gaze was unwavering, her face a mask of cold disapproval. "No breaks. You will do as I say."
I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the frustration boiling over. As I struggled to continue.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The silence of the house was almost deafening. The emptiness I felt was more than just the lack of her presence—it was a profound, aching void that had settled in my chest since we returned to India. Each day was a reminder of the distance she had placed between us, a stark contrast to the passionate, consuming moments we had shared only days ago.
I sat in the dimly lit living room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the ceiling fan. The sun had just begun to set, casting long shadows across the room. I stared blankly at the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away in a monotonous rhythm that seemed to mock me. It was almost as if time itself was conspiring to keep us apart.
In the solitude of these nights, my mind was plagued by memories of our time in the hotel room—her touch, her breath mingling with mine, the way she felt in my arms. I recalled how she had yielded to me and how her body had responded with such intensity. Every touch, every kiss, was etched into my memory, a stark contrast to the cold indifference that now defined our interactions.