ch2:Home

Chapter 2

"Who?!"

The boy shouts as he glances toward the door, but the knocking abruptly ceases.

His mother strides over and reaches for the top lock, unlocking it with a practiced flick of her wrist. The door swings open to reveal the same little angel from that morning. The mother's face brightens at the sight, and she opens her arms wide for a warm embrace.

"There you are!" she exclaims. Just then, the lazy bum from before—our beloved boy—comes barreling toward the little angel, a look of mock anger on his face.

The little angel pauses, her eyes wide as she instinctively reaches into her bag. With a flourish, she pulls out a piece of paper, holding it like a precious artifact.

The boy's expression shifts from anger to intrigue as he sees the paper, a sly smile creeping across his face. The rage-filled young man suddenly transforms into a doting brother. "Ah, my little sweet angel, Bhai ki jaan! You came back!" There's no shame or guilt in his eyes—only a complete disregard for dignity.

The little angel, unimpressed, tucks the paper back into her bag and tosses it at her brother. "Take this and put it in my room, and don't look at it!" she commands, her tone regal as though she were an empress entering her castle. She then glides toward her favorite spot in the house: the couch, which she considers her royal throne.

"Mama, what's for lunch?" she asks, settling in comfortably. Hearing this, Mom chuckles. "Your favorite—Chicken Korma!" The little girl's eyes light up, and she grabs the remote, ready for her show.

Meanwhile, the lazy bum—er, the boy—finds himself in a room that's entirely pink, as if it belongs to a Disney princess. Clothes and toys are strewn everywhere, having spilled out of an overstuffed bag. He picks up the paper he had just tossed aside, his shoulders visibly trembling as he reads:

"I HOPE THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, AND WHEN YOU READ IT, YOU ARE IN YOUR UTMOST HEALTH.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE AS SHAMELESS AS YOU, GIVING THIS LETTER TO YOUR LITTLE SISTER. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE GUTS TO COME AND CONFESS! YOU DARE TO WRITE THAT YOU'LL GET THE SUN AND MOON FOR ME? I USED TO THINK OF YOU AS A GOOD FRIEND, BUT AFTER THE STUNT YOU PULLED, YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT US EVER BEING TOGETHER—NOT EVEN AS FRIENDS! THE WHOLE SCHOOL KNOWS YOUR REPUTATION AS A FLIRTY SON OF A BI####. P.S. P.S. NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN—UNLESS IT'S TO APOLOGIZE TO MY FUTURE HUSBAND FOR PUTTING ME THROUGH THIS! 😂"

He stares at the letter in shock, crumpling it slightly in his hand. "And people say, 'What's the worst that can happen? All she will say is no.'" The letter's edges are slightly crumpled and damp from his sweaty palms.

Suddenly, his gaze drifts upward, and he sees his little sister standing there, holding a glass of water—COLD WATER—eyes narrowed into slits.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK!" she barks, hurling the steel glass at him. It strikes him not just as a hit but as a sharp sting—worse than the sting of his recent rejection.

"OUCH!" he yelps, rubbing his face while trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

His sister smirks, satisfied with her mischief. "Now, go put that in my room, lazy ALI!"

The boy named Ali stands up stil in pain form his recvent break up as that what he thoug,(AUTHOR NOTE"Youth with its one sided love,brings me back to my days)

Evening

Ali, still nursing the wounds of his recent "breakup" (which, to be fair, was more one-sided than a crush on a celebrity), sits slouched in a dimly lit room. The only light flickers from a corner, giving the place a vibe that screams "Satan's domain" more than "teenage bedroom."

He's bent over his laptop, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Every few seconds, he glances nervously at the door like he has won a coupon for free burgers for life. Just as he settles back into his screen, the door flies open, and in walks his mom.

With one swift motion, she flips on the light switch, flooding the room with brightness. Ali fumbles with his laptop, slamming it shut as if it contained the launch codes.

"MAMA!" he yells, a mix of anguish and fear—mostly fear. "How many times do I have to say it? Gosh, give me some privacy!"

Chuckling, his mom shakes her head. "Privacy? What's that?" she teases. "Beta, you live in a desi family. You should be grateful you even have a room to yourself! Me and your four aunts used to share one room. Clothes, makeup, even our secrets! You young people don't appreciate anything these days."

Ali looks at her, exasperated, but his mom's on a roll.

"And what were you doing in the dark, huh? On your computer, with all the lights off—are you researching how to summon a jinn to take your mom's place at parent-teacher meetings? I already told you, that won't work!" She laughs, patting him on the head. "Now come downstairs and get ready. Your Papa's coming home soon, and we're having dinner."

With that, she leaves, closing the door behind her, leaving Ali sitting there with a face as red as a tomato. (Author's note: You dirty-minded readers, what did you think he was watching?)

Dinner Time

Downstairs, Ali sits at the dining table with his sister and mother. His face is dotted with the aftermath of the "little devil's" earlier pranks. Across from him, his sister beams innocently, as if she had no part in the marks now visible on her brother's face.

The family chatters as they prepare to devour their favorite meal. Just as they're about to dig in, the door knocks. It's not a gentle knock—more like a twitchy, impatient one.

The door creaks open on its own, and someone steps inside.

To be continued....