The weight of Shadow(Part-3)

Episode 3: We Laugh, We Burn...

The night wrapped the house in silence. A soft song flowed from Elara's phone speaker — low, nostalgic, and haunting in the way only late-night music could be. Mira sat beside her sister, hugging her knees, staring blankly at the wall. The tension between them had quieted, not disappeared — like smoke after a storm.

"Do you remember the hand giggle game?" Elara whispered, glancing at her little sister with a sly smile. Mira frowned. "We're not kids anymore," she replied dryly. Elara shrugged, amused. "Five times both hands. I'll give you my earpods for the night."

Mira sighed. "That's emotional blackmail."

"That's big-sister energy," Elara smirked.

With an exaggerated groan, Mira held out her hands. Elara gently touched her palms — once, twice — and by the third stroke, Mira burst out laughing. "Stop! It tickles!" she squealed, throwing a pillow at Elara. That single moment opened the floodgates — laughter filled the room, light and breathless. They tumbled across the bed in a mix of teasing and giggles, forgetting for just one night that they were rivals. That night, they slept under the same blanket, the same song still humming in the background, and the same unspoken thought in both their hearts — this, right now, felt like home.

But the morning returned with its usual bitterness. "You used the last of the toothpaste!" Mira snapped. "Liar, you did!" Elara shot back. By evening, the war had escalated — the kind only sisters could fight — emotional, ugly, and personal. Their mother, still dressed in her school saree and dusted with chalk from teaching students all day, stepped out of the kitchen like a strict principal about to restore order in her most unruly classroom.

"That's enough!" she yelled, her voice sharp and trained from years of handling noisy students. "You both have exams and you're fighting like this?" Their father joined in a moment later, his tired frame fresh from office — the calm of a man who balanced loans all day and watered his small farm in the evening like a secret dream. "What's going on now?" he asked in a firm voice.

Elara's frustration burst. "She's careless, Ma. She doesn't study! She's failing!"

Mira froze, panic in her eyes. "Am not!" she said, but her voice betrayed her.

Their mother turned sharply. "Mira, what is your sister talking about?"

"I… I mean… it's not even that serious. Just a small thing…" Mira mumbled, her eyes scanning the room for a way out.

"Tell the truth," her father said quietly, in the steady tone of a man who approved people's futures for a living.

Finally, the words came. "I failed," Mira whispered.

A pause. Then came the explosion.

"You failed? You lied to me?!" their mother shouted. "After all the extra time I spent teaching you, checking your homework, trusting you? You know how many students I've watched throw away their futures? You want to join them?" Her voice wasn't just angry — it was disappointed. It was a teacher's heartbreak when her own child becomes the student she's most afraid of.

Their father's words were fewer, but colder. "This is the final time, Mira. If you don't pass your next exam, you're going to boarding school. That's final."

Mira didn't respond. Her eyes welled up but not a single tear fell. She didn't look at anyone. She just turned away, as if the whole room had become unfamiliar.

Elara stood frozen too. She had said it. She had started it. Maybe she hadn't meant for it to come out that way, but her words had already lit the match. And now her sister was burning in the fire.

That night, Mira sat silently on the edge of the bed, her back turned to Elara. Her chest was full of things she couldn't explain — anger, fear, embarrassment, sadness. But mostly… betrayal. When she finally glanced at her sister, Elara was asleep — peacefully, unaware, her breathing soft. Mira curled up tightly, her eyes wide open in the darkness.

And as the moon moved quietly outside the window, Mira just lay there — feeling like she had failed more than just a test. She had lost trust. She had lost safety. And maybe… a little piece of her sister too.

❤️ Author's note ❤️

We often think of love as loud — full of laughter, hugs, promises.

But sometimes, love hides in the quietest corners.

In a shared song at night.

In a silly game just to make the other smile.

In giving away your earpods, even if you really wanted them for yourself.

This episode showed us something we forget too often:

Sisters don't always say "I love you."

They say,

"Use my charger."

"Sleep here."

"Let me tickle you till you laugh."

And sometimes... they also say things they don't mean — words that burn like fire.

Words that change everything.

Elara didn't plan to light the match.

But sometimes, one truth said out loud becomes a flame too big to control.

And Mira, poor Mira… she wasn't just scared of boarding school.

She was scared of being left behind — emotionally, quietly, slowly.

If you've ever fought with someone you love, then sat quietly beside them later wondering how to fix it…

If you've ever laughed with someone at night, then felt distant from them by morning…

Then this episode was written with a little piece of your story too.

We'll meet again soon, when healing begins.

Or maybe breaks deeper before it does.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for feeling.

With all the warmth in my words,

— 💕 Aarya Patil...

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