Vows of Misfortune

34.

At my parent's house, I got off the bike and instantly pushed open the creaky, old black gate before rushing toward my mum who was standing outside the porch. 

The house was a wide, brick-layered house with a basic black roof and petite, horizontal white-painted windows with black curtains to stop people from peeping in. The garden was trimmed to perfection, the bushes round and almost fluffy.

I hadn't been here in a long time. It was home.

She pat my head and chuckled. "What's wrong? You're acting as if you've never seen me before."

I breathed in the scent of perfumed argan oil in her hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

I moved away in time to see my dad smiling at me. He gathered me into a bear hug before lifting me and spinning me around like a rag doll. "Dad!" I squealed into his shoulder, "I'm not five anymore." 

"Still my little girl." He put me down and planted a kiss on my head before rushing over to Romir like he was a long-lost son he hadn't seen. 

"Dad seems to love him more than me, now," I said with a chuckle.

"Don't even get me started on that."

"That a bike?" I heard Romir ask my dad who, excitedly, like a little kid, ushered him over to the vehicle parked right out of the garage.

My mum led me in and I sighed, trailing my hand over the antique wooden shelf that was placed against the wall; the photo frames hadn't changed. It was the baby photos of both Anjali and I, hugging each other with my chubby cheeks pressed against hers.

The frames up on the white wall leading up to the small, black-railed spiralling stairs were the same too; one of just Anjali, one of just me on a swing, a family photo and then a photo of both Anjali and I from high school chilling in bed, two completely different people, hugging each other like the photo on the shelf out the front.

She didn't start giving me the cold shoulder until she was seventeen, though, two years after this photo was taken.

Seeing the grins on both of our faces, before things went to shit, before she had become a completely different person, made my heart ache within the cages of my ribs.

There was genuine love there once upon a time.

"How were you able to forgive Anjali, mum?" I looked at her, who was wistfully staring at the photos herself, eyes glazed over. "To see her the same way as before after everything she did?"

"Because she's my daughter, just like you are."

"That doesn't mean you forgive us for everything."

My mum turned and gave me an odd smile, one that twisted her features into something softer than they had ever been. As if she knew something I didn't.

"When you love someone, you find ways to forgive them even if they don't deserve it. You'll understand it one day."

Those words settled deep into the darkest pits of my stomach as well as shattering any walls I had around my heart. I knew that she meant this in terms of Varun, as well. Could I forgive, though? Was I strong enough?

The answer was no. I wasn't ready. I heard talk of bikes and Romir's job from behind me, my dad's voice the loudest with Romir's being mixed in here and there.

My mum's eyes travelled over my shoulder and she craned her neck out a little. "Romir! Come in, come in." 

I followed her line of sight. Romir surveyed the photos, my dad right behind him.