16 ~ Olaf and Marshmallow

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Kabir's POV

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Kabir's POV

13 years ago

"Oh yeah!" I tripled over my bed and continued listening to her rambling.

"You have to come along. It will be so much fun," I ordered.

"I don't want to die this early, you moron" her ear-splitting voice came from the other end and I kept the phone down on the bed glaring at her as if it would reach her and have an imaginary impact on her. I rubbed my ear and then brought the phone closer to my face again.

"Don't yell, Olaf," I reprimanded.

"Don't call me Olaf, you marshmallow," she said. I hate that name. It sounds girlish.

"You are an Olaf" I dared courageously before I heard her voice and all my guts went to drain.

"Okay, Mr. Marshmallow, I am not talking to you. Go find someone else to take for the dangerous adventure," she hung up. I sighed and said "Miss. Olaf, you will accompany me. That's it."

"What's going on, son?" A voice asked, and I looked up to see mom looking at me with her hands folded on her chest. My mother Khyati Raichand was a woman of poise and aura. Sweet at heart and bold by nature she swiped right into the minds of people. She was formerly a princess of the Rajvansh clan and got married to the influential family of Riachands. Theirs was a love marriage. Her family considers me one of their royal inheritors as per their laws. They are respected yet brutally dangerous people. I am the first heir of Raichands and Rajvanshs. However, when the throne was offered to me I refused to mold myself into something I could never be. A king. My demands from life were different and hence my brother from the maternal side 'Abhimaan Rajvansh' proudly holds that title. We share a good rapport and he is one of the toughest men out there. I kept my wandering thoughts aside and focused on my mother's question.

"She hung up on me," I huffed.

"How cute of her to do that. You finally found someone who dared to do that. Yay! When are you going to give me a chance to meet her?" Mom asked. Is she really my mother?

"MOM!!"I whined.

"Tell me about her," she said, disregarding my childish conduct.

"What's there to tell about her? She is an idiot Olaf," I answered.

"Kabir, what's her name?" she asked.

"Meera," I answered, uninterested. I wanted to call her again and argue over the fact that she cut my call so rudely and called our to-be first bike ride ever a dangerous adventure.

"Idiot" my mom smacked my head, and I crawled to her side and kept my head on her lap.

"I met her around four months ago and she's a firecracker. We clicked right away and are now cherished friends. She has this first-bencher image, but she's cool. She studies and makes us study too. She's beyond just a pretty face. That's it" I said. Huh! I can't describe her more than this.

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