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chapter i ━━ always choose love
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Aditi Verma believed that love was a knife to the chest.
She believed it was deceitful and destructing. And she wanted her daughters to be aware of its prick. It was like love was drained from her, and she was a hollow shell in its absence. She resented love, every form of it. And to be honest, Rhea had chose to believe in love because of her mother's bitterness towards it.
(She'll always choose love)
Rhea believed that her mother's contempt towards it was because their father had broken their mother's heart, crushing some part of the woman she used to know as he left. His absence was sorely noted in the empty seat at the head of the table that was supposed to be his. None of them were supposed to use that chair. It was like a stinging hurt that her mother always went back to—even more so when she was around her. "You're so much like your father," Her mother used to say, the resentment subtle in her gaze. Rhea still felt it when her mother looked up at her from her plate.
"Rhea, finish your food." Her mother's words brought her back from her thoughts.
She hoped she hadn't seen her gaze straying toward her father's seat.
"And did you finish your essay?" Her mother continued.
"Almost," Rhea answered.
"Almost?" Her mother repeated. Her tone was unforgiving, "Is that what you're going to tell your professor?"
"It's almost done, maa. Just a bit more to finish." Rhea shook her head.
"It wasn't this hard to get Aisha to do her work, you know? I didn't have to keep reminding her." Her mother went back to her food.
Her mother was belligerent in her comparisons. To her, Rhea was always the flawed one—and Aisha was the fucking perfect one, the easy one. It used to feel like an insult to her before. Now, it felt more like a twinge that she felt on a wound that had closed a long time ago. She wished she could convince herself of that while she was growing up with her sister. Now, on the verge of seventeen, everything felt different. Rhea thought she knew better. It wasn't Aisha's fault. Aisha was just better at taking those knife-like words better than she ever was. And now Aisha had left the house, and nothing she said could convince her sister to come back.
