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Sanyogita

I huffed a deep breath for the tenth time in a row. It's been one hour and thirty-six minutes. I'm trying to tie my hair in a pony, but my hair never listens to me. A girl should be happy to have such long and healthy hair, but I've been screwed by them since childhood.

Only two people in this universe can help me with my hair, and one of them is happen to be my mother. "Mumma!" I scream.

No response!

"Mumma, either you come up to tie them." I threw all the rubber bands from the desk. I took them out only with a wish that one of them could help, but all are useless. "--- or I'm two seconds away to cut them." I whoop, looking at my room door, in case she is coming.

The door of my room banged open without knocking. "Here, I brought you scissors." Ah, only one person is mannerless in my house. The devil himself, my younger brother, Samanvayee Desai, comes with a grin on his face and a yellow-headed scissor in his hand.

I combed back hair collecting in a fist. "I wish I could cut your tongue with the same scissors, Sammy." I gave my younger brother a smug smile tying my hair, but again, some strands fell down. This is beyond frustrating.

My younger brother, by three years-okay, only two and a half years-but that's not my fault; my parents couldn't wait.

I think there should be a rule that when a younger sibling comes, they should ask the elder one if they want to keep him or not. I would have attached 'no' to my forehead on his entry.

He didn't bother removing that grin from his face and took the end of my hair in between his fingers. "O god, what are you two up to?" My mother exclaimed as she rushed into the closet.

She is always hastening in the mornings. Her long hair was tied in a bun with two loose strands coming on her face.

I got my beauty from her and height from dad. She has an average height of five one, but dad is six feet tall. I got stubbornness from Dad and anger issues from Mom. sharp mind of dad and a beautiful heart of mom.

Dadi did the match after all!

Mom was Miss Ahmedabad during her time, and Dad just tripped over her looks when Dadi showed him Mom. I am really grateful to mom for such good looks.

My hair ends were still in between his fingers, and my death glare was on his face. He scrutinized my hair with such seriousness that I wish he could use the same seriousness in his work.

"Sammy, if you just press your scissor with her hair in between, the next thing will be your tongue in it," mom side-eyed him.

My mom loves my hair more than she loves me and Sammy. I am never in favor of long hair. I can't handle them; they are tough things. I don't only have long hair, but it is thick and black in colour. I know I am complaining about things others wish to have, but I think this is how I am in everything.

Mom really gets serious when I don't take care of them. She always oiled them at equal intervals, and she was the one who used to wash my hair till I was eighteen. After that, I was a big girl.

Sammy left my hair and gave his million-dollar cute smile to mom, on which the entire family is flat, including me. unfortunately! He is unnecessarily cute when he wants to be.

Sammy, aka Samanvayee Desai, is the youngest in the family. He is too cute to be six-two with a lean body. He doesn't have muscles or abs, but his face is endearing enough to flatter anyone. It's not like they don't love me, but I don't like when they love him.

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