Pulse and Petals

Alec

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Today was Mom's birthday, and no matter how hectic our schedules were, we always made time to celebrate together. It's a tradition we've upheld since I can remember.

Nick, as always, was his usual playful self, teasing Jack mercilessly. Jack, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Nick. He's reserved, preferring actions over words. While Nick and I followed in Mom's footsteps and pursued careers in medicine, Jack is a tech genius. He runs a multi-billion dollar security company, overseeing the security operations for Dad's hotels as well as my nightclub.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I said, offering a genuine smile to her. Mom's happiness means everything to me, and it's one of the few times I let my guard down.

Jack cleared his throat, his expression softening just a fraction as he turned towards Mom. "Happy birthday, Mom."

Nick couldn't resist injecting some levity into the moment. "Another year wiser, Mom. Though, let's be honest, you were already a genius."

Mom chuckled, swatting playfully at Nick. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Kiyaan."

Kiyaan, that's Nick's middle name. People have nicknames but in this house our middle names are our nicknames. We all have Indian-origin middle names.

There's this unspoken rule-only Mom had the privilege of calling us by these middle names. No one else dared to use those names; they were reserved exclusively for Mom's lips.

As we settled around the table, Dad raised his glass. "To Hira," he said, his voice warm with affection. "Happy birthday, my love."

We echoed his sentiment, clinking our glasses together in unison. Mom's smile lit up the room, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Nick launched into one of his trademark terrible jokes, and as usual, Jack, Dad, and I exchanged exasperated glances. We'd heard them all before, and they never got any funnier.

"Hey, Jack, why did the tomato turn red?" Nick asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jack, his expression unchanged, simply raises an eyebrow in response.

"Because it saw the salad dressing!" Nick blurts out, unable to contain his laughter at his own awful joke.

Dad and I maintained our stern expressions, silently conveying our disapproval. Amidst our silent disapproval, Mom's laughter rang out, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jack, in particular, wore a look of pure resignation. He's been the primary target of Nick's joke-telling antics since we were kids. I remember the day it all started-it was like Nick had declared war on Jack's sense of humor. From that moment on, every terrible joke was just another round in their ongoing battle of wits.

Finally, Jack responds with a deadpan expression, "Aren't doctors supposed to be some kind of serious geniuses? Why are you so dumb and lame?"

But Nick just grinned wider, unfazed by Jack's stoicism. "Come on, bro, where's your sense of humor?" he teased, nudging Jack playfully.

Dad shaking his head, "Let's not ruin Mom's special day with your bickering, boys," he interjected, a hint of amusement in his voice.

******

I step into my penthouse after the family dinner, the familiar scent of home surrounds me. The sound of my footsteps echoes through the spacious room as I make my way towards the bedroom. Stripping off my suit, I head for the shower, letting the warm water wash away the tensions of the day.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and stand in the middle of the room, a sense of calm settling over me. My gaze drifts to the bedside table where the anklet sits, a silent reminder of that night at The Vein. It's been three months since then, but the memory of her lingers like an echo in the back of my mind.

I reach out and pick up the anklet, turning it over in my hands. The delicate silver chain glints in the soft light, and I find myself lost in thought, wondering about the girl who wore it.

I roll it between my fingers, the metal cool against my skin. "Who the hell wears a lehenga to a nightclub?" I mutter to myself, frustration lacing my voice.

I can't believe she never came back. It's like she vanished into thin air, leaving me with nothing but memories and questions. Despite my best efforts to push the memory aside, she haunts me, a puzzle I can't quite solve. She remained elusive, a ghostly presence in his mind.

Every evening, without fail, I find myself sitting in front of the security footage from The Vein, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But it's always the same story-she's nowhere to be found.

I let out a heavy sigh, the frustration weighing down on me like a ton of bricks. I can't shake the feeling of disappointment that washes over me every time I realize she hasn't returned. I've gone to great lengths to increase the chances of seeing her again-keeping Dante on the same shift, giving him clear instructions to call me if she shows up at any time-but it's all been in vain.

If it weren't for my day job, which is all about saving lives, I'd be at The Vein myself, night after night, searching for her. But duty calls, and I have to rely on Dante to keep an eye out for her.

With a sigh, I place the anklet back on the bedside table and make my way to the closet to get dressed. But even as I go about my nightly routine, her image remains etched in my mind, a constant reminder of the enigmatic stranger who left a lasting impression on me that night at The Vein. Nobody has ever affected me in quite the same way as she has. It's like she's imprinted on my mind, leaving an indelible mark that refuses to fade. I find myself thinking about her at the most unexpected moments, wondering where she is, what she's doing, and why she hasn't returned. It's a mystery that gnaws at me, consuming my thoughts and leaving me restless. Despite my best efforts to move on, she remains a constant presence in my mind, haunting me with her absence.