I love you, Alara! My love for you knows no bounds-I would sacrifice everything for you!!
To
Fuck you Alara! I don't ever want to see your face... You have lost me forever...
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As preparations for the gathering began, I found myself still unsure about its purpose.
When I asked my mom, she explained that since I hadn't had the chance to meet many people since returning from the US, our relatives were eager to reconnect with me.
Additionally, she mentioned that my dad's best friend's family was excited to see me again, especially since the last time they saw me, I was just eight years old.
I couldn't shake off my confusion about why Mom insisted I wear such a beautiful sari. Perhaps it was because the party was for me, and she wanted me to look my best in it.
As I headed to the garden to pick flowers for the Pooja ghar, Mom handed me the sari. On the way, I noticed Ishu in her room, tears streaming down her face.
I approached her, concerned, but when I asked what was wrong, she lashed out, insisting I had nothing to do with her feelings.
My heart sank, bewildered by her reaction. My eyes got numb and I straight away went to the garden.
Despite living under the same roof, we hardly exchange words. Sometimes, even though I'm in my homeland of India, it feels like there's a void within our home.
Even with Rehan, Mom, and Dad around, there's still a void where a sister or a best friend would fill.
As I sway back and forth on this old swing, I can't help but ponder what I might have done to Ishu for her to harbor such strong feelings of animosity towards me.
Despite my unconditional love for her, surpassing even that for my parents, it seems I've received nothing but her disdain in return.
All I ever wanted was to be the best sister to her, yet all I seem to have earned is her hatred.
Dad!
"Dad, I saw Ishu crying in her room and when I asked her, she just shouted at me as if I was the reason behind her tears." I asked him in a slightly trembled voice.
Dad's comforting words washed over me like a soothing balm.
He explained that Ishu's apparent resentment stemmed from her professional disappointment—a crucial project at her office didn't pan out.
As he assured me of having spoken to her, promising that she would not behave like this again, a wave of relief swept over me.
Perhaps understanding her perspective would help bridge the gap between us.
I could never understand her. Though she was just an year younger to me still it felt like we had millions of years of generational gap or may be she made me feel so.
I couldn't help but contrast myself with Ishu. She was always effortlessly cool, embodying the spirit of a Gen Z kid, while I've embraced my identity as a proud nerd without hesitation.
