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My feet took me to the kitchens on their own. I shouldn't have skipped dinner, I thought miserably. To my surprise the kitchen wasn't empty, my mother was stirring something in the saucepan.

"You didn't sleep?" I asked as I looked at the lid. She just smiled at me and for a moment I felt warmth surge through my body. I replicated her smile. My eyes crinkled at the ends.

"Tea." I frowned.

"This late?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Do you want some?" She asked. I shook my head.

"Since you are awake as well, why don't you give me some company?" She poured the tea in another glass saying that I could take this one if I wanted. I was happy to agree, it has been a while since I have spent some time with my mother.

We sat on one of the couches placed in the living room. Her hands reached my hair and she weaved her hands through it. I missed this.

"You know you used to fuss a lot when I used to do this during your childhood." Pinky commented softly. I smiled remembering the memory. She pulled me so that my head laid on her lap.

For some reason this simple action made me tear up. "Dekhte hi dekhte kab itna bada ho gaya, kabhi pata hi nahi chala." She spoke.

I closed my eyes, because I knew if I didn't a few tears would escape without my consent.

"I have noticed something has been troubling you." Pinky spoke as she brushed my hair away from my forehead, pressing the area slightly. I sighed at the comforting feeling. You absolutely have no idea. I am being torn apart. Would you answer me truthfully if I asked you a question?

"It's nothing." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

She just smiled. "I knew you would say that." I couldn't help but feel bitter at that. Did you really? Of course you did. You raised me up to conceal my emotions because it made one look weak. Are you testing me for that? Though you might have missed out a few warnings, that keeping in the emotions starts corroding you from inside. I have so much to say. But I can't find myself saying those words and in the end I did what I always do, I keep silent.

"Everything's okay, mom." I assured her. She hummed.

"You know you can't lie to your mother." She added softly.

"But you did lie to your son." And her hand stopped midway. "What are you talking about?" She asked. That you love me. That mothers could see everything right through their children. Why can't you see my pain?

Heaving out a sigh I turned away.

"Nothing." My tone clearly indicated that I didn't want to talk about it. She didn't pry but I wanted her too. I closed my eyes sleep taking over me.

When I woke up I heard hushed voices speaking over my head. And a calloused hand ran over my forehead. My eyes squeezed shut on an instinct before they reopened again to stare at the figure.

Om was looking at me worriedly.

"You have a fever." He murmured and he tucked the blanket properly over me. I sighed. I then realised I was in comfort of my own bed which was surprising as I remember falling asleep on Mom's lap.

"I am okay." I rasped out. My throat was seizing up all of a sudden.

"You rest. Me and Rudy will prepare something for you to eat. Only then can you take your medicines." He spoke as he brushed away the strand falling on my eyes. For a second I felt as if the roles had reversed, I was the younger one right now. Did I like that? No. Absolutely not.

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