Of Lies & Love | weekly updates

1 | MIRA

All it took was a second to turn my entire world upside down.

I wasn't always miserable. My parents loved me. They never refused to comply with my demands and requests. My younger sibling looked at me with stars in his eyes. He paid close attention to every word I spoke and referred to me as his role model. My friends had my back. I'd send one text, and they'd rush over. My boyfriend dedicated every waking moment of his life to me; after all, he adored me. We were together for three years, and I thought we were meant to be.

But things changed. I lost everything in the blink of an eye.

My boyfriend doesn't want me. He called me a slut the day we broke up. My friends laughed and walked away with him. I was left to pick up the shards of my shattered heart. Call me hopeless, but I had envisioned our wedding. I wanted to share my dreams with him and build our future together, so it felt impossible for me to move on, and most days, I was consumed by pain, like someone was crushing me under heavy stones. Mom and Dad are unable to face me without the blanket of shame. Their eyes reflect disbelief, hurt, and questions. They don't understand where they went wrong in raising their daughter. They don't allow me to interact with my brother. He, too, keeps his distance from me. I am a blemish who will only taint him.

I don't know when my life began to spiral.

Maybe I know. But I'm afraid to admit it. If I do, I will only have myself to blame, and this is not my fault. I am a victim. I got dragged once, and then I could not pull away until I was engulfed in the bottomless pit of darkness. Well, that's what my family calls it. For me, the place is one of pleasure. The mere thought of it makes my fingers tremble. My heart pounds at a rate faster than normal, giving me all sorts of jitters. A kaleidoscope of colours, vibrant and wondrous, explodes behind my eyelids.

"Mira, behave," Mom whispers; her tone cuts through me like a knife, causing my shoulders to stiffen as heat bleeds into my cheeks. She is aware of the direction of my thoughts, and I hate it.

I lick my dry lips and tuck an unruly strand behind my ear before taking the tray from her grasp. She follows me in silence into the drawing room. When Dad sees me, he wears a false smile on his face; it's so convincing that I can't help but cast my eyes down to hide my tears. "This is Mira."

"She is beautiful," the lady says, her voice laced with nothing but honey. She sounds genuine, which doesn't surprise me. At first glance, I am very pleasing to the eyes, so much so that my relatives and new neighbours mistake me for an angel. It's only my family and the people back in Canada who know me better. "I think you'll be a great addition to our family." If she comes across my habits, she will never want to be associated with me. Her good thoughts will vaporize, and there will be other words to describe me, the ones I have heard umpteenth times, the bitterness of which hurts as much as a snake bite.

"Of course. She is the best daughter." Mom fidgets with the handle of the cup before taking a sip of the tea. She refuses to meet my eyes, but the ghost of her guilt for lying to them torments me as does her silence when we are alone within the walls of our house.

"We can tell. The tea is wonderful, no?" she asks her husband. He nods, gracing me with a kind smile. "Do you like cooking?"

"Yes, Mira loves to cook."

"No. I can't cook. Mom made the tea."

The lady's mouth hangs open, and she turns to her husband. He chuckles and she joins him. "It's ok, dear." She pats my shoulder with a tenderness I have not felt in five years. Mom notices the gesture and turns away. "Our son, Raj, knows how to cook."

"But I don't want to ruin his life, so please, I insist you leave."

"Mira!" Dad glares in my direction, then smiles at them. I notice the dark bags underneath his eyes, and my throat closes up. "She thinks her lack of skills in the kitchen would disrupt Raj's life."