Her Brother's Best Friend

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

ABIR'S POV

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I wake up to the blaring sound of my alarm. I groan in frustration as I realize that I need to get up immediately, since I am going to Mumbai this weekend for Kunal's birthday.

With Mishtipie.

The week flew by in a rush and it is Friday morning already. I sigh as I get up from my bed, rubbing my eyes and yawning. It's 3 in the morning and we planned to hit the road by 4. I quickly go do my morning duties and take a bath. I wear my most comfortable jean and a black T-Shirt.

Knowing Mishtipie, she would still be sleeping right now. I chuckled slightly to myself before picking up my phone and dialing her number.

As expected, she did not pick my call for the first two times. The third time, she picked up the call on the last ring, "Abbi..", she mumbled into the phone sleepily and clicked her tongue, "why are you disturbing my sleep?"

I chuckled at her super sleepy and groggy voice, "Mishtipie, get up. We need to leave for Mumbai, remember?"

I heard a gasp on the other side of the line, "What time is it?", she asked me, all of a sudden sounding awake and attentive.

I checked the clock, "It is 3:23 to be exact. Now get up and go get ready. Quick."

"Shit shit shit...", she muttered a line of curses before hanging up.

I chuckled again at her cuteness before taking my last-minute essentials and packing them in my red travel bag. I quickly go downstairs and take my strawberry milkshake from my fridge and gulp it down slowly. Our cook always prepares it for me every night and keeps it in the fridge before she leaves. It is always the first thing I drink every morning. Strawberry has not always been my favourite. I used to love butterscotch as a kid. But suddenly, around when I was 14, I got addicted to this flavour. And now, I love everything that involves strawberries- ice-creams, milkshakes, just the fruit or even its smell. I shake my head at my weird obsession with them. After drinking, I wash my glass and place it back on the counter.

I take my keys and make my way to the door. With a little hope looming over me, I turn back to see if my mother comes to bid me good-bye. But when I see only darkness and emptiness around me, disappointment fills me. This is not a new thing. Every time I leave the house, I always hope that my mother would come and wish me to have a safe trip, or that I take care, or at least say a simple bye. But all these years, it has never happened. So, it was obvious she wouldn't come today also. I feel stupid for even hoping and wishing that she would forgive me and accept me back as her son.

But a heart can only hope.

It is not that I have not tried. For so many years I have tried to mend our relationship. I tried for more than 10 years. But what use is it if only one person puts in all the efforts to save a relationship?

I understand that she was broken, but so was I.

I understand that she was depressed, but so was I.

I understand that she was traumatized, but so was I.

I still remember the first few years after the accident. I was barely 5 or 6, trying to hold onto the remaining memories of my late father. I would cry every night to sleep and would wake up midnight screaming and thrashing about in my bed, due to the effects of my recurring nightmares. After that, I would stay awake the whole night and stare at my ceiling, shivering due to fear and silent tears rolling down my cheeks. Sometimes, I would hallucinate about my father telling me how much of a disgrace I am, for killing my own father. The other times I would fall back into a dreamless slumber, that makes my mind, body and soul numb.