" Teri Qismat ka likha koi tujhse koi nahi le sakta.
Agar bharosa hai rab par toh tujhe woh bhi mil jaayega joh tera ho na sakta"
When destiny decides to rewrite the lives of Karan and Tejasswi, it was already very late. Both of them had their...
A/n:- Don't forget to hit the star on the right and drop your remark! Thank you for reading. Word count- 1300+
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--⋆ Did you ever wish for a second chance to meet someone again for the first time?⋆--
Syra noticed her father digging his nails into the cushion on his lap. She looked around and saw her grandparents talking to a stranger couple. She noticed them. They had worn a simple traditional attire. She scrutinized them under her gaze before moving to the shelf near the television stand.
The house looked pretty old than the one she lived in. There were window frames made of wood and the door looked pretty different. The house of the color was subtle and it didn't interest her much. She slanted her neck as they called for someone to come.
It was needless to say who it would be. She was excited to meet her. It was just a week ago when her grandmother, her Daadi, had come to her saying if she was lucky she could get a mother. She felt weirdly intrigued. She had seen her classmates come with their mothers to their parent teacher meets. She wanted such a person in her life too even though she knew her father did more than her mother and he could have done combined. But for her the word "mother" had a special place in her heart.
Suddenly she felt conscious as she pulled the bangs in front of her head and straighetened them hiding the right corner of her forehead. She ran a finger over her nose trying to wipe of incase there was any oil on her face. She remember how she whined to Shreya when they were getting her hair oiled and neat. She pulled the stole of her dress in front of her little exposed stomach from the lehenga she had chose to wore. Tucking it right, she felt better.
She leaned to her father who was gnashing his teeth. He was furious about this whole arrangement. She saw him peel the layers of fabric and dig into the cotton stuffing of the cushion in his hand. She poked his arm. Karan whipped his neck at her direction to find her looking at him with stinking eyes. The cotton sprang out much to her dismay.
"You killed Cinderella!" She whisper-accused. His eye brows furrowed and followed to where she was pointing at. He gulped seeing how he had ripped the hair print of Cinderella and the spilling out cotton.
"I'm-" Karan's apology had to wait as the girl they were waiting for had finally arrived. Syra saw her in awe. Her lips parted as if she was seeing her fairy tales come true.
The girl walked in with her heel clad feet padding along the carpet. The room dropped in silence as the sound of her jiggling jhumkas filled in. The sweet fragrance of rose and jasmine had already enchanted them. Her eyes fixed to her feet and her fingers wrung, knotting with the ends of her stole. Her lips looked a bit parched. Her hair was pulled up in a neat updo with a few bangs hanging down from the front.
