Empress Dosha

Chapter 21

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Home

Home as they say is where one feels relaxed and comfortable. It is where one's heart resides. It is a place where one belongs to. Home is a place where one longs to go back to.

Infact, home has different meanings.

It is a place where one longs to go back to, but Dosha doesn't have that feeling of longing to go back. It is where one feels relaxed and comfortable but she wasn't relaxed or comfortable. It is where one's heart resides but her heart doesn't reside there. It is where one belongs to but she doesn't belong there.

Infact, Dosha doesn't know what to feel or what she felt about going back home. She searched for the feeling but it wasn't there. At times, she felt like blurting 'I don't want to go back there' to her uncle and at times she felt entirely different.

Dosha says she doesn't think about her dark past and all the things in it, she isn't bothered about everything and buried it ten feet underground and many more. Truly, she is all what she said, but, the truth is bitter to admit or hear.

Going through those traumas as a child made her to button up her heart to anything related to her family.

"Oh my God!" She muffled a groan into the pile of clothes she was folding. She was exhausted to the marrow. She had been folding and folding her clothings for what felt like eternity and they seemed to not decrease.

Another trouble of the present time.

"Are you okay, my angel?" Bizo questioned from outside. As if he felt her discomfort.

The power of bond.

"Yes I am." She sulkily answered, putting them aside.

"You sure?"

"Mmm."

"If you say so." From his reply, she knew he wasn't convinced by her being okay. Of course she was okay, she's dealing with loads of clothes which felt like she was packing up four people's clothings.

But it wasn't just entirely about the clothes.

She sucked in her bottom lip, itching her left eyebrow, "How did I get this much clothes?" She remembered that she makes fabrics and clothes and sometimes, if she doesn't sell some, she ends up taking it or giving it out.

Coming across the cloth Rashid bought for her, she smiled remembering that day. The thought of wearing it the next day popped up in her head.

Cracking her knuckles, her confidence boosted, "I can do it." She motivated herself, she could fold all the clothes into the trunk.

They had all arrived Durawa after moments of horse racing which Bardi won. She then started packing, saying to Bizo that she couldn't afford to waste any precious time before the journey.

Anxiety.

After plenty of time, she successfully stuffed everything and stretched her bones, puffing air off her mouth. She proceeded to pick up all the money she had and was very proud of herself. The money was very much. She thought of giving half of it to charity.

She peered in the direction of the door, "I should probably head outside." The cold breeze accompanied with dust whooshed past her nostrils as she stepped feet into the premises of her house. She held her breath so that it will not lead to sneezing, but still, she sneezed, twice.

She looked up to the foggy environment and skies, squinting her eyes to view. It was mid-day but it felt like dusk and was also very cold. The harmattan season was fully in with it's windy and hazy companions.