Us Against the World

50. Hear The Bells

 Riya flops on my bed with a sigh, wiggling her back into the soft mattress and grinning at me coyly. She makes herself more than comfortable with invading my personal space, and even though I've changed my storage room back to her bedroom, she still likes to annoy me by messing around in my room.

Around four months have passed since Erika and Kaylee were convicted of assault and sent to jail. Ezra's lawyers were ruthless, stripping them bare of their dignity in front of the court for a second time in such a short term. I like to think that Ezra took the trial as a second attempt at revenge, to make them suffer just as they did to him not so long ago.

"We should do a theme," Riya announces while sprawling over my once-clean sheets. She plucks a notepad from my bedside table and begins to scribble on it. "What do you like, cuz?"

"Murder," I grumble, glaring at her. "Look, I'm glad you're back and enjoying yourself, but do you have to keep invading my room? You have your own bed, you know?"

"I know, but I missed you!" Riya says in a nasally, sickly sweet tone. She hops off the pillow throne that she's made and squeezes my shoulders, giving me a close-up view of her tanned features, higher cheekbones, and stylishly unruly hair.

"Yeah, you told me that several times," I mutter. Honestly, it's only been a month and she's already getting on my nerves. Then again, the moment she returned to my heavenly abode (note the sarcasm), so did my headache.

"So, murder then..." Riya continues to mull over her party ideas. "Maybe we can have a crime theme? Unsolved mysteries?" She cackles to herself. "Ooh, I'm getting so many ideas now."

"It's not a big deal, Riya," I sigh. "It's just another day."

"Another day?" Riya glares at me with her bulging brown eyes, and I think that I'll be saved when the baby monitor lights up with Abhay's crying, but then Chandini's footsteps pound down the hallway toward his small nursery and I'm stuck against the wall, being scolded by my irritating cousin.

"This is your twenty-third birthday!" She exclaims, throwing her hands up like Mum used to do. "It's not just another day! We have to celebrate it, especially now that you have friends."

"Gee...thanks."

"No problem." Riya plops back on the bed and picks her notepad up. "I think the crime theme may be a bit too harsh, though. Maybe we can do a color theme? Pink and black suit your taste?"

"Yeah, sure." I roll my eyes. I'm not very invested in my upcoming birthday. I didn't even notice when I turned 22, much less remember that my birthday is approaching once again. Before, I used to get nightmares on my special day - remembering our family as a whole celebrating with each other; it used to wake me up with drenched clothes and salty cheeks. The bad dreams have numbed by now, but it still feels uncomfortable to remember or celebrate the day that I was born.

"I'll take care of the rest," Riya decides, abruptly shutting the notepad flap. She stands, slides on her slippers, and meanders to my old, chipped vanity that used to be Mum's. Unabashedly, she opens the drawers and rummages through the different boxes that I've kept in there.

"Sure, look at my things," I grumble. "I obviously don't care that you're putting your grubby hands on my stuff."

"Oh, hush," Riya scolds. She pulls out an ornate jewelry box and unclasps the lid, revealing soft velvet rows of fake and somewhat real rings.

"Are these yours?" She asks, inspecting the diamond-studded band of one of the rings.

"No, they were Mum's."

"Oh. What's your size?"

"My what?"

"Your ring size," Riya says. "What is it?"