When you smile

Chapter 32

Arya's P.O.V.

The clock's relentless march brings me closer to midnight, its hands tracing the slow path of time against the backdrop of darkness. I lie there, wide awake, a spectator to the symphony of night. The room is a cavern of shadows, but my mind buzzes with thoughts, rendering sleep a distant fantasy. The room is full of shadows, like a secret hideout for thoughts that won't let me sleep.

Shifting my gaze, I land on Meghna's deserted bed, just a stone's throw away, the sheets lie undisturbed. The sheets are neat and untouched, like a blank page waiting for a story. I know her really well, maybe even better than she knows herself. I've got her figured out better than anyone else. Almost too well. The bathroom is where she usually goes when things get tough, the one place where her façade cracks and she can let it all out.  This battle is hers alone, a storm she has to weather on her own, no matter how much I wish I could shield her from it.

Deep within me, there's a powerful volcano, ready to explode with a fire that could turn this whole city to ashes. Let's forget about the usual stuff that doesn't matter. Meghna deserves happiness without any complications. Ahan should have a real chance at love without all the noise from society. Family pressure? It's like a really bad and cheesy dad joke, especially when you put it next to this strong, all-encompassing connection.

Ah, family expectations—almost like a worn-out, predictable joke that makes you cringe, much like an overused dad quip. Granted, these traditions and familial pressures have their place, of course... but aren't they rooted in love, to begin with? The connection between Meghna and Ahan is so darn genuine that it shrinks these obstacles to puny specks, like trying to block a raging river with a tissue. Perhaps it's time to set aside the rigid playbook and allow them to chart their own course.

Meghna and Ahan? They deserve the freedom to love without society's prying eyes casting a shadow. Ahan's father is running a college but his thinking is fossilized in the era of dinosaurs.

And then, just like a lightning bolt that slices through the midnight sky, the door creaks open. I whip my head toward the sound, my senses jolted to attention. Meghna stands there, a small cupcake in her hand, its single candle flickering with a tiny, determined flame. My eyes narrow, confusion mingling with something else I can't quite put a finger on.

"Happy birthday, Arya!" Meghna's voice carries an unusual excitement, and she steps into the room, the soft light tracing her outline. She moves closer, the cupcake cradled gently, her eyes shimmering with a curious blend of mischief and affection.

 My heart does a drumroll in my chest, like an unexpected guest knocking at the door of my consciousness. Birthday? I hadn't even registered that today was the day. But there it is, a simple cupcake crowned with a solitary candle, a tiny beacon of light in the midst of my thoughts.

Meghna's voice, usually reserved for her own hidden battles, now fills the space with a melody I had almost forgotten. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

The initial shock fades into a curious mix of surprise and amusement. Did she seriously remember my birthday? The irony isn't lost on me. I watch her, the candle's flickering light casting intriguing shadows on her face. This is Meghna, my seemingly enigmatic sister, who guards her feelings behind a facade.

As the song concludes, I can't help but scoff, a defensive response masking a surge of emotion. "Really, Meghna? You could make a deaf person's ears bleed with that singing."

A mischievous glimmer dances in her eyes. "Well, your ears seem to be holding up just fine, so I'll take that as a win." I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch upwards in spite of my resistance. "Sure, sure. Just give me the cupcake before you turn into a full-blown musical."