Vaani:- "Ye kya kar rahe aap, hum gir jaayenge! Niche utaariye humein. Aan, put me down." In a surprise turn of events, she didn't even realised what she called him.
Aanvik:- "Don't ever call me that, only my family members are allowed to call me by...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Keratoconjunctivitis sicca, often known as dry eye syndrome, is a disorder in which the eyes do not produce tears, regardless of the situation. This disorder causes an inability to cry, regardless of how serious or emotional the situation is.
Although the syndrome is unusual and does not affect 95% of people, looking at myself, I seem to be the luckiest and God's favourite (note the sarcasm). I was still in the shower, hot, scorching water flowing down my body. It was so hot that it could easily cause blisters on your skin if you were in the water for too long, but even that kind of water could not make me cry out in agony.
Even though my body could feel the pain when the searing hot water met my skin, the stimulation did not reach the nerves in my eyes.
I needed to cry. I wanted to scream, but only my voice could convey my anguish because my eyes could not portray it. It has been said that a solitary tear can convey a wealth of emotion. Tears are shed in moments of happiness, as well as in times of love and grief. They can enhance the beauty and vibrancy of one's eyes. Indeed, tears serve as the gateway to these windows, which are often regarded as the portals to one's soul.
I think everyone in this family has an idea that I get raped every other day, I was 12 years old when it first happened. I recall racing to Chachi in a panic, pain exploding from every part of my body. I remember racing up to her and hugging her, hoping she would protect me from the devil, but when I told her what had occurred, she looked at me and questioned, "If you were raped, if he was forcing himself on you, why didn't you cry?" "I don't see a single tear in your eyes; your eyes are just boring." Then she hit me hard because she assumed I was lying and fabricating this heinous narrative. According to her, If something horrible happens to a person, it must be acknowledged through tears, and if there are no tears, it signifies you did the deed consensually.
Hearing such remarks from the woman who was supposed to take my mother's place that day rocked me to my core. And on that fateful day, a 12-year-old naive kid realized two things. First, she must mature and go out and earn so she can go to the doctor or some magician and ask for tears so she can cry, and second, the molestation, or rape, as her chachi described it, would not cease and no one in this family can help her.
Coming out of her thoughts, she hastily turned off the water and struggled to stand up and dry herself. She looked in the glass and saw those soulless bloated brown eyes looking back at her as if mocking and laughing at her for not defending herself.
She examined the cuts on her cheeks and forehead and then flinched at the sight of her bare body covered in markings and bruises. She bandaged the affected area and used cosmetics to conceal the facial scars. After she was finished, she took one more look in the mirror and almost spat on her reflection. People may think she is lovely, but when she glances in the mirror, she felt disgusted with herself, to the point where she wanted to trash her so-called gorgeous face and body.
She wore a loose T-shirt and shorts that did not touch her body. She flinched with each step toward her room. It physically hurt her; her body needed recuperation after the violence she had suffered. She walked with difficulty to her room, but as soon as she opened the door, the event from just moments before flashed across her memory.
Her eyelids closed tightly, and despite her best efforts, she could not stop herself from vomiting. She sat down with her back to the wall after puking her guts out, which consisted of nothing but water and blood. She was already in a lot of agonies, and throwing up made her stomach feel much more. Due to tiredness, her eyes began to close, but she forced herself to rise and tidy the room. She took the fragrant stick and lit it after cleaning.
She returned to her old position, her knees and chest touching and her head resting on her knees. A tiny smile appeared on her face as she stared at the watch. The door opened as expected, and she saw her life approaching her with a toothy smile and adoring dimples.
She stretched her arms wide, and the little child ran and leapt into them, nestling against her neck, and sighing sweetly. She winced inaudibly as he launched himself into her arms, but she could withstand any agony for him.
"Hello, baby. How did you spend your day today? Did you like your time at school? Did you discover anything new today? When she saw his beautiful smile, she asked him in a baby voice and cooed at him.
"Do you know, Mumma, February only has 28 days!" And every three years, God works his magic and adds an extra day! Do you believe it Mumma, this is cool." Zeeshan exclaimed excitedly as if he had the most astonishing truth up his sleeve. I chuckled and gasped as if I did not know what was going on.
We talked for almost an hour, him babbling in his baby voice about all he saw and did that day, and me looking at him with pride and love in my eyes. Zeeshan is my sister's son, she died when he was a year old, leaving him with me. I was 15 years old at the time. Initially, I was scared that Chacha would not let me keep him with me, but when I pleaded with him and entirely sold my body to him, he agreed.
I knew I was desperate then, but I didn't see any other options, so I chose the one option that my mind told me was correct. And thank God, I decided to sell my body since this ball of light is my life and my sole family. I would have been dead by now if it had not been for him.
He doesn't realize it, but he's living one life for the two of us, and I'm not sure what I'll do if he's gone. I cannot seem to keep away from him. He is my source of oxygen. My Shaan. While thinking all of this, I didn't realize I had a look of agony mixed with love on my face, but Zee noticed, and that smile went.
He cupped my face with his tiny fingers, his eyes grazing with anxiety. This kid is mature for a 5-year-old, and I hate that I am the reason. I tried, but failed miserably, to smile for his sake. I claim he has tears in his eyes, but before I can coax him out, he pulls himself together and gives me his best smile.
I sighed as I fell in love again while looking at his face. He hugged me tenderly and said, "I know you hide things from me, Mumma because you want to save me, but don't worry, when I get older, I will punish everyone who hurt my Mumma, but until then, I will find you someone better than Sameer Uncle and he will protect you on my behalf." As soon as he finished, I hugged him firmly and we both fell asleep, unaware of the commotion that would change my life forever.
So... 4th Chapter is completed, but why the hell Zee is so cute!!!! I love their bond. I hope you like the story... wherever it is going Please vote and Share... and if you are a little less lazy please comment!!!! Also check the book aesthetics on my Instagram ID:- undercover_sunshin3.
