𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭

Part 1

Tara Sharma -
Adayein badi funky, kare hai nautanki
Yeh chhori badi drama queen hai
Badi-badi aankhen hai aansuon ki tanki
Yeh chhori badi drama queen hai.

--------

POV TARA

"TARA SHARMA, GET UP FAST! THIS IS THE LAST WARNING! IF YOU DON’T, I SWEAR I’LL THROW A WHOLE BUCKET OF WATER ON YOU!" Mom’s voice roared through the house, and let me tell you, that women do not make empty threats.

I woke up with a jerk. "MOM, YAAARRR!" I groaned dramatically. First day of 11th grade in a new school where my brother studies and this is how I’m being treated? I mean, why can’t schools start after lunch or something? Is that too much to ask?

"Stop groaning like a ghost and get moving! Manav is waiting for you downstairs," she barked and left the room, probably plotting new ways to ruin my life.

Dragging myself out of bed like a zombie, I shuffled to the washroom and taking my uniform I took the world’s quickest shower.

Soon after I got ready, I made my way downstairs. "Good morning, my lovely, perfect family!" I chirped dramatically, trying to hide my sleep-deprived soul.

"Good morning, my angel," Dad said, giving me a kiss on the forehead. Bless him—he’s the only one who treats me like a queen in this madhouse.

"Good morning, lazy ass," my brother Manav snorted. Ah, there he is—Captain Annoying reporting for duty.

"Good morning, you overgrown chimpanzee," I shot back, sticking my tongue out. If he was going to start, I was going to finish.

"For heaven's sake, can you both stop? The neighbors probably have started thinking that a wrestling match happens in our house daily," Mom said, walking in from the kitchen with a frying pan in hand. Not gonna lie, I got a bit scared.

After surviving breakfast banter, I headed to the pooja room for some divine intervention. Lighting an incense stick, I prayed, "Hey, Bhagwan ji, it’s my first day in this jungle of a school. Please, bless me to not embarrass myself. Also, let my school life be memorable—not the bad kind, pretty please!!"

Feeling semi-blessed, I returned to find my brother tapping his watch like he was some big-shot CEO late for a board meeting. "Monkey, let’s go! We’re getting late!" I yelled, tying my shoelaces in lightning speed.

"But at least have your breakfast!" Dad protested, looking at me like I’d committed a crime against humanity.

"No time, Dad! If we’re late, Monkey will cry like a baby," I said, grabbing my bag. Before he could reply, I gave him and Mom a quick hug and ran out the door.

Monkey was already on his bike, carefully setting his hair while staring intently into the rearview mirror, like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Bas karo baal banana! Itna banate rahoge toh pata chale jo do-chaar baal bache hain, woh bhi na jhad jaye," I teased, crossing my arms dramatically.

(Stop fixing your hair! If you keep doing it, the few strands you have left might fall out too.)

He shot me a deadly glare. "Huh, stop getting jealous of my gorgeous hair, you rabbit," he retorted, striking a pose and flipping his imaginary luscious locks.

"Jealous? Of you? Hahahaha! That’s the joke of the century!" I laughed right in his face, which—let’s be honest—was the highlight of my morning.

"Bas kar daant dikhana aur baith jaldi! Nahi toh tujhe yahi chhod ke chale jaunga phir paidal aana khud hi," he snapped, clearly offended as he revved the bike to make his point.