BOOK ONE OF THE SUGAR AND SWEET SERIES
Vanya Sharma hated marriages. Growing up seeing troubled and failed marriages carved a bitter spot in her heart, especially when one of them belonged to her parents. While escaping the shadows of her past, she...
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༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ
𝐊𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐧?
क्या करूं? खोयी खोयी सी है कहीं राहों में जिंदगी
📓
7:45 AM, 08 DECEMBER, SHARMA SADAN,B block, Green Park Extension, New Delhi - South, Delhi NCR
VANYA
The next morning comes earlier than I thought.
"Did you spend the night reading on that little devil's box again?" Mumma asks when I sit with a cup of coffee at the dining table. Yes, she is right. What I once thought was going to be a one-chapter read turned into me completing the whole book. Who needs sleep anyway?Not me, I say to myself, slurping on my coffee.
"Oh come on, you're the one to talk. I bet you were awake till one in the morning watching those reels," I remark, and my mother looks up from her phone, some WhatsApp status playing in the background that she saw irrelevant to pause.
"I look for inspiration! I have to be up to date with new trends you know," she excuses and I nod sarcastically.
"Anyway, what do you get from reading those dark-covered books all the time? I still don't see you getting any improvement," she bites back and I'm left thinking of excuses now.
"These books improve my English. And," I finally speak up, "they help me increase creativity." Maa rolls her eyes, her lips pursing into a thin line as she stares right into my eyes.
"You have been saying the exact thing ever since you were thirteen Vani. If it's taking you this long to improve your English, either burn these books or buy a new brain," she says, dipping the coconut biscuit into her chai.
I sigh again and she stands up, her tea cup now empty. "Remember, those men are just fictional. They will not appear outside of the books all of a sudden. You'll have to find a real man if you want a romance like that. So, you better come out of your little fantasy world because you won't find a man like that in real life if you're cooped up in your room every day," she pats my shoulder and for the first time in a week, I agree with her on something.
I wish those fictional hotties could be real, I whine in my head.
You still wouldn't have a chance, the demonic voice in my head aka my conscience interjects and I groan at the bitter truth.
You know that saying "face of an angel and mind of a devil?" that's what I am. That's what most of us bookworms are. Whores in our minds and a stuttering mess in real life. I can't even talk to a boy without my heart thundering like it's going to commit suicide inside my ribcage let alone marry one and live with him forever.
