𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒
What happens when
𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐀 - the girl who mastered the art of being unseen,
stitched together with silence and scar tissue,
haunted by the ruins of love and friendsh...
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We were snapping photos of the sky and sunset, completely lost in the moment, when my phone buzzed—it was Vedika Di.
The signal here was patchy, but thanks to an app Eve had installed on my phone with Di's help, I could still receive calls.
"Evyaan, where's Samayara? We've been trying to reach her, but she's not answering. Is she alright? And why hasn't she installed the app I told Eve about?" Vedika Di's voice carried a sharp edge of concern.
I realized we'd lost track of time—and our phones. Cursing under my breath, I quickly reassured her. "Di, she's with me. You can video call my phone instead."
When the call connected, Samayara leaned into the screen, her voice steady yet apologetic. "I'm sorry, Di, Maa, Papa. My battery died, so I left my phone in the room and came here to clear my head."
I stepped back, staying out of the frame, suddenly feeling like an intruder in their conversation.
Their exchange was warm and genuine—almost surreal. It reminded me of the perfect, shiny families you see in movies. Turns out, they do exist.
Just... not for everyone.
As their conversation wound down, an affectionate voice called out to me.
"Evyaan beta, how are you? Are you okay?" her mother asked, concern lacing every word.
"I'm more than perfect, Aunty, now that you've asked," I replied, trying to keep my grin in check.
But Samayara caught it, her expression a mix of amusement and confusion. Her gaze made me feel seen—like I'd just been caught slipping into a moment of comfort I wasn't used to.
"Thank God, beta. You've handled everything so bravely. We're very proud of you," her dad added, his voice steady and warm.
For a moment, I felt something unfamiliar—genuine appreciation. It swelled in my chest, quiet but overwhelming. His words landed deeper than I expected, lifting a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying.
Samayara seemed brighter after speaking with her parents, her smile softer, more at ease—like their words had wrapped around her and made the world feel safer again.
"Is it possible that you might like my mother?" she asked cautiously, her face unreadable.
"What? No, I... I just appreciated how affectionate she was," I replied, half-scoffing, caught off guard by her question.
"Thank God," she said, feigning relief before breaking into laughter. "For a second there, I thought it was weird because you were literally smiling ear to ear while replying."
She wasn't wrong—I probably did look like a kid who'd just been handed his favorite candy. But I didn't regret it.
"Yeah, okay. Maybe I was a little too happy," I admitted as her laughter made me chuckle, too. The hours slipped by unnoticed.
