𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ♡

| CHAPTER 3 |

The sunrays peeked through the curtains and hit my face. For a few seconds, I just lay there, eyes half-open, feeling the calmness of the moment, birds chirping, leaves rustling outside, the air cool and fresh. It was beautiful… too beautiful for a Monday.

Urghhh it's Monday.

And then—my alarm screamed at full volume, ruining the vibe instantly. I groaned and smacked the clock.

There goes my peace.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and then it hit me....my first day at the new school. My heart started racing. Excitement and nervousness twisted together like two opposite threads.

"Okay, breathe, Ruhii…..just breathe," I told myself before rushing to the bathroom.

The cold water on my face was like a slap of reality. I brushed, showered, and slipped into my freshly ironed uniform. The smell of new fabric made it feel real.

And then came the hardest part. Not school. Not teachers. Not new people.

The braid.

There I stood in front of the mirror, holding my brush like a warrior about to go to battle, "Okay, Ruhii, we practiced this. Over, under, over...no, wait, was it under, over?"

Five minutes later, my braid looked like it had survived a tornado.

"Ughhhh! Why do I always mess this up?" I muttered. "How hard can it be? It’s literally just hair."

But no, my hair had other plans. It had its own chaotic personality.

Like seriously I don't know why I messed up i tried to learn so much but still I can't tie my hair. Trust me I am very bad at hairstyling my hair so definitely making braids is also too much for me.

I need my mom's help, so I run downstairs and ask her, "Mumma, can you please help me with my braid?"

She was sitting at the dining table with her glasses on, flipping through thick case files. Her coffee was half-drunk, and her eyes looked tired but focused. "Mumma, can you please help me with my braid?"

But she says, "Ruhi beta, not now. You need to learn to do this on your own. I won't always be there to help you. I'm reading an important case today for surgery."

Her tone wasn’t rude, but it was enough to make my heart sink a little.

"Oh… okay," I said quietly and went back upstairs.

This situation always happens to me - my parents are always so busy with their lives. They don't even ask if I've eaten or how I'm feeling or what happened at school. Am I feeling comfortable, in school? Did I have any friends?

I wasn’t blaming them. I knew their work mattered. But sometimes… I just wanted ten minutes. 10 minutes from their 24 hours. Was that really too much to ask?