Realm of Love [Short Love Stories]

❅

People called me happy
But it was love, maybe?

I have a younger brother. Rohail Rehmaan. He is fourteen years old. He will be coming home anytime soon this week. He is living with our paternal relatives as it's his summer vacation. There's nothing more important to me in the world but him. I would do anything to protect him.

We smell tandoori as the waiter brings it to us. Latif screamed in delight. "Oh my god! Oh my god!"

"Latif, you act like a heroine when food is in front of you exactly like that ad of Snickers chocolate." Latif ignores Tanisha. "What do you mean like that ad? He acts better than Sonam in that ad in real life for food." Izma taunts him, making us laugh. "Don't judge me, Izma. If you judge me alot. Your husband will be a huge foodie."

"Shut up, dae saekkiya."

Izma and Dae Saekkiya were inseparable.

"I am waiting for crab." Moosa says. "Why wait?" I tease him. "You are crab, right?" Moosa smiles. "Only for you princess."

I cringe on the way he called. I have always hated the word princess. They are good except for Moosa for sure. I didn't expect myself to be so close with them as I sit and laugh the evening with them. I had always wished to be wanted as a friend, to be looked at and to be found as a friend to someone. But I was just a rich eldest daughter of the industrialist Asad Rehmaan and pilot Dariah Rehmaan in my school. Nobody knew what I was going through.

"Taniah?" Tanisha called.

"Yeah?"

"What do your parents do?"

I sigh. They don't know anything about me. I barely talk with them. It's just me listening to what they say continuously.

"My mother is a pilot." I thought the conversation would end. "Your father?" Latif asks.

"He was an industrialist."

"Was? Is he okay?" Tanisha asks.

"He is dead."

They stopped eating. Each one of them. I feel my throat paining, as the lump settles. I did not want to talk about this or I did not want to cry. "I am sorry." Tanisha says right after Omar. They shouldn't be. This is why I hated being with to talk about this. The silence killed me. "Are you ok?" Moosa asks. I look down. I was not ok. How do I tell them? My father died because of my mother. My mother is pressuring me with my studies. She is abusing me for things I do not deserve. Do I need to tell them? Do they need to know? No, they don't need this baggage. I didn't want to cry but the emotions were raw. I did not cry though.

"I am." I look up. "It's been five months already."

"What… happened?" Moosa asks again. How do I tell them? Mom's mental illness and her pressure for everything killed my father. How do I tell them? He was so stressed because of her behavior around me.