Rewrite of my first book, the drizzling fire.
They have seperated their ways. Some things remained seen yet some remained hidden away in the time.
The water has no beginning nor the end, just like the anger which set his veins aflame.
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B R O K E N R E M N A N T S A N D S H A T T E R E D G L I M P S E S
O B E R O I S
Om placed the file on the table of his studio. It was covered in dust. He hasn't entered the room in ages.
Sixteen year old Om was sitting on the bench in their garden. He was holding his tears at bay.
Why couldn't his dad for once understand him?
"Here." A notebook was pushed into his hands. He turned to look at Shivaay. He was sitting on the bench beside him. His eyes were taking in the environment around them.
Om flipped the notebook.
It was a sketchbook.
His eyes brightened.
"Happy Birthday." Shivaay wished. Chuckling when Om hugged him tightly.
Om's eyes closed. His hands balled into a fist. And he suppressed the tears that threatened to fall. Not one tear he will shed to that man's name.
He looked around the studio in despair.
"Put them there." Om watched with excitement as Shivaay reached on his tiptoes to place the frame on the top shelf. They were reorganizing one of the guest rooms converting into Om's workplace.
He looked at his brother in admiration. He didn't have to fear a thing when he had his brother by his side.
Om's eyes glistened with the fresh set of tears. His eyes fell on the dusty frame seated in the heart of the room upheld on a small table.
It was them. Just three.
Now it was two.
He himself have pushed him away then why he was dying from inside? Why he was feeling like he have done something wrong? The feeling was torturing him to the core from the last six years.
Those six years which left nothing the same again.
No one the same again.
He looked at the frame carefully.
It was painted for him. It was Shivaay's favourite. He had it framed so that it could be treasured forever.
