Silent Ties: Fusion Of Hearts

Chapter 1

Author's POV:

Upon entering the house, Ishaan asks, "Why is it so noisy today?" in response to the bustling and lively scene around him. When his mother ignores him, he stops her as he sees her rushing back and forth. She yells at him, asking him if he forgot the date. They have a festival tomorrow, and she needs to get everything ready. It's only a festival, so it's nothing special, but you know how typical moms are. She demands perfection in everything. After entering his room, he hears a scream as he lies down to rest. He gets up, cursing whatever is going on. Walking down the corridor, he notices his mother crying and embracing someone. He cannot see who it is. After all, who is so short? Probably a relative, but who could Mom be so enthusiastic about? Her head is not visible (thinking). Realizing that only his beloved sister could elicit such a reaction from their mother, he exclaims in surprise. He, too, raises his voice upon identifying the person. It's a great surprise for them to see her after three years.

They hadn't seen each other in a long time because she was in Germany for her master's degree. Although she took a vacation, she didn't come back to meet them because she said she could stay and do some work. As soon as he gets closer, she leaps for a hug. He embraces her. Not seeing her for a long time has caused him to feel emotional. They initiate conversation. They walk down the hall after he asks how she came. She cheerfully replies that she wanted to surprise them, so she didn't inform them about her return. Ishaan is quite surprised, and he is sure everyone will be too after seeing her tomorrow. The timing of her arrival was perfect. After hours of talking, Zunaira(Zia's mom) starts shouting at Ishaan to let Zia settle down and freshen up so she can have something. Zia gets up to look around her room and the house.

Ishaan's POV:

After Zia left, I claimed her room for myself. Her room is a wonderful place to be. It is in a quiet part of the house with little activity. Perfect for a nerd like her. I enjoy it since there is very little noise and you can sleep soundly. Oh my goodness, I was so happy that I forgot how disorganized everything is right now. I'm apprehensive about her reaction, knowing she will reprimand me for the mess. I tarnished her lovely, small, quiet place. After not seeing us for three years, she ought to show some emotional decency, so I hope she doesn't. A loud shout reaches my ears. Even knowing that she would never put up with that, I was being overly optimistic. Seeing her puffing and huffing in rage, I bolted to the room. I know right away that there won't be any arguments-just get cleaned and leave her sacred space. I begin gathering my belongings, which aren't much because I already have a room to myself. It is somewhat larger than hers. I came here to study because it's quiet here since she moved to Germany. Our room-well, I don't believe I should say that because, out of 365 days, we only spend around 65 days there; the remaining days are spent there by visitors and family. That's another reason I adored her room-I wouldn't have to move. The bed is designed for a single occupant, making it impractical for sharing unless someone is willing to sleep on the floor. I was deep in concentration when I felt someone kick me in the back. I look at her, and she stands there, utterly engrossed in what I'm thinking about.

I give a nod, stating that it was insignificant, and begin gathering my belongings. My younger brother and father return at night, and they are ecstatic to see her as well. She is my dad's favorite child. Initially, I was his favorite. My father despised certain of her mannerisms, particularly her interactions with her mother. Oh, don't think she was harsh or anything; she was just really indulged before. She lacked that quality of care. It could be because she never lived with us when she was little. She used to reside with our grandmother (Nani).

Just like our mother, we refer to her as Amma (Nani). Before that, things weren't so well for my family, and our father used to work in Mumbai. According to our father, he arrived here when he was eleven years old. When he married my mother, she lived with her in-laws. Despite not having much money, we had a sizable quantity of real estate. Everything was inherited. My grandfather (dada) was an extremely hardworking individual. He did all he could. Afterward, my father moved to Mumbai by himself and began working. He married, and everything began to go smoothly. Things were going fairly well when my sister was born. Our community lacked quality schools, and the ones that did exist were rather distant. It was difficult to commute every day. My mother's hometown had a well-known school nearby.

After my mother persisted in getting her admitted there, she moved in with Amma. We couldn't have asked for a nicer family, and she arrived in Bombay in the eighth grade because the only good school there was to close after that year. She came here for further education, and that is how things worked out. She loved us very much, but she was highly pampered by my grandmother, so she didn't do much work, and my father despised it when my mother did all the work alone. All he needed was her assistance with a few things, which was one of the reasons he disliked her. But that was it because she was as perfect a child as one could hope for. She was talented. She excelled intellectually, religiously, and in all other aspects. The dread of our lives. The good student and the ideal neighbor's daughter type.

She was the role model for all the younger people in our house. For my brother and me, she was a good sister. She told us everything about herself, and we told her about all of our mischief. She was always aware of our crushes and girlfriends. We made a sibling pact in which we agreed to keep each other's secrets to ourselves. There were times when we breached that agreement in the heat of the moment when we were younger. However, we did attempt to remedy that subsequently. She offered us motivational speeches and instructions on what to do in case we got stuck. The nicest thing was that she was always there to defend us from everyone. She was always willing to fight beside us and for us. I can very clearly recall instances in ninth grade when she talked to someone who had threatened me. I am still grateful for all of her advice and for taking the time to be with us when we needed her.

The supper was fantastic; we had a lot of catching up to do, and Mom had made her favorite biryani. We sat down together and spoke until midnight when our mother rushed us to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow because of the festival. I lay down on my bed, thinking about everything that transpired today. That day was really exciting.

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