Her Stain

40.

Siya stared at her hands, after waking up. They were bandaged, her heart melting at the care given by her bestfriend. Siya knew Zoya couldn't handle the sight of blood, she'd turn pale at even the slight look at it.

Yet, when her hand was injured in the most bloody and messy way possible, she overcame her fears for her. Her heart ached, why couldn't she expect such care from her Mother?

As a young girl, her mother was her everything. Papa had always been out but her mother stayed with her all the while.

"Siya! Your breakfast is ready!" A delighted voice sounded from behind her, she looked up to see Zoya. Her eyes taking in her bestie, who was wearing a white dress, she chuckled. "Zoya, would you wear Indian wears in USA as well?"

True to her amusement, whilst Siya had qualms wearing different diversities of clothes, Zoya had always only been seen in Salvaar Kamiz or any other traditional wear. It wasn't that they were old fashioned or conservative, they just didn't like wearing flashy clothes themselves. Siya because she hadn't worn so, due to living in such toxic environment when growing up. If it weren't for her brothers that encouraged her to wear as she saw fit, Siya would most probably not ever be comfortable wearing western clothes.

Zoya on the other hand, wore kurti sheerly out of her own choice. She liked light weight Kurtis, even worn them over jeans. Zoya chuckled, shaking her head. "Pasand hai hame, Siya." She winked, "How else would I stand out?"

Both the friends were world's apart. Their language, whilst Siya had always been more open, Zoya had the habit of changing formal to informal and so on. Siya liked living simple, whilst Zoya thrived in royalty. So was the reason, why she never shared anything.

Red rims, blotchy red face. Tear stained cheeks, and puffy eyes. She seemed pale, but still radiated with an unadulterated radiance. She came and sat down beside Siya, with a quiet smile.

Siya's eyes taking in her face, but she didn't
question her. She knew wouldn't get an answer. She spoke, smiling down at her band-aid quietly. "Thanks for the patch work, Zo. Tere Bina...," she shook her head laughing softly.

Something akin to pain flashed Zoya's eyes but she smiled, shaking her head. "Emotional mat ho, humesha yahi rahenge hum." Siya looked at her, her heart breaking she spoke finally, "Pata hai...,yakin kiya tha Maine unpe." Siya didn't speak the name but understanding quickly flashed Zoya's eyes.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Sab ek jaise hai, Siyu. Teri maa, aur woh Rana sa bhi! Jaan lelungi mai unki, bas Nishant Bhai ko uthne de tu."

The door bell of her apartment rang, Siya looked up. Zoya got up, glancing at her. She spoke, "Indar Bhai hai, unhone kal raat call kiya tha."

Siya felt relief in her heart, atleast he didn't hate her.

Indar had sent some money online to Zoya last night, and called to let her know that Siya hadn't had dinner. After sitting in Zoya's rented Porche, Siya had passed out crying. It was then, when Indar called telling her he would visit her in the morning.

When the door opened, a red eyed Indar walked in. Still bruised, but the dark circles under his eyes were still very clear. He hadn't slept, Siya realised. Tears instantly sprung in her eyes, she got up hugging him. Indar stiffened, before quickly hugging her back despite his body screaming in pain.

God knew it had been days since she talked to him, and hugged him. After that night, Siya had closed herself around him, no matter how much he tried she wouldn't speak to him.

Yet now she clung to him as if he was her last floating board in a tsunami. He realised he'd do anything for her happiness. He had been bitter all these while, he realised her sadness was the guilt that weighed him down.