OH OVERWHELMING LOVE!

✨CHAPTER 7✨

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This chap is affectionately dedicated to -
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"I hope the people and the things you are choosing are choosing you back............"

Vatsal stared at his phone, his father’s words echoing in his mind. He felt tense and clueless, a familiar sensation whenever he dealt with his father. It wasn’t just the harshness of the scolding; it was the underlying message that he was never good enough. This wasn’t new; his father had always been displeased with him. Phone calls from his father never meant care or concern—only complaints and comparisons.

Growing up, his elder brother Vishal had been the perfect son in their father’s eyes. Every achievement of Vishal’s was a measuring stick against which Vatsal was unfavourably compared. Now, it seemed there was a new competitor on the board: his wife. It was as if he could never win.

“Which father in the world does that?” Vatsal muttered to himself, his mood growing increasingly sour. He agreed he was worthless, good for nothing. But if that was true, why did his father care to expect anything from him? Why the constant complaints, disagreements, and insults?

His thoughts turned bitterly to Shubhita. She never had anything to say to him, yet she apparently had plenty to say to his father. Why did she behave like a goddess, an untouchable epitome of virtue?

In the noisy room, surrounded by friends who were now more of a distant blur, Vatsal felt utterly alone. He put his phone away, his mood ruined, his mind swirling with resentment and frustration. The party continued around him, but he was no longer a part of it, lost in his own storm of emotions.

Vatsal’s phone buzzed again, a message this time, but he ignored it. The laughter and chatter of his friends felt miles away, drowned out by the storm in his mind. His father’s scolding had always left him feeling hollow, but this time it was different. This time, the scolding was laced with comparisons to his wife.

He knew he wasn’t perfect. His father’s words had drilled that into him from a young age. Vishal had always been the golden child, the one who could do no wrong. Every time Vatsal fell short, his father would remind him of Vishal’s successes. And now, with Shubhita, the comparisons had taken a new turn.

His father’s words stung, not because they were new, but because they were true in a way he didn’t want to admit. Yes, Shubhita was managing a lot. Yes, she was working hard. But why did his father have to rub it in his face? Why couldn’t he acknowledge that Vatsal was trying, even if he was failing?