Hot. Handsome. Hazel eyes.
These were the first things I noticed about Mr Cricketer when I first met him.
The final year of high school was supposed to be predictable, dull, and stressful-just a bridge to be crossed before moving on to college. Bu...
haaye menu ki ho gya, dil janiye, haaye menu ki ho gya🎵
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Leaning the back of my waist against the kitchen counter, I gripped onto the hard granite, sighing. The indistinct chatter of the get-together outside felt like the buzzing irritating sound of bees to my ears.
Slowly sipping on the water from the steel glass, I tried to extend this visit to the kitchen for the maximum possible time until my absence in the dining room became noticeable to the dearest mother of mine.
Perpetually tired and annoyed.
That's how I have been ever since I began my twelfth-grade classes this year. The constant pressure of preparing well for the competitive exam that I had to give this year, juggling school and coaching classes simultaneously was hectic and never gave me any time to laze around.
Yes, I was lazy. And not the ordinary kind of lazy, it was Khumbhkaran's-level kind of lazy.
I loved to just sit around in vain, with the TV running as a background noise while I did absolutely nothing. It was once my most favourite thing to do.
But lazing around or relaxing wasn't an option anymore. I could barely complete my seven hours of sleep on most days now.
It was the last day of my summer holidays and instead of completing my remaining homework and going to sleep early to prepare for the school day tomorrow, I was standing here in the kitchen at ten in the night, praying for this torture to end.
My parents had invited the new family in our neighbourhood for dinner tonight. They had shifted in the house next to us just a few days ago and apparently, Mr Jain, a high-high ranking officer in some bureaucratic government department, that I couldn't remember the name of, was one of my dad's friends during his college days.
Facing towards the wide kitchen window behind me, I put the half-empty steel glass on the counter.
The June rains had just begun, dewing the transparent glass of the window. I could see the faint light from the street lamp that was right outside our house, seeping in through panes and the shadows of running street dogs on the main street, their nightly howls resounding through the noise of their steps in muddy puddles.
I unlatched the window lock to let the cool air in.
The sweet smell of petrichor immediately filled my senses, as I breathed, smiling and taking in the soothing scent.
A voice coming from behind broke my moment of tranquillity, "Oh, hey! Your mom is saying-"
The sentence ceased when I turned towards the door.
