✨️"Love's Everlasting Triumph"✨️
A collection of short stories
Discover diverse tales of love's enduring power. This anthology features heartwarming stories of timeless romance and modern connections, celebrating love that triumphs against all odds.
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I awoke to the soft light filtering through the curtains, feeling the familiar dread of a reprimand. Last night's scolding from Mumma echoed in my mind. I groaned, stretching under the covers before reluctantly getting up.
"Prisha!" Mumma's voice called from downstairs. "Nashta taiyar hai, aur der mat karna!"
"I'm coming, Mumma!" I shouted back, quickly slipping out of bed. I winced at the thought of facing her. Yesterday, I forgot to help with dinner as I promised, leaving mumma and bhabhi to manage everything alone .
I dressed quickly in beige formals, hoping my professional attire would soften the tension. I smoothed my hair and took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable.
When I stepped into the living room, my nephew Ishaan's giggles greeted me. He was playing on the floor, surrounded by colorful toys. His chubby face lit up when he saw me, and I couldn't resist crouching down to tickle him.
"Good morning, little man," I cooed, lifting him into my arms. His laughter was infectious, and I felt some of my anxiety melt away.
"Prisha, come to the table," Mumma's voice broke through our moment. I glanced up to see her and bhabhi setting the table. Papa and bhaiya were already seated, chatting and reading the morning news.
"Coming, Mumma," I said, carrying Ishaan to his high chair. I took my seat, trying to gauge Mumma's mood. She seemed preoccupied with serving breakfast, but the tension was still there.
"Good morning, everyone," I said, attempting a bright tone.
"Morning beta," Papa replied, giving me a reassuring smile.
Mom finally looked at me, her expression stern. "Prisha, you need to be more responsible. Kriti aur main sab kuch akele nahi kar sakte."
"I'm sorry, Mumma. Kaam mein itna busy thi ki waqt ka pata hi nahi chala," I explained, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
"Bas thoda dhyan do," she said, her tone softening slightly.
Breakfast was a mix of delicious dishes parathas, fresh fruit, and chai. I focused on the food, trying to ignore the lingering tension. The conversation turned to lighter topics, and soon everyone was laughing and chatting.
"Do you remember the time when Prisha tried to make parathas for the first time?" Bhaiya teased, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Oh no, don't remind me!" I laughed, shaking my head. "They were more like crispy chips than parathas!"
Mumma chuckled, adding, "Yes, but you've come a long way since then. Now your parathas are perfect!"
"Thanks, Mumma. Practice makes a man perfect," I said, feeling a bit more at ease.
Bhabhi chimed in, "Speaking of cooking disasters, do you all remember the time when Bhaiya tried to make chai and ended up with a kitchen full of smoke?"
