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The monsoon rains had finally arrived in Delhi, bringing a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. The streets glistened with fresh raindrops, and the air was filled with the earthy scent of wet soil. But for Kavya, the rain did little to wash away the bitterness that clung to her heart.
Kavya stood at the window of her small bedroom, watching the world outside. The narrow alleyways of her neighborhood bustled with life as children splashed in puddles and vendors hawked their goods. She could hear the distant laughter of her classmates, a sound that seemed to mock her solitude.
“Kavya, come help me in the kitchen!” her mother’s voice called from downstairs.
She sighed and tore her gaze away from the window. As she descended the worn wooden stairs, the familiar sense of dread settled over her. Her mother, Sunita, was a stern woman, hardened by years of struggle. She loved her daughter, but her love was often masked by harsh words and high expectations.
“Kavya, how many times have I told you? You need to learn these things if you ever want to be a good wife,” Sunita scolded as she handed Kavya a basket of vegetables to chop. “Look at your friend Dia. She’s already so skilled, and she’s younger than you.”
Kavya’s grip tightened on the knife. Dia. Even the mention of her name stung. Dia was everything Kavya was not—fair-skinned, beautiful, and effortlessly graceful. The two had been inseparable since childhood, but lately, Kavya felt an invisible wall growing between them, built brick by brick by society’s prejudices.
“Yes, Maa,” Kavya replied, keeping her eyes on the vegetables. She knew better than to argue.
As the day wore on, Kavya’s thoughts kept drifting back to the last time she and Dia had spoken. It was at school, during lunch. They had been talking about the upcoming cultural festival, a highlight of the school year. Kavya had been excited to participate in the dance performance, but Dia had seemed distracted.
“I don’t think you should join the dance, Kavya,” Dia had said, almost too casually.
“What? Why not?” Kavya had asked, taken aback.
Dia had looked away, her fingers playing with the edge of her dupatta. “It’s just...maybe it’s better if you don’t. You know how people talk.”
The implication was clear, and it cut deeper than any insult. Kavya’s dark skin made her an outsider, even to her closest friend.
Back in the kitchen, Kavya felt a tear slip down her cheek, blending with the drops of rain on the window pane. She wiped it away quickly before her mother could notice.
As evening approached, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Kavya finished her chores and retreated to her room, seeking solace in her books. Reading was her escape, a world where appearances didn’t matter, and everyone was judged by their actions, not their looks.
She was deep into a novel when she heard her mother’s voice again, this time more urgent. “Kavya! Come down, there are guests!”
Guests? This late? Kavya wondered as she set her book aside and hurried downstairs. Her heart sank when she saw who it was—Mr. Sharma, a wealthy businessman, and his son, Arjun. Her mother had been talking about arranging a marriage for Kavya, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
“Kavya, meet Arjun,” Sunita said, her tone unusually cheerful. “He’s come to see you.”
Kavya forced a polite smile as she greeted them, but inside, she felt like screaming. This was her fate, decided without her consent. She barely knew Arjun, yet here he was, sizing her up like a piece of property.
Arjun, however, seemed different. He had kind eyes and a warm smile, but Kavya was too hurt and angry to notice. As they exchanged pleasantries, she felt like a spectator in her own life, watching helplessly as the decisions were made for her.
That night, as she lay in bed, Kavya thought about the path ahead. She felt trapped, a pawn in a game she didn’t want to play. But somewhere deep inside, a spark of defiance flickered. She might have to marry Arjun, but she would not let this define her. She would find her own way to shine, even if it meant battling the shadows of prejudice and societal expectations.
For now, all she could do was endure. But one day, she promised herself, she would break free.
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Author aradhya✨
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Tears Of Pain
Short Story--- **Tears of Pain** In the vibrant and bustling streets of Delhi, a young girl named Kavya navigates the challenges of growing up with darker skin in a society that often values fairness. Despite her kind heart and bright spirit, Kavya faces ridic...
