Let Me ....... Love You

Chapter 2 🍀Strangers🍀

Hey lovely writers!

 I'm back with the second chapter of my story. 

listen to the song along with and enjoy !!

Nikhil

The morning sun filters through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. I blink, adjusting to the light, and take a deep breath: another day, another set of challenges waiting for me. I slide out of bed, the cool floor under my feet grounding me in the present.

My morning routine is simple but essential, a few moments of stillness before the day takes over. After a quick shower, I dress in my usual crisp white shirt and charcoal trousers, the uniform of an architect ready to tackle the world. As I button my cuffs, I hear my mother's voice drifting from the kitchen.

"Nikhil, breakfast is ready," she calls, her tone warm and inviting.

I smile, grateful for the consistency she brings to my life. Stepping into the dining room, I find her setting the table with a spread that could rival any five-star hotel, a habit she refuses to let go of, even though it's just the two of us most mornings.

"Good morning, Maa," I greet her, leaning in to place a gentle and affectionate kiss upon her cheek.

She beams at me, her eyes crinkling with affection. "Good morning, beta. How did you sleep?"

"Well enough," I reply, taking my seat. The aroma of her perfectly brewed coffee is the best wake-up call.

As we begin to eat, I can't help but notice the empty seat at the head of the table. My father, Mr. Rajesh Joshi, is usually up by now, already engrossed in his morning routine of reading the newspaper. 

But today, he's late. Or maybe he's avoiding me ....again.

The thought brings a familiar tightness to my chest. Our interactions have been strained for years, a cold war fought in silence. It's the unspoken tension that lingers between us, unresolved and ever-present.

 I felt my mind filled with thoughts: 

when I stood in my father's dimly lit room, the soft glow from the bedside lamp cast long, stretching shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of quiet introspection. My eyes were drawn to my father's old army uniform, neatly hung in the closet. 

The years had weathered the fabric and bore the marks of history and sacrifice. As I gazed at the uniform, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over me, stirring memories of Pride, respect, and frustration swirl together in a confusing mix. 

As I was growing up, I greatly admired him for his remarkable discipline, formidable strength, and unwavering sense of duty. But somewhere along the line, admiration turned into suffocation. 

My father was always the perfect soldier, strong, brave, and unyielding. But that unyielding nature didn't just apply to his military career; it seeped into every aspect of his life, including how he raised me. 

He expected perfection, discipline, and a rigid adherence to the rules. Anything less was met with disappointment, sometimes even disdain. 

I remember the day I told him I wanted to pursue architecture instead of following in his footsteps. The look on his face still haunts me, a mixture of disbelief and anger. He didn't say much, but his silence spoke volumes.