OH OVERWHELMING LOVE!

✨CHAPTER 30✨

"I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions...................."

The sun dipped low in the sky as Vatsal and Shubhita finally made their way back home. The day had been long and somewhat taxing, filled with more serious undertones than either had anticipated. While they exchanged words, there was a noticeable absence of the playful banter that usually flowed so easily between them. Instead, their conversations were peppered with contemplation and the occasional sigh, as if they were both lost in their own thoughts.

Once they reached the apartment, a quiet stillness settled over them. Vatsal came out of the washroom after which Shubhita went straight to change out of her day clothes, while Vatsal, feeling the weight of the day, slouched onto the mattress with a groan. He flipped through his phone absentmindedly, not really focusing on anything.

As Shubhita re-entered the room, she noticed Vatsal still lounging, his body sprawled out as if he had no intention of moving anytime soon. She watched him for a moment, her own thoughts swirling. But then her gaze shifted to the washroom door, and her brow furrowed. The sight of the damp floor tiles peeking out from beneath the door sent a new wave of determination surging through her.

Her patience, she realized, was beginning to wear thin.

“Vatsal,” she called, her voice firm but laced with the hint of a request, “The washroom is a mess again.”

Vatsal didn’t look up from his phone, his thumb still lazily scrolling. “Hmm? What did you say?”

“I said, the washroom is a mess,” she repeated, a bit more insistently this time, stepping closer. “Can you please go and fix it?”

Vatsal finally glanced up, his face etched with a mixture of exhaustion and mild irritation. “Shubhita, I’ve been doing everything you’ve asked for the past three days. Don’t you think I deserve a little break? I need a vacation—no, scratch that—a long one.”

His tone was joking, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of truth in his words. Shubhita’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest, her stance indicating that she wasn’t about to back down.

“A vacation?” she scoffed, “You’ve barely done the bare minimum! The washroom is all wet; it looks like a hurricane blew through there!”

Vatsal leaned back against the couch, arms stretched out along the pillows, his posture the epitome of nonchalance. “Well, water’s job is to make things wet, isn’t it? That’s what it does.”

Shubhita’s mouth fell open in disbelief at his casual dismissal. She stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just trying to provoke her. “And,” she countered sharply, “by that logic, there should be a wiper’s job too, to clean up the mess!”

Vatsal smirked, clearly amused by her growing frustration. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of a little water, Shubhita. It’ll dry on its own, eventually.”

Shubhita could feel her patience fraying at the edges. It wasn’t just about the wet floor—this was about something deeper. She was tired of picking up after him, of silently doing things that he should have been responsible for. And now, when she was finally standing her ground, he was shrugging it off like it was nothing.

“No, Vatsal, it won’t ‘dry on its own’,” she snapped, her voice rising in pitch. “It’s not about the water; it’s about you taking responsibility!”

Vatsal sighed, finally putting his phone down and sitting up straight. He looked at her with an expression that was part exasperation, part fondness. “I get it, okay? But can’t it wait? I’m just really tired right now.”