SHIDDAT ~ Where Love Burns With The Flames of Passion

A Month of Absence

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Yagyhavi's pov:

"Shona, come downstairs, breakfast is ready!" I heard Baba calling me from the hall.

"Haan Baba, coming!" I replied, quickly putting my phone on charge and switching the button on before getting up to head downstairs.

I had asked my company for a few days of work from home, and they approved it, so I had been working from home for the past few days.

"Good morning, Baba," I said as I reached the dining area.

The table was already set, with everything neatly arranged.

I glanced toward the kitchen, hoping to see Rama Aunty, our house helper.

"She has already left. She made the breakfast and lunch and then she left," Baba said, probably noticing my searching gaze.

"Oh! Okay. So you set the table today?" I asked, pouring tea into a cup to hand to him.

"Yes. Why? Can't I do it? You always do it every morning. Since you were upstairs, I thought I'd take care of it today," Baba replied casually, sitting in his usual spot and picking up the newspaper.

I smiled at his effort.

"It looks great, Baba! Thank you!" I said, handing him the tea.

He took it with a nod, still focused on the news.

As I sat down at the table with Baba, my mind drifted away into my own thoughts.

My breakfast plate was in front of me, but I hardly noticed it.

"Shona, how's work going?" Baba asked suddenly, breaking me out of my daydream.

His voice was filled with concern.

"Is Everything okay?" He asked.

I looked up, surprised.

It wasn't usual for Baba to notice changes in my behavior or to ask me openly if I was doing fine or not.

He cared for me, of course, but he never showed it like this.

I was not used to someone asking me directly about how I felt, especially not him.

"Uh, I'm fine, Baba. Just a little busy with work, that's all," I replied quickly, not wanting to worry him, even though his concern was sweet.

Baba studied my face for a moment, and I could see he wasn't convinced.

"You seem a bit lost these days. You speak less than usual," he pointed out gently.

I felt a mix of emotions.

It was nice to know he cared, but it also made me feel vulnerable.

I had always kept my worries to myself and dealt with my feelings on my own because, firstly, I did not want to burden him.

Secondly, that's how I had learnt to manage my whole life. My mother had died when I was born, and after her death, Baba became closed off emotionally.

He spoke very little to me, and it felt like a wall had grown between us.

My brother, Ekansh bhai, was the only one who really understood me, the one person I could turn to for comfort.

But he suddenly disappeared from my life one day, leaving a gap that felt impossible to fill.

So, I wasn't used to someone asking me directly if I was okay, or showing that they cared about me, or noticing changes in my behavior.