*I hope you guys still remember that someone with the name Ms. Bhatia still exists *hehe**
*The author didn't really think much before posting it so please read at your own risk*
*I don't know if this update would make up for the wait or spoil it for you but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.*
*I have my final exam tomorrow but couldn't stop myself from posting this so please do leave comments and votes for the sake of my sanity to concentrate on my textbooks*
*Hoping with crossed fingers I didn't mess up. After reading, do come and tell me about it.*
*Happy Reading!*
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Author's POV
The gentle breeze pricked her skin, making her feel as if she was touched by ice. The muffled tick-tock of the clock no longer felt serene as she felt dread seeping deep down her bones. Every little sound from the premises scared her. She clutched the steel handle tightly, reassuring herself that she wasn't busted yet. What have I landed in? she asked herself time and again, but now it was of no use as she had stepped into her furry slippers all set to play with fire. Yes, she had entered the deadliest game of all where the moment the sound of snores stopped; You are dead.
People looked at you like you were participating in a crime as heinous as emptying their secret chocolate stashes from their pillow covers. This was truly a very scary game–the game of sneaking out.
Dilraj Singh Dhaliwal, you are so dead for putting me through this. Mehar gritted her teeth, cursing her husband. His simple text had turned her sleepless night into an adventurous one. He had very sweetly written, "Either you come out or I am coming in," like it wouldn't result in her cousin sleeping just beside her, getting up and teasing her until she looked like a tomato pulp.
Creaaakkkkkkkk....
Her death suddenly got real in every damn sense as she stilled. The wooden almirah had a freaking big mouth. As soon as she pulled the handle, it made a slow creaking sound, stretching for seconds until it opened fully, revealing her carefully organized set of clothes. Her head slowly snapped to Prabh's sleeping form sprawled on the bed and she looked as much as a corpse with an open mouth as it was when she was lying beside her, bearing half of her weight. Her cousin looked like a stick and weighed like a damn log.
Ignoring the rapid beats of her heart, she pulled out a fresh kurta set, knowingly wearing the color he disliked the most: yellow. She didn't care if she got late, but she wouldn't leave him easily. She sighed, remembering how all this started. She was peacefully sitting with their cousins, who had arrived like an uninvited guest a few hours back, making them forget about the conversation with Devaj.
