RUINATION OF DESIRES [SLOW UPDATES]

1. Lonely Moon🌙

The moonlight slipped softly through the window, lighting up the room with a faint, silvery glow. A young woman sat by the window, dressed in a simple pink salwar kameez. Her loose braid hung over her shoulder, with a few strands falling around her face. 

Her fingers rested on the cold window frame as the breeze touched her face, but she stayed still, lost in her thoughts. She didn't know what she was thinking; her mind felt heavy, like a book full of stories she couldn't open. The moon, with its scars and cracks, seemed to reflect her life. It shone, but not perfectly, and she felt the same way—trying to live but carrying pain too deep to show.

Her eyes filled with a quiet sadness as she stared at the moon, her heart aching in a way she couldn't describe. She was like the moon—there for everyone to see but truly alone. There were no stars to brighten her sky, just as there was no one to share her life.

She sighed softly, her chest tightening as the silence of the night surrounded her. Somewhere deep down, she wished for her life to be full again, but the emptiness scared her. And so, she just sat there, staring at the lonely moon, hoping for something to change, even if she didn't know what.  

"Aarvi, dinner is ready," called out her mother from the doorway. Aarvi turned away from the empty sky, her thoughts interrupted, and saw her mother standing there with a soft smile. It wasn't genuine, though; Aarvi knew it was just another mask of sweetness and care, a charade her mother had perfected over the years. Aarvi nodded silently, her face blank, and stood up to follow her downstairs.

The Mishras were a middle-class family, and their modest home reflected their struggles. Aarvi made her way to the dining table, where her mother had already placed the food. She slid into her seat beside her aunt and mother, her movements quiet and restrained, as if trying not to draw attention to herself.

Her aunt, as usual, began chatting about the day—mostly complaints about the neighbors, rising grocery prices, and the little annoyances of life. Her mother chimed in occasionally, playing the role of the patient listener, but Aarvi stayed silent. The noise around her felt distant, like she was watching a play she wasn't part of.

The food on her plate remained untouched as she pushed it around with her fork, her mind drifting back to the empty sky she had just been staring at. Even in a room full of people, Aarvi felt alone, her heart weighed down by emotions she couldn't voice. She glanced at her mother, who was laughing softly at something her aunt had said, and for a moment, Aarvi wondered if the mask ever came off or if it had become her mother's reality.

Aarvi's gaze dropped back to her plate. She forced a small bite, knowing the questions would start if she didn't eat. Her mother glanced at her briefly, her eyes sharp despite the smile, as if silently reminding Aarvi to keep up appearances. Aarvi swallowed the food, not because she was hungry, but because it was easier than explaining why she wasn't.

Her father broke through the chatter, his voice calm but direct. "Aarvi beta, did you get your salary?"

[Kyun tujhe kya karna hai buddhe?]