A World Without Fire

B. Potatoes Romance

Vishwash is crying as if I've died. I boarded the train and reached Mumbai. There, I visited a few art galleries. It feels nice, but I can't afford anything. I love sketching and art, and though I've never created anything good myself, I visit these galleries and give myself the illusion that I've achieved something great.

I just finished college, and honestly, I haven't done much with my life. I checked my phone and saw a message from my mom:

"Bring some potatoes on your way home."

"Okay, mom."

I took a taxi home. When I arrived, my mom saw me for the first time in about 3 years. Her first question? "Did you bring the potatoes?"

"Yes, I did," I replied with irritation in my voice.

"You like potatoes, right? I'm making potato halwa for you—it's your favorite," she said.

Suddenly, I heard a girl laughing behind me. She had glasses on and a book in one hand. For some reason, just looking at her face annoyed me.

"What?" I asked.

"Who even likes potato halwa?" she said with a smirk.

I turned to my mom and asked, "Mom, did you adopt another child? I told Dad—no more kids!"

My mom glared at me. "Shut up, you idiot! You still haven't learned how to speak properly. She lives in the room next to yours—it was empty, so I rented it out."

"Mom, I told you not to take any tenants."

"Fine, you pay 10,000 rupees, and I won't keep one!"

"Mommmmm!" My mother is as straightforward as I am. She does whatever she thinks is right. Being an only child with no siblings, I have no one to share my frustrations with. I used to think it would've been better if I had a sibling. At least I wouldn't have to deal with my mom alone.

I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs. I shot the girl an annoyed look as I passed her. Who would've thought someone would live in the haunted-looking room next to mine? Four years ago, it was a wreck, but my mom got it renovated.

Once inside my room, I unpacked my bag, put all my clothes in the wardrobe, and arranged the trophies I'd won in chess. Chess is my life. I earn some pocket money by making tutorial videos on it.

Having a open roof house in Mumbai is a blessing, and the city has its own charm. If I hadn't had that fight with my mom four years ago, I wouldn't have left Mumbai. My mom and I never see eye to eye. I thought she'd understand me one day, but that day has yet to come.

Just then, the girl came in and handed me a bowl.

"Aunty sent halwa," she said.

"I don't want it," I replied.

"Are you sure? It used to be your favorite," she teased.

"What's it to you?" I snapped.

She smirked, closed the door of roof, and handed me a cigarette.

"Here, calms your mind!"

"There's no need to act all nice!" I said, glancing at the cigarette. "I don't smoke."

"Yeah, right! Look at your lips—I can tell you're a smoker. People who smoke have lips just like yours."

I turned to her with a teasing smile and said, "Oh, so you've been noticing my lips?"

She got nervous and didn't respond, just smiled awkwardly as if she didn't want to answer. This girl seems weird. She wore a suit and salwar with a dupatta that slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was messy, with a few strands falling onto her face. It looked like she had applied lipstick but had eaten most of it, leaving her lips dry.

I noticed all of this the moment I looked at her. It doesn't matter. it's just my habit to observe people's behavior and study every detail about them. Strange, but that's who I am. She left the room while I was lost in thought.

I looked at the halwa and muttered, "Fine!"

I took a bite, and it felt like I had tasted heaven. It was so good that I couldn't help but smile.

Just then, I noticed her standing at the door, watching me with a smile. On the surface, she seems shy and innocent in front of my mom, but she's nothing like that. She's definitely not the innocent type. I'll have to stay cautious around her.