𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐰𝐢

"74. Rishwik's Birthday"

"Unki sundarta kisi shringaar ki mohtaaj nahi,
Meri duniya roshan karne ko unki bas ek muskaan hi sahi."

-Vaidehi
(Fictionflare_)

The next morning, Rishwik woke up to the sound of his alarm, a wide smile already stretched across his face. Without a second thought, he tossed the blanket and pillow off the bed in excitement, silenced the alarm with a quick tap, and swung his legs over the edge. Humming to himself, he swung his legs off the bed and slipped his feet into his slippers, ready to start the day with the same energy and happiness bubbling inside him.

Rishwik: "Jaldi se ready hoke niche jaata hu, ab tak toh sabko yaad aa gaya hoga, 2 min naraz rahunga phir Maan jaunga."
(Let me get ready quickly and go downstairs. By now, everyone must remember it's my day. I'll stay upset for two minutes and then forgive them.)

Rishwik grinned to himself, lost in his own little world of excitement. Without wasting a second, he dashed into his closet like a boy with a secret mission and began rummaging through his clothes, tossing aside shirts and jackets in search of something new and perfect. His energy was infectious, as if he was dressing up for a moment he had been eagerly waiting for.

Rishwik: "yaar kya pehnu, vaise toh kuch bhi pehnu kamaal hi lagta hu, par kuch toh mast hoga na mere pass...."
(What should I wear? Honestly, I look amazing in anything, but I must have something really cool...)

Rishwik rummaged through his closet like a man on a mission, tossing hangers from side to side, diving into the shelves as if he were on a high-stakes treasure hunt. Clothes flew around him, some landing on the ottoman, others barely making it out of the closet. After minutes of chaotic searching, and a triumphant "aha!" moment, he finally found the outfit. With a satisfied grin, he clutched the clothes and sprinted into the washroom, the excitement practically trailing behind him like a breeze.

After some time, the washroom door opened with a soft click, and Rishwik stepped out, draped in a bathrobe, still humming to himself. He quickly changed into his chosen outfit—a crisp white shirt tucked into perfectly-fitted blue jeans, layered with a black tee on top. He folded up the short sleeves of the t-shirt effortlessly, letting the layers show just the right amount, adding that casual charm he always carried so well.

He stood before the mirror, combing his hair with precision and intent, making sure each strand obeyed his styling command. Once satisfied, he clasped a sleek, classy black watch on his wrist, then slid on his fresh white sneakers. He spritzed his favorite perfume, the kind that left a warm, clean scent in his wake, and grabbed his signature black goggles, tucking them coolly into the front of his shirt.

He gave himself one final look in the mirror, straightened his collar slightly, smirked at his own reflection, and lifted his phone. With perfect lighting, a confident pose, and that undeniable spark in his eyes, he captured a mirror selfie, that kind of selfie which said, "Yeah, I know I look good."

Rishwik: 'Kuch bhi bolo yaar, ghar me sabse zyada handsome toh main hi hu. Kitne lucky hai mere ghar wale unke ghar heera paida hua hai, heeheee.... Chalo ab heere ki attention lene ki baari aayi."
(Say what you will, but I'm definitely the most handsome one in this house. My family is so lucky to have a gem like me born into it, hehe... Alright, time for the gem to grab some attention!)

He dashed out of the closet, grabbed his phone from the bed in one swift motion, and bolted out of the room with the energy of someone who had just won a race. His heart was thudding in his chest, but his face? Oh, it told a whole different story.