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105 text messages.
They sent each other 105 text messages, in one day. They talked about the most random things on the face of Earth. And they loved every second if it. Mithila loved how candid she could be with Amyra, who was merely a stranger three days ago. She was amazed at how fond she had grown of the female, and how emotionally attached she had become.
Mithila liked Amyra.
The fact that her mother didn't know the least bit about her daughter's sexuality hadn't bothered her this much before, but now that she actually had feelings for another female, the thought of coming out to her possibly homophobic mother seemed pester her every second of the day.
The soft sound of classical music played in the background accompanied by the soft laughter and chatter of her family who were drinking some sort expensive liquor and talking about what Mithila configured to be politics and intellectual jokes that she could never decipher the meaning of. Mithila was connected to her phone, talking to Amyra, her surroundings slowly fading out and all she could concentrate on as the conversation; that is, until her mother reached out from under the table and pinched her upper thigh, making her drop her phone with a loud with a loud clatter and a string of loud clatter and a string of profanities and expletives leave her mouth.
Silence.
Everyone stopped their actions, and glances at Mithila with a gaze full of of disgust and disinterest, one that made her skin crawl. She mumbled a quick apology and picked up her phone, before she quickly exited the dining room, after sending one final look to her mother, and slammer the door shut, locking it with a swift movement of her wrist.
She plugged in her headphones and shuffled her playlist, her fingers subconsciously moving over the now weirdly cracked screen of her phone, hissing lowly as a small shard stung her finger.
She wiped off the scarlet liquid on the rough fabric of her jeans, before her phone vibrated and she quickly picked it up, ignoring the throb in her finger as she did so. Her eyes scanned over the text on the screen, and her fingers swiped across the screen quickly typing out a response and shut off her phone, the soft voice of Sam Smith making her eyes droop. She was almost asleep when someone frantically knocked at her door, making her snap her eyes open and fall off her bed. She twisted the lock and pulled the door open, meeting the same annoyed expression her mother always wore. "Perhaps, if you aren't too busy for your own family, you'd like to join us all downstairs for dinner?"
Dramatic. Nice, mom. Really nice.
She nodded once before she closed the door and changed into one of her hoodies and drew the sleeves over her hands, pulling the hood over her head and stuffing her hands inside the pocket. She walked out behind her mom and shut the door behind it. Everyone's eyes were fixated on Mithila and her mom, who's eyes drifted to the table noticing a new person sitting in her seat; her dad. Her eyes widened a fraction and her mouth hung open, as she looked at her mom who was staring back at Mithila with a knowing expression on her face.
Her dad was back.
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