Broken Without You

6. Shock (Paris Day 1-part 2)

Chapter 6
Shock (Paris Day 1-part 2)

I didn't answer Armaan bhaiya's call. I never ignore his call honestly but I wasn't in the right state of mind at that point of time.

I was still in shock, believe me. The fact that the person I had been dreaming about since last so many months is actually a living being sent chills down my spine.

How can a fucking dream become  reality?

Like legit how?

That's when my mother's super crazy behavior caught my attention. It was just three days ago when she picked up my sketchbook and was going through it. I had compiled all of my dream sketches and paintings in this book. I was now making his full painting in colour.

I won't lie, I was captivated by his charm. Just seeing him in my dreams got me. Really.

3 days ago...

"What the hell is this Aisha?" My mother had her mouth covered with both her hands and her eyes clearly displayed utter shock and horror. She almost yelled at me with this sentence.

"A painting?" I was sort of confused. It was just another painting made by me. Why was she reacting like this.

"Whose painting is this?" She asked, now turning to look at me with an authoritative questioning look in her eyes.

"I don't know," I replied to which she narrowed her eyes at me with suspicion.

"I don't recognise this person. I just...I just dreamt about him," I truthfully replied.

She turned red in anger and lifted the huge sketchbook with both her hands. She observed it for a while and then turned to look at me.

"This painting cannot stay in my house," she angrily declared and with the sketchbook still in her hold, she bolted out of my room.

The fuck?

"Mumma, what are you doing," I sprinted behind her as I tried to stop her from taking the painting away.

She hurried through the corridor and went into the kitchen.
I couldn't match her pace, she was that swift.

When I reached the kitchen, she had already held the sketchbook against the burning flames of the stove. Half of the sketchbook was already engulfed in fire.

My eyes widened in shock with this absurd reaction of my mother on a painting that apparently meant nothing to nobody.

"What is wrong with you?" I shouted as I snatched the burning sketchbook from her hands and threw it on the floor trying to extinguish the flames with the help of water.

"It was nothing but a painting of a man I had dreamt of!" I stated angrily. I couldn't digest this behaviour.

She tried to say a thing or two but just couldn't find the words, maybe. She opened and shut her mouth after fumbling for a while.

"You will never understand...," she left me in utter confusion and mess.

What could I not understand?
Why did she react like this?
I had no idea.

Present

Shit!
I'm so damn confused.

Aryan, Ishika, that strange woman, dream and the painting - all of them cannot be just a mere coincidence.