Sidharth stormed out of the college, anger seething within him. He needed space—needed to breathe, to calm the fire raging inside. But the moment he reached home, peace was the last thing he found.

Before he could even take a step inside, Natasha came running toward him, almost pouncing in excitement.

He let out a sharp groan as pain shot through his injured leg. “Ahh… Natasha!” he hissed, steadying himself against the wall.

Realizing the pain in his voice, she stepped back. Sidharth gently pushed her aside and walked in with a limp, his face tightened in discomfort.

From the kitchen, Rita Maa noticed the strain in his movements and hurried to him.

“Kya hua bacha? Pair mein koi takleef hai kya?” she asked with concern.

Sidharth forced a faint smile. “Ji, Mom… bas mamuli si chot hai. Main dekh lunga.”

Then, with a deep sigh, he added, “Tab tak aap please mujhe ek cup chai bana dijiye. Aur Mom… please make sure no one disturbs me.”

His eyes shifted pointedly toward Natasha before he turned away, limping toward his room.

Sidharth entered his room, his jaw still clenched from the day’s chaos. He quickly changed into a loose T-shirt and shorts, hoping to relax a bit. But the moment his eyes fell on his leg, his breath caught.

His knee was swollen, an ugly shade of blue and purple spreading across the skin.

He frowned, muttering under his breath, “Great… just what I needed.”

Pushing himself up, he looked around to find the first aid box. That’s when Rita Maa walked in, holding a steaming cup of tea.

“Yeh lo bacha, thoda aaram—” she stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on his injured knee. Her eyes widened in panic.

“Bacha! Yeh kaise hua? Aur tu ise zara si chot bol raha tha?” she scolded softly, already rushing toward the drawers. “Baith, main ointment laati hoon.”

Before he could protest, she had the first-aid box open. She took out the ointment, sat down on her knees before him while he lowered himself onto the chair.

Gently, she began applying the ointment on the swollen skin, her touch light but full of concern. As she rubbed it softly, Sidharth hissed in pain, gripping the sides of the chair.

“Bas Maa… dheere,” he whispered.

Rita Maa looked up, her eyes filled with both worry and affection. “Tu bhi na Sidharth… apna khayal kab rakhega?”

Rita Maa, still gently rubbing the ointment on his knee, looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ab bata, kaise lagi ye chot?” she asked, her tone firm yet filled with concern.

Sidharth sighed, already knowing what was coming. “Maa, aap bina jaane reh nahi sakti na?” he said with a faint smirk.

“Nahi,” she replied instantly, raising an eyebrow. “Ab jaldi bata, warna chittar khayega.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile escaping despite the pain. “Table se takra gaya tha,” he muttered casually.

Rita Maa gasped dramatically. “Table ne tera raasta kaata tha kya? Ya tu aankhein band karke chal raha tha?”

He tried to hide his smile, but she wasn’t done. “Dhyaan kahan rehta hai tera, Sidharth? Ankhein khol kar chala kar! Dekh, kitni soojan ho gayi hai aur neela bhi pad gaya.”

Then her tone softened as she stood up, brushing her hands on her saree. “Ab aisa kar, ek do din college mat ja. Aaram kar le thoda.”

Sidharth looked up at her, guilt and warmth flickering together in his eyes. “Ji Maa…” he said quietly, the fight in him slowly melting away.

Sidharth leaned back in his chair, staring at the floor for a long moment. A faint, bitter smile played on his lips as he murmured under his breath, almost too softly for anyone to hear,

“Soch to main bhi yahi raha hoon… dekhu to kisi ko mere hone ya na hone se farq padta hai ya nahi.”

The words escaped like a sigh — heavy, weary, and laced with quiet pain.

Rita Maa, who was fixing the ointment box back in its place, caught only the tone, not the words. “Achi soch hai teri,” she said with mock sternness, trying to lighten the mood. “Chal ab sharafat se let ja, main khana garam karti hoon.”

Sidharth just nodded faintly.

“Okay?” she added, her voice softening as she headed toward the door.

“Ji, Maa…” he whispered.

With that, Rita Maa left the room, and silence filled the space — broken only by the faint clink of the teacup and the distant hum of the evening outside.

     _______________________________

Naaz reached home and rushed straight to her room. Her heart was heavy, her mind tangled in emotions she couldn’t name. As soon as she entered, she slammed the door shut behind her and collapsed onto her bed.

Clutching her pillow tightly, she buried her face in it and cried silently, the muffled sobs echoing through the quiet room. After a while, between shaky breaths, she whispered to herself,

“Kyu mujhe itna bura lag raha hai… kyu mere liye itna mushkil ho raha hai unhe ignore karna? Kyu mujhe achha nahi lag raha tha jab wo kisi aur ko hug kar rahe the, aur hans hans kar baat kar rahe the?”

She wiped her tears roughly, scolding herself in a trembling voice,

“Ye sab bahut galat hai, Shehnaaz! Tujhe bura nahi lagna chahiye. Tu galat kar rahi hai… wo tere teacher hain yaar. Unki bhi apni life hai, apne log hain. Tu unse jitni door rahegi, utna hi acha hoga.”

Her voice broke, but she continued, determined to convince her own heart.

“Waise bhi, subah maine khud decide kiya tha unse door rehne ka. Main meri wajah se unhe mushkil mein nahi daal sakti. Main bas unki ek mamuli si student hoon… that’s it.”

She took a deep breath, tears still glistening in her eyes. “Tu jitni door rahegi unse, teeno ke liye acha h.”

Saying this, she wiped the last of her tears, forcing herself to sit up.

But just then, the door creaked open, and someone quietly stepped inside her room.

          __________________________

At the dinner table, everyone was chatting and eating together — Rita Maa, Sidharth, and the rest of the family. The clinking of plates and soft laughter filled the room, but Sidharth sat silently, lost in his own thoughts.

His food lay untouched as he absently played with the spoon, his mind drifting far away — to a pair of eyes that had refused to meet his all day.

> “What’s wrong with her?” he wondered. “Kal tak to bilkul sahi thi… ache se baat kar rahi thi. Kahin kal hi to kuch aisa nahi hua jiski wajah se wo mujhe ignore kar rahi ho?”

He frowned, trying to recall every moment from the previous day.

> “Ya kal mera koi action use bura laga ho?” he thought, his brows knitting together. Then, after a pause, he shook his head slightly. “Nahi… aisa to kuch nahi hua tha. Jaate jaate bhi bilkul theek thi… to phir suddenly hua kya ise?”

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice Rita Maa watching him.

“Sidharth!” her voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

He blinked, startled, realizing everyone was looking at him.

Rita Maa looked at him with concern, noticing how his plate was still full.

“Kya hua, bache? Kahan khoya hua hai tu?” she asked softly. “Teri tabiyat to theek hai na? Tune kuch khaya bhi nahi.”

Sidharth blinked, trying to mask his unease with a faint smile.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine. Aap log khao, mujhe abhi bhook nahi hai.”

But Rita Maa wasn’t convinced. Her motherly tone grew firmer.

“Sidharth, tune din mein bhi kuch nahi khaya tha, bache. Is time to kha le. Agar ye sab nahi achha lag raha to main kuch aur bana deti hoon, theek hai?”

Before Sidharth could reply, Natasha jumped up from her chair, excitement lighting up her face.

“Haan haan, Sidharth! Batao kya khana hai, main bana deti hoon!”

Sidharth turned his gaze toward her, one eyebrow arching in disbelief.

“Tumhe khana banana aata hai?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, half-skeptical.

The table went silent for a second — everyone watching as Natasha’s proud smile froze mid-air.

Aparna chuckled proudly, resting a hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Arey, meri Nats ko to bahut achha khana banana aata hai!” she said with a wide smile. “Just try once, Sidharth — I’m sure you’ll end up eating your fingers along with the food!”

Sidharth leaned back in his chair, a teasing glint flashing in his eyes.

“Yeah, right… right,” he said, nodding dramatically. Then with a perfectly straight face, he added,

“Nats, aisa karo — mere liye fried lentil balls in a yogurt sauce, avalakki, aur… huevos rancheros bana do, please.”

The table went silent for a beat. Natasha blinked, her smile fading into pure confusion.

“Huh… kya?” she muttered under her breath, her mind trying to process the exotic list.

Sidharth smirked, clearly enjoying her baffled expression. Without another word, he stood up, pushed his chair back, and walked toward his room — the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

Rita Maa shook her head, half amused, half exasperated, watching her son’s retreating figure.

Turning to Natasha, she said gently, “Bacha, koi baat nahi. Tu baith ja. Abhi jab usse bhook lagegi na, to wahi kha lega.”

Then she smiled at the others. “Tum log continue karo… mera ho gaya.”

And with that, the dinner table returned to its usual chatter — except for Natasha, who still sat there, utterly confused, replaying those strange dish names in her head.

Rita maa stood up and went toward kitchen, She carefully filled a plate for Sidharth, arranging everything neatly — rice, curry, and a small bowl of salad — before walking toward his room.

Standing at his door, she knocked softly.

Knock… knock…

No reply.

She frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time.

Inside, Sidharth heard the knock and rolled his eyes. Natasha, he thought, deliberately ignoring it. He leaned back, taking a quiet drag of his cigarette, lost in thoughts he didn’t want to share.

After a few minutes, another knock came — this time gentler, but familiar.

“Sidharth… beta?” came Rita Maa’s voice, soft yet filled with authority.

His eyes widened instantly. Guilt flashed across his face. In a hurry, he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, fanning the air to hide the smell. He quickly opened the door.

“Mom…” he said, trying to sound casual.

Rita Maa stepped in, holding the dinner plate. Without saying much, she placed it neatly on the table, then turned toward the sofa and sat down calmly — too calmly.

After a brief silence, she looked straight at him and said, in that tone only mothers have,

“Tujhe kya lagta hai, mujhe pata nahi tu kya kar raha tha?”

Sidharth froze for a second, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, caught between guilt and amusement.

Sidharth blinked innocently, trying his best to sound casual.

“Main kya kar raha tha, Maa? Main to bas aaraam kar raha tha,” he said, forcing a smile.

Rita Maa folded her arms, giving him a look that could see through every lie.

“Haan, pata hai mujhe kitna ‘aaraam’ kar raha tha tu,” she said dryly. Then she patted the empty space beside her on the sofa. “Chal, aa idhar baith.”

He sighed, defeated, and quietly sat down next to her. Without a word, Rita Maa picked up the plate, made a small morsel, and shoved it gently into his mouth.

“Kha le. Zyada smart mat ban,” she murmured with a faint smile.

Sidharth chewed obediently, a small smile tugging at his lips as she kept feeding him like a child. When he finally finished, Rita Maa set the plate aside and turned to him with concern softening her eyes.

“Kya hua, bacha? Koi problem hai kya?” she asked, her voice low and comforting.

Then, gently brushing his hair back, she added,

“Dekh, tujhe pata hai na, koi bhi problem ho, tu mujhse share kar sakta hai? Agar koi baat tujhe bother kar rahi ho na, toh bina jhijhak bata dena. Mujhe pata hai tu kisi aur se to kahega nahi — bas soch soch kar apna dimaag sadata rahega.”

She gave his head a light smack, half playfully, half affectionately.

Sidharth smiled faintly, then slowly rested his head on her lap, staring at the ceiling.

“Mom, aisa kuch nahi hai…” he murmured softly. Then after a pause, he added,

“Acha ek baat batao… agar maan lo aapka koi friend ho ya koi relative, jo kal tak aapse ache se baat kar raha tha, time spend kar raha tha, aur aaj achanak se aapko avoid karne lage — aise jaise aap exist hi nahi karte — toh aapko kaisa lagega?”

His voice was calm, but beneath it lay a quiet confusion… and a hint of pain he couldn’t quite hide.

Rita Maa stroked his hair gently, her eyes soft but wise.

“Acha… toh bilkul bhi nahi lagega. Lekin ho sakta hai uska koi reason ho,” she said thoughtfully.

Sidharth looked up at her, a hint of doubt in his eyes.

“Toh aap aise mein kya karogi, Maa? Usse reason poochogi ya aap bhi use ignore karogi?”

Rita Maa shook her head firmly.

“Ignore karne se baat aur bigad sakti hai. Ho sakta hai uske paas koi reason ho tujhe ignore karne ka. Toh directly jaake usse baat kar… reason pooch ki kya hua.”

Sidharth just hummed softly, lost in thought, his head still resting on her lap.

She smiled faintly, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Acha… ab bata, kaun hai wo jo mere bete ko ignore kar rahi hai?”

Her slight smile made him shift uncomfortably, a small blush creeping up his cheeks.

Sidharth sprang up immediately and walked toward his bed, trying to hide the sudden flutter in his chest. Without another word, he collapsed onto the mattress and pulled the quilt over himself.

“Aisa kuch nahi hai, Maa… ab aap jao. Mujhe neend aa rahi hai. Good night,” he mumbled, his face partially hidden under the blanket.

Rita Maa let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at his antics.

“Good night, bacha,” she said warmly, turning to leave the room.

The door clicked softly behind her, leaving Sidharth alone — the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he buried himself deeper under the quilt.

         _______________________

Hey everyone, first of all thankyou all of you for your support and sorry also If I am not able to convey or potray character's feelings nicely and thoroughly. Beleive me I am trying my best but This is my first story so please bear with it, I will try to improve.

THANKYOU💖