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-8-Mother’s food.

“Our inward Conflicts express themselves in our outward disasters. When we want nothing more than to keep them hidden.” [Jacqueline]

“Writer’s pov.”

“Rohan, I am sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have lied to you.” Hearing her pleasant and sweet voice made Rohan’s heart skip a beat. His lips curved into smugness as he raised a question.

“But what is your real name sweet cheeks,? Do your cla**mates know about your hobby of lying to strangers?”

Fear hit Jacqueline like a cold shower. She was sure he would create trouble for her out of nothing.

“I. I believe you can forgive me, Rohan, so tell me what do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?”

Rohan grinned victoriously, his gorgeous, eyes shone with a gleam of mischief,

“Are you suggesting that you will do whatever I want?”

Her grip on her clothes tightened. She didn’t like his words. She was scared. His words felt like they had a different meaning.

Their conversation was cut short by Mrs. Smith’s yelling.

“What are you doing Rohan and Jacqueline. Come on take your seats. You are wasting our time.”

Muttering a small apology she returned to her seat while Rohan followed her.

In the whole period, she could feel Rohan’s stare making her tingle in nervousness. Several times he did try to talk to her but she ignored him making it look like she was immersed in studying. After the cla** came to an end, Mrs. Smith asked her to follow her to the staff room for helping her in the organization of the quiz. And for that she was grateful.

After that, the whole day went like a blur.

[Jacqueline’s Pov:]

it was nearly 3 pm when I arrived home. it made me anxious to think about how mom would be doing. Did they fight again? Would mom be injured? Will she identify me? or would I still need to be a neighbor in front of her?

My papa Joel Wilson is a government servant. A recovery officer. He was even given a few servants to help him in the job. Although I don’t know what made him bitter about mom. but there was something wrong with the way he treated her. or it might be because he was just a violent man. Anyway, in India, many men tended to hit women without a proper reason. He had been violent with her for as long as I could remember. I was one of those kids who at the age of seven wanted to die by seeing their parents fighting with each other almost every day. Yeah. I have been dealing with suicidal thoughts all my life. There were so many moments in my life when I had cried at the staircases of our home without letting anyone find me asking God to kill me. Trust me it’s a horrible feeling. I remember once when papa was running behind a mom with a wooden stick to beat her. At that time when I was six and, was playing a prank with my sister, When she leaped out from the stairs running and shouting with a hoarse voice and behind her, my father in the hallway door, shouting Boom! She screamed, face raked and twisted, then burst into sobs, Clutching her chest as she leaned against the door, gasping. while I stood there, confused, wearing my toy Army helmet tilted on my head. I didn’t know what exactly was happening, but I shut the door, locking it.

Yet I never told her I was scared at the time when my father’s fist collided with the door, or when he was shouting at us to open it. But seeing her as the bright sun etched her black hair. I shielded her face with My arms trying to protect her.

Though I never knew the future revisits the past. But for her, I no longer saw what was ahead of me.

I went back to the tap on our terrace, filling my water bottle for her to drink. I was shaking to my core hearing papa’s angry voice. But I never opened the door. Until he stopped shouting.

.

Subsequently, when we went out it was the second time he had slapped me. The first time he hit me, I must have been four. A hand, a flash, a reckoning. My mouth had felt a blaze of touch. I was hurt.

Shooking my negative thoughts away I entered the home.

There was an eerie silence engulfing the whole house. I shouted

“Nikki.”

“Nikki. where are you?”

“oh, you are here,” Mom responded to me smiling. Her smile dazzled me for a while.

“I. you. Mom.”

“Joel told me you will come.”

“Pa. oh I mean uncle. is he back?”

“Yes, dear he is back. Come here. I made some extra food today after so many days to thank you. I hope you will like it.”

“It wasn’t needed, Aunty.”

“Of course it was dear. you have helped me so much yesterday. so I wanted to do something for you too. Go and wash your hands first.”

Generally, I couldn’t understand her, She didn’t like cooking for as long as I could remember. There were so many incidents of papa and mom fighting just because she didn’t want to cook our food.

“Aunty, Did You made it yourself?”

“Yes, dear. I did. come and have some.”

“Okay.” Smiling I nodded at her and walked out to wash my hands.

When I returned Sunlight dappled the floor beside my mother, shining her pet**e figure as she was busy setting the table smiling and singing a tune I couldn’t recall.

The living room felt like a normal joyous place. Making me feel warm. A scene I wanted to live every day since childhood.

“Ah. Dear, you are here. have it before it gets cold.”

Seeing her smiling automatically made me smile. I guess it happens when you see your mom, smiling after seeing her cry almost every day.

“Come on Have it, Dear.”

“Oh. okay, Ma. I mean Aunty.”

“Great.” Clapping her hands she served me Whatever she had made. it was Chicken Biryani.

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made my eyes lit up. I love Chicken Biryani. It is a Mughlai dish famous in India and particularly all over the world. Biryani

cook it. Though I did try to make it in the same way I have written. But I

to make it on school days since biryani is not something one throws together in 20 minutes after school on a Monday. It’s a

before it. You can also try it. Yet even after many trials,

is perceived to have been made with love taste more delicious. Love makes everything super special. The key behind the mom’s food so the taste is that she makes it with her

in her magical hands. I wonder how every single time she makes all

“How’s it?”

It’s so delicious

“Oh Thank you, dear.”

appreciation. But the next words that she uttered made me almost

I can pack it for your parents too. I

I opened my mouth to answer back but no words came out of my mouth. Trying to keep my emotions in I smiled at her.

Chap-9-Mood Changer Text.

yourself from a different person’s view going deeper and deeper into the scene, away from

throbbed, clenching my fist, I sp***ed some rice-eating it. But now it felt tasteless to me. I think just because I always wanted to have food with her in the same way she had served me was the mere reason which made it tastier than it was. But her words had completely ruined my appet**e.

“Are you okay dear?”

“Yeah.”

you didn’t

aunty, but my parents are not at home. So it’s not

gifted me a necklace today? He said he bought it for my birthday.

much daze that I didn’t even notice the

done if it was a fake and made of cheap gla**. She ran a thumb over its polished surface and smiled at me. almost grinning. I have never seen her smile so genuinely for months. Her black eyes shined in happiness. While her beautiful pink lips curved though the reason for the smile was a necklace. But to me her smile was the most beautiful jewel I’d ever come across and well,

smile

profound than it already was. Her white face

dear for such a compliment. But I don’t

deserve it. You should

so much, Dear. Today you

thank me, Aunty. I was just telling you what’s true.

up and kissed my forehead. instantly making

my dear

throat hearing her words. ‘Did she remember

are just like my daughter I

part of my life where I was disappointed but I couldn’t do anything about it. I coughed a little to stop myself from crying and asked her to have

“30 minutes later.”

in her sleep. it

my phone beeped and I moved to open it Finding his text messages

are my

sit up in my bed realizing how easily he can

…..

[Writer’s POV:]

Jacqueline

Remo Frowned at her answer. What happened to her. She didn’t even call him a jerk. Something

“Nothing.”

He could almost imagine her vibes. “We are friends Jacky, You

She did not want to tell him about her mother. it would do her no good. ‘what if he laughs at her and leave her.’ She never wanted that. Thinking

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about my name. But he turned out to be my cla**mate in half an hour. What should I do? I

felt it couldn’t be the reason for her sadness, he understood even if he forced her, she won’t tell

be scared. It’s not a

was he. Not a big

teacher asked me? I think he will make trouble for me. I

for her name. ‘But what was wrong with that. why are you getting angry at such a small reason?’ he couldn’t find an

is a he! huh! tell me from the start what exactly

“I told you already.”

didn’t even know why he was

it happen? Why did you lie to him in the first

sat down on the one near me. after that he asked for my name. But I neither wanted to tell him my name nor I wanted to create troubles for myself so I

Chap-10-First Song.

You can either learn to ignore comments or become fake like

….

Writer’s POV:

Why was she getting so restless on such a small matter? it didn’t make

don’t think it’s a big deal, Jacky. You are overthinking. he won’t be

He would never have been bullied as to say such things.

Her subconscious voice taunted her

the juice he was having earlier. Disappointed at her behavior

“What’s wrong?”

noticing his answer, she decided it wasn’t the time to tell him about her bullying sad story since she didn’t want his pity and also they just become friends

I think you are

Baby.” While seeing him his friend’s

friends for as long as he could remember. They were even such great friends that he even let him use his

talking

said trying to usher him out of his

is this friend?” he asked again, trying to take

Bro, Not yet. I will show you tomorrow. But For now, Please Go home

not even the

received the next text from her.

puffing in anger Raghav left him and sworn in his heart to discover what Remo

I told you Don’t call me

shook

“Baby.”

“Baby.”