My Life is a Soap Opera

32. Enough is enough.

"Maa, this for you." He handed her the second packet.

I am pretty sure she was already on the verge of crying when he touched her feet for a second time as well.

What in the Sharma ji ka beta is this shit?

My mother's gift shocked me too. Unlike my mother, I wasn't a very big fan of luxurious clothing. But I recognised that piece. I was there in the room when the design was bein-

"Dhakai jamdani." My mother breathed as she gently touched the fabric. Her eyes widened as she felt the material. She knew. My aunt touched it as well but her eyes were the exact opposite of her soft gentle touch, cold and hard.

"Maaer aashirbad." Ritwik smiled brightly.

My mother's eyes widened even more.

How the fuck are her eyes not watering from all that widening?

"Baba- What was the need of this! Just keep my daughter happy that's all we want." My mother sobbed.

Obviously she sobbed. She was holding a limited edition Sinha exclusive Dhakai jamdani saree worth around four crore rupees. The Maaer aashirbad series consisted of exactly 13 pieces of unique and exclusive designs whose patents were owned by The Sinha group and those designs couldn't be used by even the Sinhas for the next 25 years. No body was allowed to even make a dupe that resembled it a little too closely. Best part was that it was in red and white, a certified Bengali mother approved combination of colours.

I never understood the hype of those ridiculously high-priced clothes but my mother loved high end clothes and usually wore things that people of our budget couldn't afford. She got those for my dad and I as well but we preferred practical over pricy. I wouldn't even have understood why she looked like she received a piece of the moon had I not been in the room where the designs were being first shown to Ritwik. In the last nine months or so, I have learnt a lot about different luxury items and their prices.

"You are my mother too. Maaer jonne chele eituku korte pare na?"

Ew. Ewwww. Dafuq? Why is he talking like those over dramatic soap opera guys!

"See, Dyuti, you never gave anything like this to your mother." My aunt pretended to joke subjecting herself to yet another one of Riwtik's glares.

See, now that's the man I know.

To my surprise, Ritwik pulled out another packet and handed to my aunt. She took it and politely thanked him while my mother looked at me like she was the happiest woman alive and I was the source of it. Sure, my love-starved self got a little emotional for a second but then I remembered that the look was probably because of how happy she felt for being able to marry me off to Ritwik. Despite her obvious joy of receiving the luxurious saree, it was the thought that got to her. And also her narcissistic side's joy of being right about marrying me off to my should-have-been-brother-in-law. Not wanting to let her see me cry, I focused on my aunt.

My aunt received an orange and white saree. It was a Dhakai jamdani too, but it probably costed around 10 thousand rupees, by no means cheap but definitely no Maaer aashirbad. Without a word, my aunt walked into my parents' room. Despite her lack of words, her irritation was clear on her face. And my mother being the overdramatic dumbfuck she was, went after her.

Yeah, I know I shouldn't be cursing at my own mother but whatever.

My dad had already roped Sayan into another one-sided conversation, giving Ritwik and I a bit of privacy. But I still didn't want to risk it, so I texted him.