And Then It Rained (Sequel to Rain Again; Stand Alone Book) (Completed)

Chapter Fifteen: Until She Breaks

☁️

"Would you give me your sipstick after this, mamma?" asked a six-year-old girl with a head full of dark hair and beige skin. 

"It's lipstick, my sweet Ria," Methelda took a couple of steps back, seeing through her camera. "I want a bigger smile! Yes, that's it." And she clicked the shutter. 

Both the mother-daughter duo wore white, floral matching kurtis. The color code matched with the people playing, wrestling, and sprinting about them with colors. The atmosphere was vibrant with thousands of waves of laughter. 

The little girl blinked, her smile never faltering, knowing her mother would click many more photos of her, like always. 

"That's what I said—sipstick. The red one? Would you give that to me?" 

"I would, but you're not allowed to put it on all by yourself. Now, look in that direction up there, yes, right."

Ria's round, chubby face lit up hearing that. Now that the sipstick problem was solved, which her mother had tempted her with to have her come to the holi party today, she decided to dive into her other crucial questions. "Why are all these people putting color on each other, mamma?"

Between taking her photos and moving her here and there, Methelda explained, "There's a tremendous Indian mythological story behind this festival, my Ria. But the straightforward, simple explanation is that the reason for playing with all these colors is simply just to have—" and she suddenly put down the camera, to take a fistful of some pink powder color from a tray that a boy was passing by with. Then lunging close, laughing and completing her sentence saying, "Lots of fun," she smeared the color all over her daughter's cheeks.

Ria squealed, trying to push her mother's insistent hands away but giggling endlessly anyway. Then she pounced on her mother, who now shrieked instead. Hugging the most favorite person in the entire world, she rubbed her cheeks against her. 

"Are we actually from Goa, mamma?" Her questions were never-ending.

"Yes, we are," yet her mother never got tired of answering them—not a lot, at least.

"Then why did we come to this country?"

Methelda rubbed the tip of her nose against Ria's. "Because your father's got your business here—"

"Then am I a little evil Portuguese pirate, mamma?" Her smile diminished quickly, and innocent sadness took its place.

"No. Not at all!" Methelda's brows furrowed. "Who told you that?"

She pouted. "Aunt Regina!"

"Well, don't listen to her," sighing, Methelda knelt down on the grassy ground and coaxed Ria close to her. "Besides, being a pirate is not that bad. I wanted to be a pirate when I was your age."

Ria's face lit up. "You did?"

"Well, yes."

"Why?"

"Because then the ocean will become your home," and there was this dreamy look in her mother's eyes.

"Is that why you named your company the Ocean Anegcy—"

Her mother chuckled. "The Ocean Agency."

"Why didn't you become a pirate then?"

"That's because I had to get married and collect little Ria from the hospital."

Ria looked devastated. Collecting her from the hospital was alright, but getting married—that is just evil. "I will never get married, mamma. I will have a camera like yours, go everywhere, and become a pirate."