22. Fear

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                        Sayi's pov

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                        Sayi's pov

" जो दिल से लगे
उसे कह दो hi, hi, hi, hi
जो दिल ना लगे
उसे कह दो bye, bye, bye, bye

आने दो, आने दो
दिल में आ जाने दो
कह दो मुस्कराहट को
Hi, hi, hi, hi

जाने दो जाने दो
दिल से चले जाने दो
कह दो घबराहट को
Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye"

As I entered the house, singing along to the catchy tune, Meera's voice cut through the melody, filled with frustration.

"Mummmmmmyyyyy, isne meri dress pehna hai, itne kapde hai iske pass phir bhi mere he kapdon par nazar hain iski!" she exclaimed.

(Mummmmmmyyyyy she wore my dress she had so many yet she wore my clothes)

I wasn't surprised by her outburst. I had been searching for my dress but couldn't find one I liked, so I rummaged through her wardrobe and found the most comfortable one. No matter how many clothes I owned, there was something about her collection that always caught my eye.

This scenario played out almost every day in our house. Meera would shout, our mother would listen, and I would simply enjoy the comfort of her clothes. It was one of those little fights that brought us happiness.

Ignoring her, I made my way to my room, freshened up, and flopped onto the sofa. "Mathashree, mere liya chai laana," I called out, seeking comfort.

"Sayiii, Bhagwan ne do haath aur do pair diye hain, use them!"she yelled.

"Mumma, she can't do anything, lazy panda," Meera said, coming to my defense in her own unique way.

I rolled my eyes at her remark. "Sayiii, tell me why did you steal my outfit from the wardrobe," Meera persisted, starting her usual drama.

"Offo Meera, chill. Sharing is caring," I said, searching for the TV remote.

"No, it's not! It's the new outfit. You do this every time. Whenever I get myself new clothes, you wear them first and post pictures," she complained, glaring at me.

I shrugged. "So?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

"What do you mean 'so'? Everyone will think I'm wearing your clothes, you idiot!" Meera retorted, throwing a cushion at me.

"Ouch! Stop it, Meera," I protested, rubbing the spot where the cushion had hit me.

"TV Remote kaha hai?" I muttered, still searching for it.

"Mathashree, TV Remote kaha hai?" I yelled, growing increasingly frustrated.

"Ek kaam bhi nai hoga tumse, mei kya karu tumhara," she said, stomping off to the kitchen.

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