Too old.
Too tall.
Too rich.
Too out of my league.
That's Aryan Arora, the billionaire CEO for me. But apparently, he is the perfect marriage material guy according to the world's pushiest parents of mine.
Getting married was neve...
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"Vivi was three here," Ma said, showing me an ancient photograph of my brother in the album.
Sitting on the couch, I tucked my legs under me and sipped on my morning tea. Nobody could beat the taste of the Chai made by my mom.
I had stayed the night with my family. I missed Aryan last night but I missed spending time with my family more.
Smiling, I shifted to sit a little closer to her to have a look at the photo.
"And this one is from the annual function day of your school. You remember when you punched that boy in your class who was calling Vivaan names and then the principal suspended you?"
Yup. Remembered it quite vividly. There was a big bully guy from my class who had made it his life's mission to bully my brother who was in the primary class, junior to us. There was a lot of bloodshed involved too in the fight. Not mine though.
I was in middle school at that time.
"You were such a protective big sister," She reminisced and then added, sighing, "Even though I would have preferred that you had talked to us about it and let us handle it."
Nope. Not happening. If someone was calling my baby brother a tubelight, and then shoving and pushing him to fall, that guy was definitely asking for a fight. So a violent fight was what I gave him, all while I was dressed in the costume of Goddess Sita for the annual day play. The consequences be damned.
The bully changed schools and nobody dared to mess with Vivaan after that.
She then pointed at the picture from our first Manali trip when I was five. Newly-born Vivaan was sleeping in her lap. Papa was standing beside her, carrying the little-me in his arms, looking at all of us with adoration shining in his eyes.
Ma smiled ear-to-ear, caressing the glazed picture gently with her thumb, as if remembering the long-lost precious memories.
"Ma..." I trailed, contemplating whether or not I should share what had been on my mind for the past few days.
Her gaze darted towards me, and she said, "Haan?"
(Yes?)
"Can I ask you something personal?"
Her brows furrowed in tension, as she asked, "Kya ho gya?"
(What happened?)
I breathed out, reaching out to place my hand on top of hers. "Do you ever regret marrying Papa?"
She made a sound of denial from the back of her throat. "Never."
"Didn't you ever feel like by marrying and loving him you have sacrificed your own worth as an individual?"
She stared at me for a few moments in shock and then sniffled, glancing away and blinking away the visible tears that had blurred her eyes. "Did something happen with Aryan? Is he not treating you well?"
