25-06-2025, 01:09 AM
Wednesday Evening – Unspoken Distance
The sky outside had turned a soft bronze, clouded over with the remains of the afternoon heat.
A hush had settled in the apartment—not the peaceful kind, but the kind that came with weight.
With words held back.
Meghana stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of chilled nimbu paani,
the condensation trailing slowly down her fingers.
She walked toward the living room and paused when she saw Varnika.
Her sister sat curled on the far corner of the couch, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them.
She wore a loose navy t-shirt and pale cotton shorts, and her hair—usually tied up or clipped carelessly—was now left open,
cascading around her shoulders like a curtain.
She wasn't on her phone.
She wasn't reading.
She was just... there.
Staring at the muted television screen,
which played something cheerful that neither of them were really watching.
Meghana placed the glass on the center table. “Lemonade,” she said gently. “Made the way you like it. With a little kala namak.”
-
The sky outside had turned a soft bronze, clouded over with the remains of the afternoon heat.
A hush had settled in the apartment—not the peaceful kind, but the kind that came with weight.
With words held back.
Meghana stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of chilled nimbu paani,
the condensation trailing slowly down her fingers.
She walked toward the living room and paused when she saw Varnika.
Her sister sat curled on the far corner of the couch, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them.
She wore a loose navy t-shirt and pale cotton shorts, and her hair—usually tied up or clipped carelessly—was now left open,
cascading around her shoulders like a curtain.
She wasn't on her phone.
She wasn't reading.
She was just... there.
Staring at the muted television screen,
which played something cheerful that neither of them were really watching.
Meghana placed the glass on the center table. “Lemonade,” she said gently. “Made the way you like it. With a little kala namak.”
-