18-09-2025, 11:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 23-09-2025, 12:00 PM by Steel. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
The Sunday morning sun spilled into the living room. Abhi sat on the couch, knees pulled up, picking at a loose thread on his shorts as Madhuri vacuumed nearby in a simple kurta and comfortable palazzo pants.
![[Image: 020.png]](https://i.ibb.co/TMwTP1Kt/020.png)
![[Image: 021.png]](https://i.ibb.co/k28QVddj/021.png)
Her hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders.
![[Image: 020.png]](https://i.ibb.co/TMwTP1Kt/020.png)
To Abhi, though, she glowed, her movements graceful even in the mundane. He hated how he noticed, hated how Ishaan's voice made him see it.
His phone buzzed against his thigh, Ishaan's latest: "Ask about the rose. She's hiding something, and you're gonna find it."
Abhi's stomach twisted, a sick knot of dread and defiance.
He didn't want to ask. But the photo he'd sent, the note he'd read, are chains now, binding him to Ishaan's game. He glanced at her, her humming barely audible over the vacuum, and swallowed hard.
"M-Mom," he started, voice cracking. She didn't hear, too focused on a stubborn spot under the coffee table.
He tried again, louder. "Mom!" She switched off the vacuum, turning to him with a raised brow.
"What is it, Abhi? You look like you've seen a ghost." Abhi faltered, the question sticking in his throat.
"Uh... that rose," he blurted, cheeks flaming. "The one from the other day. Was it... really from work?" Madhuri froze, just for a second, her hand tightening on the vacuum handle.
Then she laughed, "Oh, that? I told you, wrong delivery. Why're you asking now?" She turned back to the vacuum, switching it on again, but Abhi saw the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her fingers fumbled with the cord.
He didn't push. Couldn't. Her lie hung between them, fragile but firm, and he let it stand, slumping deeper into the couch.
Madhuri finished vacuuming, brushing her hair back with a sigh. "Do you want to have some tea?" she asked, her voice softer now, like she sensed his unease.
Abhi shook his head, mumbling, "N-No, maa. I'm fine.."
She nodded, heading to the kitchen, but paused at the doorway, glancing back. "You're too quiet lately, sweetie. Tell me if something's wrong, okay?" Her smile was tender, and it cut him deeper than any of Ishaan's taunts.
He nodded, mute, and watched her go. The rose lingered in his mind, a red stain on her perfection, a question he hadn't dared to fully ask.
He texted with hands shaking: "I couldn't push her man. Sorry"
Ishaan's reply was a dagger: "I've seen stray dogs with more swagger than you dude, sorry's for losers. She is playing you. Get me something real tonight. No excuses." Abhi tossed the phone aside, curling into the couch.
Down the hall, Madhuri leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the drawer key on her wrist. Abhi's question had rattled her, too close, too sudden.
"Did he read the note? No, he wouldn't. He's my sweet boy, not some detective," she thought. But the rose burned in her thoughts. She gripped the counter, steadying herself, refusing to let it unravel her. Not yet.
Abhi sat at his desk, staring at the textbook he hadn't opened. Ishaan's words clawed at him, "She's playing you", and he hated how they made sense.
![[Image: 021.png]](https://i.ibb.co/k28QVddj/021.png)
His mom had dodged his question too fast, her laugh felt too forced.
He crept to the stairs, peering down. Madhuri was in the kitchen, stirring dal, her kurta loose but still hinting at her figure.
She looked tired, her movements slower than usual, and Abhi's chest tightened.
He wanted to hug her, tell her he was sorry, for what, he wasn't sure, but Ishaan's command loomed larger. "Get me something real."
"What did that even mean? Another photo?" His hands itched, torn between running to her and running from her.
The doorbell rang, snapping him out of it. Madhuri wiped her hands, opening the door.
Mrs. Sharma, a nosy neighbour entered with a loud laugh.