Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
In the other room, Neetu sat in front of her laptop, pretending to work.
 
The screen had been open for nearly an hour.
 
The same page.
 
The same unfinished paragraph.
 
She had no idea what they were talking about outside.
 
But she knew something had changed.
 
She had sensed it for weeks.
 
The way her mother smiled after Rohan left.
 
The way Rohan's voice softened whenever he spoke about Mamta.
 
The way both of them tried to pretend that their conversations were ordinary.
 
They weren't.
 
And the worst part was...
 
Neetu understood why.
 
She knew her mother.
 
She knew how much of herself Mamta had given away over the years.
 
She knew how rarely someone looked at her mother and saw the woman behind the responsibilities.
 
And she knew Rohan.
 
She knew his kindness.
 
His charm.
 
The way he made people feel special.
 
That was what made it hurt.
 
If he had been careless, if he had been selfish, if he had treated her mother like a game, Neetu could have hated him.
 
But he wasn't.
 
And she couldn't hate someone she loved.
 
She closed her eyes.
 
The thought felt like a betrayal.
 
Rohan was the person who made her laugh.
 
The person she trusted.
 
The person she had helped without realizing how far things might go.
 
And now...
 
Now he was sitting outside with her mother.
 
The two people she cared about most.
 
A strange ache settled in her chest.
 
She wanted to open the door.
 
She wanted to stop whatever was happening.
 
She wanted to protect her mother.
 
She wanted to protect herself.
 
But she stayed still.
 
Because another part of her, the part that loved them both, understood something painful.
 
Her mother was not unhappy.
 
Not in the way people usually meant.
 
But she had been lonely.
 
And Rohan had noticed.
 
That was the part Neetu couldn't ignore.
 
A tear formed in her eyes, and she quickly wiped it away.
 
She hated that she understood.
 
She hated that she couldn't simply be angry.
 
The sound of movement outside made her sit up.
 
They were leaving the room.
 
Her heart tightened.
 
She looked at the closed door.
 
For the first time, she wondered if helping them had been the biggest mistake of her life.
 
Not because she didn't want her mother to be happy.
 
But because she was afraid of what happiness might cost.
 
And somewhere between love and guilt, Neetu realized something painful:
 
Sometimes the hardest thing is not losing someone.
 
Sometimes hardest thing is watching two people you love move closer to each other...
 
when you are standing quietly on the other side of the door.