"What the hell?" Zara stretched her arms, as she looked at the clock. It was 1 in the morning, when she woke up sleeping for the whole day....

She slowly stepped out of her room, when she saw Sid's room light on.
"Kya kar raha hai itni raat ko, chotu?" She teased him, opening his door.

(What're you doing in the middle of night?)

She asked, when she looked that he'd his earphones on, he was sitting on his bed and was solving some physics numerical.

"Sid" Zara went near her brother taking off one of his earphone, when he flinched almost in shock.

"What the.... Zara! Kya chahiye abb tereko? Irritate krne aa jati hai, aur tu ab uth rahi hai? Ek baje?" He asked, as he looked at the watch, his eyes widening when Zara stretched her arms.

"Abhi jaake dubara so jaungi" she said, stretching her arms when Siddharth looked at her with concern.

"Zara, are you okay? What's so wrong with you?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Haan, I'm going upstairs right now, will you please cover it for me?" Zara asked, when Sid looked at the watch.

"I'll be waking till 2.30" he said, when Zara shuts his door, and slowly opens the door of their 3BHK flat. She kept two pillows on the place on her bed, as she checked the room of her parents, confirming all the lights are off.

*

"Bhaiya, it's me" Agastya said, as he sneakily waved his hand to the delivery boy who was standing outside the door of the society.

"Pasta, with pizza, that too on discount. I'll just sneak to the terrace" Agastya muttered as he stepped towards the terrace. He well knew how his cousin would eat it all even if she got a hint of it.

Zara adjusted her hoodie, pulling it tight around her face. The wind was warm, sticky almost — Mumbai monsoons were deceptive like that. You'd expect rain. But all you got was humidity and a weird silence that clung to your skin.

She climbed the last few steps to the terrace, her phone still in her hand, brightness dimmed to avoid attention. Her head was foggy — not because of the sleep, but because she hadn't eaten anything proper in nearly two days.

Again.

She walked to the edge of the terrace and sat down, legs folded, eyes on the distant, blurry skyline. From here, the city didn't feel chaotic. Just... far.

Her screen lit up. Reels again. Some girl with the perfect waist doing a transition video.

Zara stared.

Then swiped.
•

Meanwhile, Agastya took the lift to the second floor and avoided the main corridor lights. He tiptoed — yes, literally tiptoed — to the stairs leading to the terrace. The paper bag crinkled in his hand. The smell of oregano and cheese was stupidly comforting.

"Shit, I forgot Coke," he muttered. "Pasta with no Coke is war crime."

As he opened the rusty door to the terrace, he saw a figure already sitting near the edge.

"Zara?"

He paused mid-step.

Zara, who was sitting quietly now turned looking at him. Her furrows raised, as if she saw a real ghost, but yet she didn't flinched- her mind was hazy trying to understand if he's really there, or was just confused....

"Mujhe nahi pata tha tum terrace pe bhoot bhi banti ho, kaafi talents hai tum me, sahiba" Agastya said, as he leaned near him.

(I didn't knew that you turn to a ghost in night, you've many talents Sahiba)

"My name is Zara" she said, looking at him.

"Names are kept by people, like your parents kept you as Zara, but for me, you're the girl who holds power...." Agastya said.

"Are you a poet?" Zara asked, raising her furrows.

"I'm not a poet, but you're the muse... if seen once, a person can't resist to be a writer" Agastya said, with a soft smirk on his lips as he sat down, keeping the food bag.

"I won't eat you, if I sit here" Agastya said, pointing the place next to him.

Zara sat a bit away from him, the awkwardness lingered between them- Zara gave him a side eye when he opened the box of pizza, but before he'd notice to pass a sarcastic reply, she was quick enough to look like a nonchalant who minded nothing but her own business.

Agastya, who noticed her, chuckled slightly as he said, "you know, the ones who shows that they aren't affected are most likely to notice those details which none other does" he continued- opening the sachet of oregano and chilli flakes.

Zara didn't said anything, looking on the sky she hugged her knees to her chest tightly....

"Suits you, Sahiba"
He said, taking a bite of his pizza.

"Agastya, can you stop calling me this?"

"Your voice is to authoritative to call you by your name, so I'll call you this"

She simply nods- when he took a sigh, eating the slice of his pizza. "Thank god, I thought you'll beat me"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you've those stern eyes whose glare is enough to scare another person to death" he said, as he passed a grin. "Can I call you Sahiba?"

He asked, while Zara shrugged her shoulders showing no emotion, while Agastya who was sitting, now stood up with a smile- chuck it, a grin as if he won for life.

"What?" Zara raised her brows when she saw him swinging.

"I mean you let me call you sahiba"

Zara looked back at her phone, she was blankly scrolling through reels when the couple reels appeared on her screen.

She looked on the sky, not realising that he was still there. "Dekho, jaan mujhke karte ho na aap yehhh, apni bhakt ke saath aisa karte hai krishna ji" she said, making a pout when she looked at him.

"What?" Zara looked at him.

"You want a boyfriend?" Agastya asked.

"I'll become meerabai before wanting love-I'd rather be devoted to gods rather than human beings"

"You went to a gurudwara in the afternoon"

"So? God is one, no matter wherever I go- I go to mandir also" Zara said,

"Acha to mujhe bhi days bata diya karo main bhi saath mei chalunga" Agastya said, his smile never leaving his face.

"Good night Agastya" Zara said, as she stood up and waved a bye.

Agastya smiled and waved back at her. "Good night Zara, make a schedule and tell your schedule tomorrow"

As he saw her going down, the smile on his face dimmed- "chalo pizza, aap ho to ho jo bhi ho, ek ladki ke sath rehna chahta hu, vahi aise nakre dikhati hai" he muttered, picking the box of pizza as he looked behind at Zara who walked downstairs. "Par koi na, ab ek hi ladki ke nakhre uthane hai to jitne bhi kare kya dikkat hai?"

****

THE NEXT MORNING

Agastya stretched his arms, as he looked at the clock. "Shittt!" He muttered.

It was already 6.45, he was late for his school.
And the only concern he had was to not be able to sit with Zara.

He buckled up, skipping his breakfast and bath, getting constantly scolded by his grandmother.

"Agastya, look at Aaru, she's ready, and you're..." his grandmother was scolding him, when he wears his bag sitting on the dining table.

"Nani, he wasn't there during midnight" Aaradhya said, taking a bite of her parantha, when Agastya gave a sarcastic smile to her.

"Did someone asked you to open your mouth?" Agastya asked her, as he leaned forward to Aaradhya, only to get a slap on his forehead.

"Agastya, don't you dare to talk in such tone with your sister" his dadi scolded, when he rolled his eyes at her.

"You just love Aaru, no one loves me here" Agastya said, exiting the house-

"Pure din ka yahi hai iss ladke ka, Aaru isko tiffin de diyo nahi to fir se junk khane bhagage ga"

"Ok nani" Aaradhya said, taking the tiffin from her hands, as she left for her school.

Agastya stood in front of the main door extending his hand for the tiffin.

"Thank you for bringing this lunch out"

The door, next to theirs creaked as Sid came at first, while Zara was hitting him by her elbow. Her hairs tied into two braids- perfectly combed and Sid- his shirt was untucked.

"You better stop calling me out for keeping a scarf every time" Zara said, glaring at her twin,

"Yeah, you won't be glow anyways, do whatever you want" Sid said,when Zara glared at him.

"Sid, I'll throw a case on you someday, I swear" Zara said, gritting her teeth.

"I've no doubt you'd do this"

"Good morning" Aaradhya waved her hand, when Zara got quiet.

"Zaraaa, ab bol na" Sid teased her, when she threw a sharp glare at him, while she gave him a glare.

And here we go again!

Sid passed a smile to me, while I threw daggers on him. I walked a few steps more, when Agastya looked at me- still smirking.

"Good morning, sahiba"
He said, tilting his head towards me, a soft grin on his face while I simply nodded back to him.

The nod was polite and reciprocating. We both were quiet, maybe he too was done with me and now we're going to stay like this only.

Yeah, I ignored him yesterday maybe that is why he wasn't speaking to me?

"I won't be able to play basketball today in the evening" Sid told Agastya, slowing near him.

"Hmm, you finally gave up after losing from my brother everyday" Aaradhya said, with a proud smile on her face, her arms crisscrossed to her chest while Sid looked back at her.

"Aapse matlab, laal naak vali emoji" Sid told, mimicking her same demeanour, bending nearby her.

Wait.
What?

So basically Sid plays basketball in the evening?

Aaradhya Sid know each other and on the top of it, Agastya and Sid goes to play basketball together.

And I didn't knew a single thing about this?

I looked at Agastya confused, when he raised his furrows at me.
I guess I don't know about all this because I never wake up at that time?

Yeah, because I'm often scolded early in the morning by my parents for it. Unlike any other day, today my parents scolded me for being that over dramatic child who'd never wake up on time, I can't even tell anyone what's going on in my head.

I wonder if someone would even care if I told them?

We're going to our maternal grandparents home tonight- they lived in Mumbai since 7-8 years and of course this wasn't the first time I came here- I've been to the city many times.

But every time I go, I feel the same:
Like I'm the leftover they didn't ask for.

It's not about gender.
Or marks.
Or behavior.
It's just that...

Sid was in the incubator for 10 days after birth.
And I wasn't.

Maybe since that day, they started loving him more.
Maybe they think I'm the reason he was on the verge of dying.
Maybe they blame me.

And maybe... I've started believing it too.

Like I'm that useless child who didn't even deserve to live. I'm the first one to be blamed for every fucking reason and that's why I started detesting myself.

Anyways, maybe I was the one who wronged everyone. I'm the problem I guess.

"Yeh shemdi kahi ki, kabhi to asal duniya mei rehna sikh le" Sid interrupted in midst of my thoughts when I looked at him, my brows raised.

"Agar asal duniya me tere jaise creature ho toh I am glad ki mai iss duniya me nhi jee rhi" I said,  my eyes narrowed when Agastya hooted for me as if I won a trophy.

"Zaraa, I was thinking if we can go for shopping tomorrow? Uncle told me yesterday that you don't even come out of your room- and he looked concerned" Aaradhya said, as we were a bit away from the boys.

I nodded at her. The only person I always fail to understand is my father, like what does that means? He'll always be asking people around me to involve me in everything I do and on the next very day  he be acting as a patient suffering from memory loss.

Let it be.

I nodded at Aaradhya but for some reason I didn't wanted to cancel the plan.

*

The day got over, real quick.

I was half heartedly getting ready for going to my nani house.

I stood in front of the cupboard like I was auditioning for a role I didn't want.

First came the obvious ones — the hoodie I wear when I want to disappear. Rejected. Because "tu har jagah yehi pehenti hai?" echoes louder than the fan in my room.

Then a dress. Tried. Took off in 0.5 seconds. Too clingy. Too loud. Too not me.
Then I pulled out that one top Vamika di gave me — pastel pink, off shoulder, "cute vibes" — and immediately shoved it back.

"Main toh cute ke opposite direction mein chal rahi hoon."

Next, a shirt I hadn't worn in months — white with tiny floral prints. I stared. Tried it. Hated the collar. Took it off.

A loose tee? Too casual.
Another fitted one? Bro, I'm not trying to suffocate in public.
A kurti? Why do I even own kurtis? Not happening.

And then, after what felt like a full-on Koffee with Karan rapid fire round with my wardrobe, I ended up choosing this old, full-sleeved blue shirt. Collared. With tiny checks. Safe. Covering enough.

I folded the sleeves up to my elbows, because of the heat, I was suffocating in it but the loud bang on the door so was enough to remind me that we're getting late.

Paired it with black jeans. Not those super skinny ones that feel like denim sausage casing, but a loose-fit that still made me conscious about my thighs.

I wore my small hoops, kept pulling the shirt down every five minutes.

Wore a black belt, not for style — just so the jeans didn't betray me mid-step. My hairs were open, I don't know why but for the first time in my life they looked okayish.

Pairing them with white sneakers, I was all ready to go out of my room when I looked Vamika di, wrapped in mumma's embrace.

"I missed you so much, mera bacha" mumma muttered hugging di tightly.

And just like that, it hit me.

The same scene. Again. Like it's been replaying on a loop since forever.

Vamika di walks in. Mumma forgets everything. The anger, the shouting from earlier today, her obsession with punctuality — everything just vanishes like it never existed. Because her bacha is here.

Meanwhile, I stood there at the edge of the room, gripping my phone like it was some sort of anchor.

She didn't even see me.
Scratch that — she saw me. Just didn't look at me.

I could feel my throat tighten like someone had wrapped a shoelace around it. My mind was yelling at me — "Zara, stop thinking so much. It's not a big deal. It's always like this."
But tell that to the part of me that still, idiotically, wanted to be hugged like that too.

"Zara, jaldi aa ja!" Papa called out from the living room.

Not beta, not even Zaru like he used to call me when I was in school. Just my full name — like a class teacher taking attendance.

I blinked twice, turned my back, and walked out before anyone could see how my eyes had started to blur.

"Zaruuu" Vamika di said, as she pulled me a deep embrace.

"I'm seeing Zara woke up at this time after super long" Sid commented, when I rolled my eyes.

"As if she does something productive , she's always sleeping" mumma taunted when I took a long breath. I wish I'd say something, but I just didn't tried.

"Aise to even I come here on every long weekend for no reason, to aap mujhe bhi aise hi taunt maroge kya?" Vamika di said, her voice stoic when mumma threw daggers on her.

"Vamika, why're you talking like that?" Mumma snapped, but not in that angry way — in that defensive, brushing-it-off-but-it-stings kind of way. You know the one. The tone that says 'I won't admit I'm wrong, but I've been hit where it hurts.'

"Mumma is right, I don't do anything.... Anyways" I said, blinking quickly to clear off the blurry tears of my eyes. Gulping down the lump in my throat, the one that always shows up uninvited, especially when I feel like a background prop in my own life.

We walked toward the car. Sid was already munching on a packet of chips, acting like he was going to war and not a casual family visit. Vamika di walked beside me silently, her eyes occasionally flickering in my direction like she was waiting for me to say something. I didn't. I couldn't.

We started moving through the busy Mumbai traffic, the honks and neon boards dancing across the windshield like some chaotic light show. I stared out the window like I was in a music video where the protagonist's life is falling apart in aesthetic slow motion.

Some random song played on the radio — one of those romantic ones that make your chest ache, not because of love, but because of how far away it feels.

Mumma was talking to Papa. Sid was half-asleep. And Vamika di? Still looking at me like she could see right through the smile I was forcing.

I took out my phone and did what I always do when everything feels too much.

Scrolled.

Couples.
Reels.
Glow-ups.
People my age living lives I only write about in fiction.

And then I did what I usually do in stress,

I slid my phone down, tilted slightly away from everyone, and reached into my sling bag which was always near me.

TW: SELF HARM

In the middle of chaos, I always find the same shitty comfort — the old metal keychain I'd sharpened weeks ago. Smooth on one edge, jagged on the other. Nobody even noticed it. Why would they?

I held it against my palm, pressing it harder and harder until I knew it would leave a mark. I didn't go deep — not this time. Just enough to feel the sting, to remind myself I still existed.

The pain came fast, sharp. It calmed the static buzzing in my head. It was enough to make me shout, but I'm too habitual to shout.

I dragged my sleeve down quickly. Full sleeve shirt. Blue, buttoned, folded till my wrists — now, pulled down and fidgeted with like I was suddenly cold in this goddamn humid car.

I leaned to the side, hugging my arm close to my stomach, like a reflex. Like my body was trying to protect something it couldn't name.

"Zara," Vamika di's voice broke through, laced with suspicion, "Why are you sitting like someone stuck an ice cube in your shirt? It's literally thirty degrees."

I blinked, too fast. "Nothing, I feel the chills that's why"

I didn't even realise when I stopped listening to what mumma was saying.

Her voice was there — talking about something, probably food or traffic or nani's latest blood test — but it felt like background noise. Like the kind you hear when you're underwater.

Sid was half-asleep, slumped in the corner like a useless beanbag. Papa was nodding along to whatever mumma said. And Vamika di?

She kept looking at me.

I stared out of the window, tugged my sleeves again. My palms were clammy. My arm stung a little, not enough to cry about. Just enough to remember I was still here.

Some cheesy love song played on the radio. One of those "dil sambhal ja zara" types. Funny how even that felt like it wasn't meant for me.

Maybe, it'd never be.

********

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