The beautiful aroma from the kitchen greeted me as I entered my house, making my mouth water. When I peered inside, I saw my father making something. I kept the bag on the counter and sneaked up on him. But he turned around before I could shock him.
"You're back, I have something prepared for you today?" he grinned. I grinned while glancing at the pot. It was the pav bhaji I loved the most. My father loves to make me eat, therefore that is the only reason I don't lose weight.
He grinned and added, "Today is our movie night. Go get clean, and then we're going to watch a crime movie and hog on food."
Even though I was utterly exhausted, I couldn't let him feel bad by saying no. After my mother departed, my father has been less expressive. Riya doesn't care about us, and she continues upsetting papa.
In order to give us the best life possible, my parents made tremendous personal sacrifices. My father has significantly impacted my life. Most people think I'm like my dad in terms of my appearance and mental makeup. We have the same mannerisms, expressions, thought processes, and enormous amounts of energy.
We like to travel, experience new meals, learn new things, spend time with our families, and discover new things. Because I observed my father's behaviors and heard his lectures, I've come to the realization that he has influenced the way I live, the choices I make, and the way I behave.
My father is the loveliest man in the world. He is a short, wheat-colored man. He is trustworthy, cordial, and upbeat, and he never gives up. He enjoys helping others through their struggles because he does not want others to experience what he did when he needed help and no one was around.
I replied, "Okay, papa," and then I walked to my room to get ready. We are watching a movie tonight, so I put on my funniest Pyjama and tied my hair in a bun. I then sat in my favorite chair and gazed out the window at the stunning sunset. This is my favorite room, even if it is smaller than my sister's. I was fine with her wanting a larger room. I enjoy observing nature because it soothes the soul. My gaze settles on the picture frame on my table that has my parents' portrait. I take it and place my hand over my mother's face.
Even though my mother isn't here anymore, I can still sense her guiding me. People find it hard to imagine that my parents were in a love marriage because my mother was breathtakingly beautiful and my father was a short man with average features. My mother's mother used to work in my father's house.
My father was raised in this city by affluent parents. He didn't have any bad or terrible childhood memories. Together, they went to college and eventually started dating. Despite the fact that no one knows how deeply in love they were for all those years, my relatives still believe mom married my father for financial reasons. They eloped before being hitched.
After getting married, they started to run into financial problems, which was a rude revelation for the father and caused the sense of security he had as a child to abruptly disappear. Soon, he was consumed with making ends meet and putting food on the table, but he never lost heart and kept toiling hard for his family.
He made the decision to relocate to a larger location and launch a business when I was born.
We went to another place. We had to adjust to our new lifestyles for a very long period before we finally did. My father eventually found success after working arduously for over six years. My younger sister was born after that, and we were a content family of four.
My favorite memory of my mother is of her beaming face as she embraced me, kissed me, told me I was a good daughter, and fed me with love every day when I arrived home from school.
Regardless of the challenges life brings our way, my father and I are similar in that we never allow anything to get us down. My father's story taught me that there are no justifications for me not to accomplish my goals, and as a result of him, I am an extremely inspired person.
Even if my challenges seem overwhelming at times, I never give up. If I work and fight hard enough, my ambition of becoming a successful, independent woman will become a reality.
My parents gave us the room we required to grow up. They allowed us to explore everything we wanted while abiding by rules, and understand anything while exercising judgment and attention. They provided us with freedom while imposing limitations.
Or, to put it another way, they offer me wings to fly and a mind that has been morally trained to lead me in the correct direction. They did it with a commanding composure and ease!
"Are you coming, Beta?" From the kitchen, I can hear my father shouting. I set the picture aside, wiped away the tears from my eyes, and then left the room. The preferred game of Monopoly had been set up by my father; it was the most enjoyable one we played. For all these years, we played together, but now there is just my dad and me.
For some time, my father and I played Monopoly. I don't recall how many games we played, but I do recall that Father consistently won. I had a blanket wrapped around my body because it was quite chilly outside and Father was seated at the other end as we continued to watch the action-packed movie. The tension in this film never lets up. We watched two more films, and as I drifted off to sleep, I was patted on the head by my father as I rested my head on his lap. I always fell asleep right away when he did that when I was a youngster, and tonight was no different.
I was startled out of sleep when I heard a horn noise outside. I looked outside as I opened my eyes, and it was pitch-black. I was dozing on the front couch, and some of the light from outside had made its way into the living room. I looked around and saw that perhaps Papa had retired to his bedroom.
I stood up and started to shuffle toward the bedroom when I heard a soft knock. I was initially terrified, but I soon realized Riya might have returned. The time on the clock read three in the morning. If Papa knew that, she would most definitely be grounded. I closed the door to Papa's room and stooped into the living room.
I walked through the door and said, "Riya, you're going to be...." as I turned to face the living room. My words halted as I turned around. A tall man was in front of me. He exuded a sense of assurance and charm. He was tall and attractive. His face was as chiseled and hard as stone, with high cheekbones, the biggest, clearest dark eyes, and the fullest, most flawless lips. I had never seen a man as gorgeous as him.
I didn't blink as I continued to stare at him, and when I did, I noticed that my sister, who was very inebriated, was in his arm. His attention was on her.
He asked, staring at me, "Can I come in?"
"What!" I blurted out, and heat immediately appeared on my cheeks.
His icy gaze nearly caused me to stop breathing. He continued to look at me for a few seconds before moving closer to me. I realized he was asking me a question when he furrowed his brow in irritation.
He asked me, "Where is her room?"
I said, "Sorry, please go this way."
He entered the space as Riya was practically dozing off on him, and I moved out of the way.
I had to relax myself since my heart was racing. I was speechless because this was my first meeting with a handsome male species. I can be such a stupid girl.
He suddenly muttered, "Excuse me," as he approached from behind me. I spun around and nearly fell on the cushion I had set down while watching the movie. I was about to drop to the hard floor when his hand wrapped around my waist and grabbed me.
When I opened my eyes to discover a pair of intense eyes staring down at me, I felt as though I might jump out of my skin. That gorgeous stranger. My tummy fluttered with a delightful sensation as my chest started to thump. I was held by him. He was so near to me that I could feel his breath on my face. His perfect skin, firm jaw, and sensual lips compelled me to stare. How could this flawless a man be? Strong, with broad shoulders, a tall stature of around 6'3 or 6'4, with a five o'clock shadow.
"Like, what are you gazing at?" My gaze was broken by his deep voice. Before I could distance myself from him. He pushed me aside.
He remarked, "You are ruining my clothes."
I then noticed that his t-shirts sleeves were wrinkled from the way I was holding him tightly. He used his hand to dust his clothing as if I were some sort of sickness.
I turned to face him as he said, "Are you the maid of the house?"
I said, "No... I'm her sister."
"Is it?" His voice was seductive, deep, and frigid. I could not take my eyes off his striking black eyes. He didn't blink once as he remained staring at me. I pondered whether he would ever blink.
He came up to me and stooped to be at eye level. We were now facing each other. As he got closer to me, I could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing. I made an effort not to tremble with anxiety. My hands, though, trembled helplessly.
"Nobody could possibly think Riya was your sister. The poor girl is so ashamed of you that she always claims to be the sole child of her parents. Do you feel awful about it?" He spoke arrogantly and smirked, and his gorgeous face made me want to slap him. A moment ago, I wanted to keep staring at him, but right now, I want to give him a firm slap.
"No, it doesn't make me feel awful. I am aware of my value, and I don't need anyone to tell me where I belong. You may now exit if you are finished. I appreciate you bringing my sister." I went to the door and unlocked it so that he could go and I never had to see his face again.
He grinned haughtily once more before leaving, and I entered the room, locked the door, and sat down on my couch.
Most of the time, people can be cruel. What right do attractive people have to belittle and abuse those who are less fortunate? Is a person's external beauty worth everything? Nobody seems to understand how a person's inner spirit ought to be lovely. Nobody has the right to belittle another person. Then, after turning out the lights in the living area, I went to my bedroom and fell asleep.