Owning a vacuum cleaner in Nadiyapur was a huge deal.
For one, it was outrageously expensive and a great help with daily chores. Second, shipping anything to their remote mountain village meant paying extra—a fortune, really. Only a few families owned one. Isra's family was among them, thanks to a gift from her grandmother. The vacuum was regal red, polished to perfection, with not a single scratch marring its surface. Even the pipe was in pristine condition.
Now, that very vacuum was stuffed into Isra's mud-laden bag.
If her mother could see her precious vacuum defiled like this, there would be no end to the scolding. But Isra was a mastermind. She had spent the entire day helping her mother with chores, earning enough trust to gain access to the cupboard key. That was where the vacuum was locked away from her "demon daughters." And now? It was stolen.
Meanwhile, Khadija was busy plucking flowers. She had gathered an entire tub of them. Later that night, they would venture out to arrange the flowers cozily in a remote spot, as part of their grand scheme.
Days passed, and for the first time, the plan had executed perfectly. The girls had done it—they had actually kidnapped the cloud. It was stuffed inside the vacuum. Now, all they had to do was sneak it into the house.
Under cover of darkness, the two girls climbed over the fence and skipped across a few walls, dangerously maneuvering along narrow ledges until they reached the base of Isra's bedroom window. A small steel pipe provided unsteady footing, and Isra went up first. She climbed like a monkey demon set loose upon the world, completely at ease with the danger.
After peeking through the window and spotting Miraaj, her elder sister, inside, they decided against entering directly. Isra silently gestured for them to hop to the next balcony. This one led to the dining area, which appeared empty.
The plan was going flawlessly, without a single blemish or hurdle. The girls were moments away from sneaking inside when their luck abruptly ended.
There was one flaw they hadn't accounted for—a tiny miscalculation that would change everything.
Walking out of the bedroom window, a young woman in her late thirties stepped onto the balcony, staring down in utter disbelief. Her sharp gray eyes, the same as Isra's, widened as she took in the sight of the two troublemakers dangling precariously.
For a few tense moments, the two girls and the woman simply stared at each other in silence.
"Oh, hello, Ms. Amna," Khadija spoke first, her voice breaking the awkward pause. She forced a sheepish smile.
Isra and her mother remained locked in an intense stare-down.
Without a word, Ms. Amna reached down, grabbed Isra by the arm, and yanked her into the dining area. Khadija followed reluctantly.
Ms. Amna stood there quietly, her gaze fixed on Isra. It was hard to believe that this demon child was hers sometimes.
"I won't even bother asking what happened," she said flatly, walking past Isra and turning her attention to Khadija, who suddenly seemed very interested in an empty perfume bottle on the shelf.
"Khadija, what happened?" Ms. Amna asked with an air of calm authority.
"You know, out of the two of you, you've always been the sensible one, Khadija. And your birthday is coming up too. You know Aunty never forgets birthday gifts."
Khadija froze.
"So, I was thinking... how would you like a life-sized Buttercup stuffed toy? And maybe we could bake that almond cake you love so much."
Khadija's mouth twitched at the tempting offer. She glanced at Isra, who was glaring at her, eyes drilling ominous holes into her soul.
"I really don't know, Aunty…" Khadija began, choosing her words carefully. "I was just passing by when Isra insisted we climb the wall instead of using the door."
Ms. Amna smiled faintly. She was kind, but she was also manipulative, and Khadija could feel the subtle interrogation beneath her words.
"Oh, very clever! I see what's going on."
Ms. Amna turned to Isra, who had her best blank expression plastered across her face.
"I will get to the bottom of this," she said, her voice low and measured. "You won't get away this time. Mark my words, Isra—I will find out what's going on, one way or another."
Isra stared back, dumbfounded. The best way to evade her mother's questions was to play dumb, she knew. To act so clueless that her genius would never be suspected. In her mind, she was already grinning. The game was hers, as it always had been.
She laughed silently to herself. And then, the bag shook.
An unexpected, crisp meow came from where Khadija was standing.