The heavy, suffocating humidity of the Chandigarh afternoon pressed against the glass windows, making the air inside feel impossibly thick. Vyom paced the small living room of his apartment. The humid air hung in the room, matching the suffocating, anxious weight in his chest. Well, for a few more minutes, this space was his alone.
Just two weeks ago, not even a month after he had moved into this place on his own for his third year of college, his parents happily informed him that his elder sister, Urvin, was moving in. She had somehow managed to get a waiver to skip the mandatory hostel rules for her university course. He had hoped moving to an entirely different city would be enough to get away from her heavy, overbearing presence, but no… she always got her way.
Again!
Sometimes he felt she did it on purpose. As if her entire life was focused on being his absolute biggest headache on this planet.
His freedom? Gone.
Living alone? Nope.
Hiding his beloved packets of Kurkure and bottles of Thums Up once again? Yep!
And, of course, he couldn’t say ‘no.’ Papaji and Mummyji were paying the majority of the rent and his college fees. Moving her in saved them money, so he had zero say in the matter.
Last week, their parents moved the heavy stuff into the second bedroom. Her large bed, a makeup table, most of her clothes, her massive drawing board. She didn’t even make the trip with them, making a convenient excuse to spend the final weekend with her friends.
Today, she was arriving with the rest of her stuff. And, as usual, she was late. She was never on time.
He wasn’t exactly sure what annoyed him more about her. She was loud, she naturally absorbed all the attention in any room, and she never seemed to get in trouble. Oh, and she was breathtakingly beautiful, and the worst part was—she knew it perfectly well. She was Papa’s little princess and Mummy’s darling, packed into a curvy, five-foot-six, perfectly shaped body. She possessed thick, milky thighs, heavy round breasts, and a tiny waist that drove men crazy. Her dark hair had beautifully blended platinum blonde highlights, and her light hazel eyes always looked flawless behind long, expertly batted lashes. She carried that arrogant, typical spoiled Punjabi girl attitude: I always get what I want, and everybody loves me.
At least he got the bigger bedroom this time, unlike back at home.
Lost in his thoughts, Vyom physically jumped when three heavy thuds hit the wooden front door, rattling the brass lock. He froze. A dark, nervous heat pooled in the pit of his stomach. He cracked his neck and took a deep, shaky breath.
Three more thuds, stronger this time. She was clearly kicking the door with her foot.
“Oye, Vyom! Darwaza khol jaldi, mera lakk tutt reha hai!” came her bossy, melodic voice from the other side.
He exhaled heavily and slowly walked to the door, opening it just as she raised her foot to kick it again.
“Oh, shukar hai Waheguru da, tu zinda hai! Mainu laga andar mar-mur gaya!” she said with a sarcastic, blinding smile.
