Vyom mocked her in a funny, squeaky voice. “Bleh-bleh-bleh, bak-bak-bak!”
“Rabba, isko thodi akal de,” she whispered to herself, exasperated.
As they carried the heavy boxes up the narrow stairs, Vyom found himself walking behind her. He tried to look away, but his eyes naturally fell to the hem of her mint kurti. With every upward step she took, the short side-slits fluttered, exposing the soft, jiggling flesh of her thick, milky thighs. For a split second, he caught the dark, secretive shadow of her lace panties peeking from under the short denim hem.
Waheguru, Vyom, what the fuck are you doing? She is your sister! His mind screamed in psychological horror, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him. But his eyes refused to obey. But damn… those are objectively perfect legs. It’s not my fucking fault she wore something so short. His heart pounded against his ribs, a sick, sweet thrill rushing through his blood, making his toes curl inside his shoes.
After a few more exhausting trips, everything was finally inside. Urvin immediately started placing her small plants everywhere. She dropped a new sketchpad on the coffee table and dragged her large, wooden drawing board out of her room.
“Tu isko yahan kyu rakh rahi hai?” Vyom asked, fully exasperated.
“Kyunki mera room chhota hai. Agar tu apna bada kamra mainu nahi de reha, toh main yahan baithungi. Natural light acchi aundi hai yahan!”
“Andhera hai wahan, dimag kharab mat kar!”
Urvin rolled her eyes dramatically, dipped into her room, and brought out a tall, modern floor lamp. She planted it right next to the couch, held the plug right in front of his face, and pushed it into the socket with absolute attitude. “Tadaaa!”
She stood up and crossed her arms, pushing her heavy breasts up and together, looking at him smugly.
“Theek hai. Jo karna hai kar. Main so reha haan,” he said matter-of-factly. He walked over and dramatically dropped onto the couch cushions. “Time for a nap.”
Vyom fell asleep fast. Their mother always said he could sleep through a tornado. When he woke up an hour later, the apartment felt different. The plants were arranged beautifully. Her movies dvds were placed neatly next to his TV. A sweet, warm apple and cinnamon candle was burning on the table. Right next to it were his dirty socks, with a yellow Post-It note stuck to them: ‘Tu kinna ganda hai yaar.’
Nearby, Urvin sat on a small stool, quietly sketching the living room.
He looked up at the opposite wall and saw a beautiful, unframed painting of mountains, a serene lake, and tall pine trees. He tilted his head, staring at it deeply.
Urvin raised a perfect eyebrow without looking up from her pad. “Let me guess… tainu yeh vi pasand nahi aaya?”
He looked at her, genuinely confused.
“Kya? Nahi… I mean, I actually like it. Yeh hamare us Shimla trip jaisa lag reha hai.”
“Thank you.”
“Kiske layi?”
“Tareef de layi.”
“Wait. Yeh tune banaya hai?”
She nodded softly. “Last year banaya si.”
Vyom’s eyes widened. “Seriously? From memory?”
She nodded again. “Ghar vich bohot shanti si tere bina. Main poora din practice kardi si.”
