Kayal's bedroom picture👆

"Come in."

Those were the only words my father said.

As soon as I stepped into the living room, I heard him slam the front door shut behind me. The loud thud echoed through the house. It was probably meant for me, but the poor door had to bear the first blow of his anger.

Sorry, dear door. You're like my twin sister. Every time my father loses his temper with me, you're always the first to share a part of his wrath.

I tried to slip quietly towards my room, pretending I hadn't heard anything.

Keyword: tried.

I had barely taken a few steps before my father's not-so-loving voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Stop you ugly bitch...Where do you think you're going?"

His words struck me hard.

I knew I couldn't expect anything from my father except insults like these. But my foolish heart never stopped hoping. It kept convincing me that one day he would become the father I had always dreamed of the kind who would treat me the way he treated my elder sister, Kavya, or the way most fathers treated their daughters.

But that wasn't my story. In my father's eyes, I wasn't a princess. I was a witch.

Unlike Kavya, who lived the life of a true princess, surrounded by love, affection, and every comfort our family could offer, I was the unwanted one—the girl who could never seem to earn even a fraction of the love she received.

Lost in thoughts of my wretched fate, I completely forgot that my father had been calling me from behind—using all sorts of "lovely" names.

His final shout dragged me back to reality.

I slowly turned to face him, but I couldn't bring myself to raise my head and look him in the eyes.

Please don't misunderstand me. It wasn't because I didn't respect him. It was because my own father hated looking at my face.

He always told me never to show my face to him. According to him, I was a bad omen, and even a single glance at me would bring him misfortune.

So I kept my head lowered, just the way he liked it.

He already taunted me enough just for living under his roof. The only reason he still allowed me to stay was for the sake of society. He was afraid that if he threw me out, people would talk, and his precious reputation would be ruined.

But why couldn't he understand that I would never do anything to tarnish his name?

I didn't even have the freedom to speak my mind within these four walls. Sometimes, it felt as though I wasn't living in my own home at all.

It felt like I was nothing more than an unwanted guest in a stranger's house.

"Bitch, again where did you lose in your dreamland? Or planning to how to destroy us?".

Sorry, am I lost in my thoughts again? Oh, my stupid brain why were you also getting me into trouble? Putting the full stop to my thoughts I said " Sorry Appa".

"Who needs your useless sorry, I just need your part of the salary. Unless your salary you are useless to us. I thought you ran away with your salary or roaming with your idiot friend spending all the money.

You may roam the whole country and go whoring around anywhere else, I don't mind it. But if I hear anything like destroying my family's reputation, You will see my other face which you wouldn't like to see." he warned me in a dark tone. Like I'd never seen that face, I thought.

Again, he continued, “Now get lost from here. Stop standing in the same place like an ugly, fat statue, and quickly make dinner for us. It’s already past eight, and you know very well that your brother and sister have respectable workplaces to go to tomorrow—unlike you, who are doing work that doesn’t suit our family’s status at all,” he burst out.

“ Our family.” Those words felt strangely foreign to me.

“Okay, Appa. Give me 15 minutes. I’ll quickly freshen up and make dinner,” I said, rushing toward my room.

I didn’t want to hear another word from him. I had had enough for one day.

After I entered my room, I closed the door behind me and finally released the breath I had been holding for what felt like hours. My chest ached as the air rushed back into my lungs, but even then, I couldn’t breathe freely.

Not completely.

Some part of me was still afraid that he would hear it—that even the sound of my breathing could become another reason to be angry with me.

I stood there silently, reminding myself that I was inside my own room, inside my own house. Yet somehow, this place never felt like it belonged to me. The air felt heavy, as if every breath had to ask for permission before entering my lungs.

I had learned to walk quietly, speak carefully, and exist without taking up too much space. I had learned to measure my expressions, my words, even my silence.

Because in this house, anything could become a mistake.

And every mistake had a price.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm the storm inside me. But the suffocating feeling remained, reminding me that sometimes a prison doesn’t need locked doors.

Sometimes, it only needs a place you are supposed to call home.

Oops… my room.

This is one of the few places in this entire house where I actually feel like myself.

Can you guess the next place?

It’s the small garden behind our house. A quiet little corner that almost no one visits. They always say they are too busy—so busy that they don’t even have time to step into their own garden.

Why am I even thinking about their work?

I have a huge task waiting for me now.

So, I’ll continue from here after finishing my so-called “important” task.

Sorry, guys....

After freshening up, I changed into my comfortable kurti and hurried to the kitchen.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but somehow, within around 30 minutes, I managed to finish cooking and arranged everything neatly on our small dining table—the one that was just enough for our cute, beautiful family.

Yes, I know. That was a small, useless joke.

I’ll probably make comments like this often, so please don’t mind me. Sometimes, a little humor is the only way to make certain things easier to handle.

Once I finished arranging everything, I called them for dinner.

My father entered first, followed by my brother and sister. I served chapati and dhal curry with paneer butter masala—the Indian dishes I had prepared for our dinner.

I simply reheated the paneer butter masala I had made in the morning for lunch and served it along with the rest of the meal.

Thank God, who was watching from heaven, they surprisingly didn’t utter a single word. They simply finished their dinner and left for their respective rooms.

As usual, no one bothered to ask me to join them.

Karthik always looked like he wanted to invite me. I could see it in his eyes—the hesitation, the words waiting to come out. But every time, those words seemed to disappear before they even reached his lips.

Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he didn’t know how to stand between me and them.

After listening to my father’s endless tantrums, I had completely lost my appetite anyway. So I quietly cleaned everything in the kitchen and finally returned to my heavenly bedroom—the only place in this house where I could find a little peace.

I slipped under my comfortable duvet, hugged my pillow tightly, and closed my eyes, welcoming the silence that came with sleep.

For a few hours, I just wanted to escape.

To be somewhere far away from this house… far away from these people who made me feel like a stranger in my own home.

>>>>>>

°Appa- Father

Hi Lovelies,

That's for now...

Love u and Take care ☘️❤️