Pops mostly remained quiet while mum spoke. He was either really tired due to his old age that he didn't have the energy to respond to her, or he was really smart, waiting for her to tire out after using up all her energy as she said all that she wanted to say.

"You know the electricity bill will increase more than last time if you keep this going. We aren't rich. We don't have a lot of money. And there are three people living in this house."
"Then, do you want me to go to work at this age?" Pops asked her in his frail voice. Since he wouldn't speak much, whenever he did speak his voice sounded broken and barely audible.

"Of course not! Then you'll break your hip and I'll have to take care of you. I can barely take care of myself!" mum's voice, on the other hand, was loud and initially I used to be afraid the neighbours could hear us. They probably could, but at this point, I didn't care. I was so tired of it all. Lacking the energy to listen to them squabble, I retreated to my room.

My room. My dull, lifeless dusty old room. A few random things were scattered on the table by the window. A few text books were stacked on it by the wall. Fresh laundry from yesterday were dumped on my bed. Mum might have come by my room while I was in the bathroom.

I slowly started folding them neatly and my eyes fell on the pair of jeans that once upon a time were my favorite. I hadn't worn them in the past three years. I hadn't worn them since I had come back home from the city. I always put them out thinking that I'll wear soon, only I haven't, in three years.

I took my phone and fell back onto the bed. As usual I checked my mail. Nope. Nothing new there. No response from any of the places I had applied to. Just a lot of spam. And these days, I apply to jobs just for namesake. I had given up on it. I kind of knew, that they would never reply.

I could still hear muffled discussion between mum and dad from downstairs. Sometimes I feel they want me to hear it. Honestly, I didn't care anymore. Because for the past few days, maybe even months I'm not sure, I had been planning something.

I raised myself from my bed, leaving my phone behind and slowly walked out of my room. I made sure not to make any noise.

As I approached the steps, their voice grew louder. I remained quiet and hidden, as I listened to them.

"She is 37 years old. All her siblings have done well in life while she is still here, moping around," said Mum.
"Why can't she find someone, get married and live her life?" Dad raised his worry.
"Oh you mean like we did?" Mum retorted.

I have been hearing this for the past few months so it wasn't anything new.

"Because she dresses like an old lady. Her long skirt, oversize sweater, untidy hair... She doesn't know how to groom herself. That's why she can't find anyone."

"She should still try hard to find a job. She is educated after all."

"That is all she is, isn't it? Educated. But nobody would hire her because of her personality. She is so silent and weak. She has no energy. Who would hire someone like that?"

"She takes after you," said mum, "Doesn't open her mouth. Even if she does, I can barely hear her."
"That's because of you. You never shut your mouth and she is afraid to open hers," dad said, louder than a mumble.
"Somebody has to speak up! She needs to know that she isn't doing well. Look at all her cousins and friends-"

I rolled my eyes. Making myself unnoticed, I climbed down the stairs, carefully skipping the particular stair that usually made noise. One thing I really liked about our house is that, from the living room you couldn't see the front door.