A woman from other world.

  "So, how's your day going at the hostel?" asked a woman in a deep blue sari, gazing out the window. In the doorway, her daughter Navomi stood, staring at her mother’s back, who sat facing the large window on the comfy sofa. "Can't you show me your ugly face?" A hint of anger twisted Navomi's dull expression, but the woman remained nonchalant, as if unaffected by the venom in her daughter's voice. She simply said, "What a great mouth of yours..."

  She laughed softly, the sound almost cruel, and continued, "Oh, Navomi, you're my daughter. That ugliness in me is also inherited by you—it's your bane, your burden to carry."

  She then turned her face toward her daughter, a smirk creeping across her lips. "Where is your younger brother? Where's Kriti?" she asked, her voice tinged with cold amusement, watching her daughter’s anger simmer beneath the surface.

  Dressed in a black shirt and pants, Navomi stood silent, her will to respond crushed under the weight of her mother’s gaze. The woman asked again, her tone sharpening, her eyes growing darker, more unsettling.

  "Where's my son, Navomi?"

  The room's air felt denser. The room where this scene was unfolding was beautiful. Its walls were paneled with shining dark oak wood. In one corner stood three large, dark bookshelves, packed with books—except for the middle one, where a few were missing from the bottom shelf.

  The AC was off, but the ceiling fan spun rapidly. Still, the room was much colder than it should have been.

  Navomi’s mother pointed her index finger toward the vacant space in the middle shelf.

  "Your brother has borrowed some books from there. I want you to borrow a book too, then leave me alone and go straight to your room, okay?"

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "And also send your brother to me. I want to talk to him."

  "I don’t want a book," Navomi replied. "I want to talk to you."

  "About what?"

  "About... Auntie Reena’s death. It’s been a week since she died, and I only heard the news today—from Kriti. Why the hell didn’t you inform me, Sonya?"

  Calling your parent by name is usually rude, but Navomi’s respect for her mother, Sonya, had long since faded. It had shattered a year ago—when Sonya sent her to the hostel, away from her little brother. The worst part? Sonya never contacted her, not even once, in that whole year. She had alienated her daughter—from herself, and from Kriti.

  It doe—

  "Shut up, you..." Navomi’s voice cracked. "You know I loved Auntie Reena..."

  She began to sob softly. Her heart was heavy with anger and sadness, but she couldn’t express either properly.

  "She was the last person connected to my father. Why didn't... you t—"

  "Don’t cry, Navomi. It was for your own sake. If I had told you earlier, you wouldn’t have been able to handle it. You were alone there. I was going to tell you tomorrow..."

  Navomi went silent.

  "Sorry... for my behavior."

  And with that, Navomi left.

  Navomi opened the door to her brother's room. It was afternoon. He was sleeping quietly. The AC had turned the room cold.

  She slunk over to his bed, lay down beside him silently, and hugged him. She was crying badly.

  "Kriti, we’re both the product of that ugliness... but still, you shine more than me. Is it because of our father? Or did you just get a boon from God? I wish I had received that boon too."

  "Oh Lord, I wish I had received that boon too..."

  In the deep stillness, Navomi’s voice faded into silence.