Nidhi, an adopted child, lost her biological parents in a horrific accident at the tender age of four, resulting in the most traumatic experience of her life.
While her father showers her with love, the same cannot be said about her mother. Nidhi pl...
When I entered, Shivani and Roshni occupied the drawing room, exchanging giggles that reverberated throughout the space. However, upon noticing me, they hastily fell into silence.
"Shivani, where is uncle?" I inquired.
"Jiju, he's in his room. He wants to speak with you privately," she responded, emphasizing the need for privacy.
Roshni couldn't help but giggle again. I shot her an annoyed glance but kept my words to myself.
"What's amusing?" I questioned.
"Nothing, Bhai," Roshni hurriedly replied.
"Which room is his?" I asked.
"First floor, the leftmost room in the corner," she answered, suppressing her smile.
"You two have lost it," I remarked, irritated.
With that, I ascended the stairs to the first floor.
The first floor was shrouded in darkness. As I cautiously opened the door, standing on the threshold, I felt a sudden forceful push. It didn't make me stumble, but I jerked slightly, saving myself from a fall.
Amidst their giggles, I heard Adarsh's voice. "Adarsh, what's going on? Uncle urgently asked me to come here; he's waiting," I exclaimed in frustration.
"Bhai, just go inside. Uncle is waiting for you," Adarsh replied, still giggling.
Navigating a narrow hallway, I spotted Nidhi's photograph on the wall. It dawned on me that I was in Nidhi's room, not Uncle's.
Walking towards the door, I knocked twice. "Priya, please listen. Nidhi won't appreciate it; it's not about me, she'll feel uncomfortable," I pleaded.
"Nope, not opening," Priya stubbornly replied.
"Ugh," I sighed as I entered. Inside, I saw Nidhi reclining on the couch. The room was dimly lit, yet enough for me to appreciate her in a mesmerizing yellow saree, looking breathtaking.
She possessed a slender yet curvaceous figure, accentuating her graceful allure. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, held a captivating intensity, framed by full, luscious lips.
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Exquisitely captivating, her gaze possesses the power to enthrall anyone, compelling them to willingly embrace their own demise enchanted by her beauty.
Both of her hands were adorned with intricate Henna designs, extending just above her delicate wrists. The couch was strategically placed by the open window, allowing a gentle breeze to fill the room.
I wondered how she hadn't sensed my approach.
"Priya, I'm famished, but this henna only smells delightful; it wouldn't pair well with chapati. Please feed me," she requested, eyes still closed. My gaze shifted to the plate of food on the table.
