Side Character's Curse

17|| Family

NISHA

I remembered everything now.

I was the middle child– one elder sister, and one younger brother. I felt neglected and forgotten, failing to recognise how tirelessly my parents had worked to support our family. In a fit of wild, rebellious, teenage fancy, I withdrew my application to university and left home, cutting all contact at eighteen.

I'd contacted a friend who managed to set me up in this ramshackle studio for four years. It was tiny: a single bed held my clothes and books, a kitchen which was really just a sink and broken stove, and a dingy toilet and bathroom crawling with mould. My mind was full of romantic nonsense, the rose-tinted glasses were firmly planted, and I thought I could survive the cutthroat world with no guidance or degree.

Now, I was stuck in a dead-end job at a crappy restaurant with limited pay and long hours.

I was too ashamed, and egotistical, to go back. I thought it would be admitting defeat. Or, worse, they would ridicule me for my choices.

With trembling fingers, I picked up my phone– screen cracked from one too many drops– and dialled a number. I ran my fingers through the split ends of my dry, dark hair. My shirt was far too big for me and my ribs protruded from my belly in awkward angles. I couldn't recall the last time I had a proper meal.

The call went through on the third ring.

"Hello?" A woman's words croaked. "Who is this?" The sounds of pots and pans clanged against each other.

I took a shuddering breath, clutching the device with both hands. "Mumma? It– it's me, Nisha."

Clang!

"Nisha? Isha, is that really you? Sweetheart, why are you crying? Rakesh! Come, come here! Nisha has called and she's upset."

"Nisha, is that you?" My father's calm voice trembled. I could imagine his bushy brows furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." I covered my eyes and looked up, almost on the brink of wailing. "Mumma, Papa... can I come home?" Do I still have a place in your family?

"Yes, yes, you can come whenever you want," Mum said without a pause. Of course you do. You always will.

**

I stood in front of the three-storey house, patting down any stray strands of hair which could have been dislodged from my bun during the long car drive. I'd chosen to wear the smartest outfit I owned: faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with floral patterns on the edges, along with brown sandals.

In the tapestry of life, every soul– regardless of its flaws or scars– is weaved with golden threads deserving of love.

I gathered my courage, holding onto those words tightly in my mind, and walked to the front door. I knocked three times and waited.

Not even half a second later, it was torn back and a weight was thrown on me. I stumbled back, the soothing scent of spices tickled my nose, and I hugged my mother back fiercely.

"Isha, you've gotten so thin!" She cupped face and I saw my father standing behind her. I'd grown taller than her over the years and her warm, brown eyes reflected nothing but love and pride. "Are you not eating properly? Come, come, we're all waiting inside for you."

"Yes, Isha, come inside and tell us what you've been up to." Father wrapped his strong arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his embrace, kissing the top of my head. "Priya and Aarav are waiting."

A sinking feeling emerged in my stomach as we entered the home. "Oh... are they– are they still mad at me?"

Tiny details slotted into place. Aarav had been twelve when I left and we had been very close before my departure. Priya was also my mentor and I looked up to her greatly. In the past, they'd come to my new place and begged me to come home. Every time, I cast them away. If they hated me, I wouldn't blame them.

The hallway was the same. Shoes littered the rack on the left side beneath piles of coats hanging on the pegs. On the walls were pen lines marking out the heights of my siblings and I over the years. I spotted childhood drawings which had never been painted over, and smelled my favourite foods wafting from the kitchen. At Mother's encouraging nod, I eased open the glass sliding doors to the dining room.

"Isha!" Again, I was pulled into another hug– tight and full of longing. "It's so, so good to see you again."

"Priya! I have missed you so much." She hadn't changed much: tall with silky black hair and sharp, coconut-coloured eyes which reminded me of the female lead in–

No. I mentally shook my head. That chapter in my life is closed now. I have to move on.

I wiped away the tears. "Where's Aarav?"

"I'm here," a gruff voice spoke up. A teenage boy had one leg propped up and was scrolling through social media. But his hands were shaking so much I knew he was paying close attention to my movements. "So, the wayward daughter returns."

I grinned and bonked him over the head. "Hullo, Captain Avi. It's been a while."

He turned, wrapped his arm around my waist, and squeezed tightly. Aarav's voice was muffled and choked, "Hey, Major Isha. I've... well, it's not been the same without you."

"Isha, look!" Priya held up a bowl of something yellow with a smile that threatened to split her face in two. "When I heard you were coming, I made your favourite– mango ice cream. Do you remember when we were kids and you went crazy anytime you saw it so everyone used to call you Mango?"

I'm sorry I lied, Mango.

I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I stared at the dessert and broke down.

I'm home, but he's not here with me.

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Total word count: 27 403

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