4

Ritik

Finally.

Oh, at long last.

I arrived at my city.

 The fragrance of moist earth lingers in the air. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled.

After this crappy journey. I'm completely fatigued. I'm feeling sticky and sweaty right now.

 Right now, I prefer a bath.

Wow, I feel revitalized. And I love how my house smells. This is referred to as home. I sat on my bed which was closed to the window. Looking out the window, the rain has slowed in comparison to when we arrived. As far as I'm aware, rain never ceases, and if it did, it may suddenly start to pour heavily.

 I enjoy the rainy season. It's a romantic season, the atmosphere, the aroma of dirt, it's a feeling. Why do humans dislike rain? It's like listening to music. It's like having a feeling that you can't put into words. I'm completely desperate for rain.

"Your cup of coffee, sir!" My sister walked into my room and handed me a cup of coffee.

This is what I meant when I mentioned it. Coffee and rain: a seductive pairing. The coffee aroma permeated every area of my space. She is aware of how much I like a cup of coffee when I am worn out.

She sat next to me while I watched the rain and said, "Thank you, mam."

"How are you feeling?" My attention was drawn to my sister's words.

"Is it about the rain or something?" I cited the outside. I had no idea what she was on about.

"About the house. It's been a month," she said, taking a drink and looking at me. I remained mute. Taking on the sense of home, as if it were my final day on Earth.

"Good," I said, but my words became lodged in my throat. I wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Do you mind sharing your opinion, Didi? sis,  I heard from mum that you rejected many boys. I'm sorry, guys." I laughed, snorting at the guy's phrase "why?" and I turned completely to face her. I was excited to learn about it. I may sound insane, but I'm genuinely looking forward to her wedding. Instead of her, I want to dance, have fun, and invite my buddies to my bachelor party.

Yes, I am aware that this is a party excuse.

"Ritik, please stop talking about it now. Don't start over." My question elicited a grimace from her. "I'm sick of these. They're not my type, brother. I need someone who will make me feel special, who will help me with other chores, and most importantly, he should allow me to work after marriage," she sneered. I had no notion she had a kind, like I mean she has a type. Why do boys refuse to support their wife's employment? As their parents encourage their daughter to be self-sufficient. Why is it an issue for the other family? As if their daughter weren't already doing the work.

"Ritik" she piques my attention.

"I realize we live in a nation where nothing has changed. So I'm doing my best to live up to their expectations." She grabbed my hands. She speaks again, sitting down and glancing out the window, "But you now know what my expectations are." And I also want you to be that person. You must ensure that your wife will work after marrying you, even if society would object. Because she is also the proud daughter of someone. Please keep that in mind."

I agreed with a nod. Daughters, indeed, make their families proud. Who are we if her family has no objections to her working? She rubbed my back and instructed me to get ready for the evening party before leaving. Yes, an evening gathering for my father's side, not for me. He stated that it was one of his coworker's wife's birthday. I grimaced. Why should his wife, who has no relationship with anyone, have to rejoice with us? I sat there lazily, taking my time.

It was becoming dark.

I dressed comfortably for the weather. It's still pouring outside. Looking in the mirror, then at the volley ball beside it. My favorite ball, indeed. I adjusted my hair as I existed the room,

.

We arrive at our destination. It was a little apartment. I suppose it's their residence. We arrived on time. Nothing unusual was done. They are the transferee, according to what I've heard. As a result, they had to purchase a room. However, because their family had relocated, they needed to find a new place to live. My dad agreed to offer them our empty apartment since he knows them. But they rejected politely.

We have two apartments, one is ours and the other is unoccupied; I mostly live in the latter one. I enjoy living alone on occasion. And that flat is directly across the street from the main flat. We reside in an apartment building with numerous other apartment buildings nearby. It's a completely flat system.

I noticed a large crowd approaching the room. Were we running late? I'm not sure. There are a lot of people here. Guess who is the last one to arrive.

No, they arrived before us.

I took a seat on one of the four corners.

I have no contact with them, so why should I get engaged with them? I scan through the reels on my phone. Many congratulations appeared on my screen. Is it already airing on television? I checked everywhere, but there is no television. My cheeks was flushed with dissatisfaction. I'd like to see my face on TV. How do I appear? Even though it wasn't the first time, I enjoyed seeing myself there. It's reassuring, isn't it? Knowing that you have attained your goal.

I groaned and turned to face them. They were having a good time. They must be happier than his wife.

One of my dad's employees yells, "Called them to bring the cake." Now the birthday celebrations will begin. I better get up or I'll be noticed. I stood up and approached my sister. She then walked away from me and went inside. Then she reappeared, accompanied by someone else with the cake. My sister was covering the frame of someone, so I can't see them, but the cake was red velvet.

RED VELVET, ******* RED VELVET.

This is my favorite cake.

Damn.

I was pleased when I saw the cake. as soon as I noticed others placing candles on the cake. My gaze traveled from the hands to her shoulder and finally to her face.

Wait a second.

I saw her.

Where?

. . . . .

Oh, please.

I gasp.

SHE IS THE HIGH SCHOOLER STUDENT...

On the train, we met.

What a bizarre coincidence.

She had finished her task and was looking around when her gaze met mine.

Thump. Thump. Thump

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