“Freedom tastes sweetest when stolen from the chaos.”
“Diu, kya kar rahe ho aap? Aur yeh aap bag laga ke kidhar ja rahe ho… vo bhi balcony se… ek minute— BALCONY SE?” Dhuvi’s voice pierced through her half-asleep haze.
“Shhh… Dhuvi, don’t shout! Maa–Papa uth jaayenge,” I whispered, adjusting the strap of my backpack.
“Kya shh? Aap kar kya rahi ho?” she asked again, now wide awake and visibly worried.
“Ghar se bhaag rahi hoon,” I said calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Her eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”
Yes, folks. You heard that right—main ghar se bhaag rahi hoon.
Now I know you’re wondering: Why would someone like me run away from home?
Toh chalo… ek chhota sa flashback ho jaaye.
*FLASHBACK*
“Kaun hai yeh Mayur Malhotra? Jab dekho, rank list mein sabse upar yeh hi!” I grumbled, scrolling through the notice board post.
“Kya hua, Diu?” Dhuvi asked, still focused on blending colors on her canvas.
“Mayur Malhotra.” I said the name without any effort.
“Wait… the topper guy?” she blinked.
I crossed my arms. “THE topper guy. First rank in every semester, every subject. Even in subjects I thought I’d nailed. I haven’t even seen his face — and I already want to slap it.”
“Diu, he’s in your batch, right?”
“Apparently. We’re both in business. But our batch is so overcrowded, sabko sab dikhte bhi nahi. Different timetables, different electives, group reshuffles — it’s like we exist in parallel dimensions.”
“So... you’ve never met him, but you hate him?”
“Hate is a light word. He’s stolen my throne, Dhuvi. I was always the first-ranker — the it girl in every class. Then this invisible boy shows up and snatches my crown like it’s a free sample. And I haven’t even seen him!”
“Maybe he’s just smart,” she shrugged.
“Maybe I’m just cursed.”
Dhuvi giggled. I ignored her.
“Toh kab tak banega painting? Mujhe lights off karni hai. Kal college ka function bhi hai.”
Before I could finish that sentence — boom! — Maa entered like a storm.
“Kal tum dono mein se koi college nahi jaayega.”
“KYUN??” Dhuvi and I chorused, staring at her.
She walked up, smiling suspiciously. And said the dreaded words:
“Kal meri guddiya rani ko dekhne ladke wale aa rahe hain.”
What.
Did.
She.
Just.
Say?
I blinked.
Then I looked at Dhuvi.
Then back at Maa.
And laughed. Out loud.
Dhuvi joined me, almost wheezing. “Mimi, joke accha tha!”
But Maa’s icy glare could even freeze the global warming. The room turned silent in an instant.
“Joke lagta hai tumko?”
“Maa, har angle se joke hi lag raha hai! Ladka mujhe dekhne aa raha hai? Kya main shaadi.com hoon?”
“Haan toh? kyun nahi aa sakta? Ya ab tujhe ladkiyon mein interest hai? Ladkiyaan dekhne aayein tujhe?”
Dhuvi snorted. One glare and she zipped up.
“Maa, that’s not what I meant! I’m saying—why now?”
“Abhi nahi, kal aa raha hai,” she replied flatly.
Dhuvi snorted again, and this time I glared at her to shut her up.
“Maa, I’m 21. I have goals. Career. MBA dreams. And yeah, I need to snatch back my rank from Mr. Ghost Topper. Mujhe timepass nahi karna shaadi-shuda hokar.”
“Haan toh? Meri toh 20 mein shaadi ho gayi thi.”
“Toh fir Dhuvi ki kara do.”
“Excuse me? Why are you dragging me into this?” Dhuvi grumbled.
I turned to Maa again. “Papa kahan hain? Does he know about this? And he agreed?”
“Living room mein hain. Haan, unhe sab pata hai. Unhone haan bhi bol di.”
My blood pressure spiked.
I got off the bed, stormed out, and screamed,
“PAPA… PAPA… PAPA!”
“Stop shouting, Mayra!” Maa called out, hurrying behind me with Dhuvi in tow.
“Kya hua meri guddiya ko?” Papa looked up and opened his arms for a hug, like always.
“Papa, aapko pata hai ye ladke wale waale scene ke baare mein?”
He nodded, making my frown deepen. Where was this coming from?
“Bas dekhne aa rahe hain abhi. Kuch fix nahi hua.”
“I don’t care! I want to build my life. Not get trapped in a shaadi bubble. Let me focus on college — on my rank, on my future.”
“Haan toh karo. Kaun mana kar raha hain? Par agar shaadi ho gayi toh tumhe tumhare pati ka support milega. And he’s the son of our new collaborator. I know him, and I can tell you—his son’s a good guy.”
"Papa… Maa… do what you want. But yaad rakhna — I’m not interested.”
And I walked back to my room, slammed the door like every dramatic heroine is legally required to, knowing there was no point in arguing any further.
*FLASHBACK ENDS*
So yeah. That’s why I’m escaping at 6 AM like a runaway bride who’s not even engaged yet.
“Diu, bas ladke wale dekhne aa rahe hain. Shaadi thodi ho rahi hai jo bhaag rahi ho,” Dhuvi said, trying to make sense of my drama.
“Haan toh! I don’t care. Aur waise bhi, aaj college ka function hai, and I can’t miss it. Agar roz ki tarah uth kar jaane ka socha toh Maa definitely nahi jaane dengi. Isiliye abhi jaa rahi hoon. Tum bhi aa jaana. Waise bhi tumhe thodi na dekhne aa rahe hain. Warna tumhe bhi saath le jaati,” I replied with a toothy grin.
“Toh function zyada important hai?”
“Zyada nahi, sabse zyada. Rank bhi usi se judha hai.”
“Diu, par... balcony se? Seriously?”
I turned and smirked. “Don’t worry, baby sis. Did you forget? This isn’t the first time I’m jumping from the balcony. Tum bas Maa-Papa ko sambhaal lena.”
“Diu, dhyaan se!”
“Haan haan, Chill maar.”
And with that, I swung one leg over the railing, gripped the pipe, and slid down like a pro.
Dekha? Yeh toh mere baaye haath ka kaam tha.
────❤︎☾────────❤︎☾────
✨ So… did you just scream “Diu, seriously?!” 😤💭
Mayra’s drama or Dhuvi’s sass — what made you smile more?
💬 Drop your thoughts, show some love 💖
📸 Insta: @author._.hiya
🎯 Goal: 5+ likes & your fav moment in the comments!
See you in the next chaos-filled escape!
— Hiyyaa 🩷
Write a comment ...