The symbol of love for lighting and thunder was rain. The symbol of love for night and the moon was the moonlight. The symbol of love for darkness and sleepers was dreams.

Shahana was an avid and lucid dreamer. Dreamers spun poetry into their reality so that it could hopefully become part of their own. They aren't inspired by rainbows, they are rainbows that hold the power to unite the estranged because the raindrops at the end become a reason to smile. Her imagination ranged from unicorns, open fields, happy children, family, love, and old memories.

The laughter of those children- Prachi, herself and another silhouette- are frequencies only her dwindled inhibition was allowed to hear. She sees them running around the playground, branches cracking under their feet and hair swaying with the gentle breeze of autumn as their parents- her parents, alive, colour restored to their features, eyes twinkling brightly- giggled along with them, standing close by to catch them if they fell.

And sometimes, when the demons got too loud, she dreamt about death, accidents and loss. Come morning, when the sun waves at her as a greeting, the children fade like ghosts and become the living. Her inhibitions draw her and her heart yearns to be free, to go to the playground and to remind herself that she is still loved.

But today, she was only a reader. Forgotten was the need to sleep and escape her life left in shambles in her pursuit to learn and discover every bit of Kiara Mehra's past and who Pragya's first daughter was. She had found the worn and wrinkled book in Kiara's closet when she attempted to dump her clothes into the cupboard.

Kiara was one brave child as she understood from her various adventures in London where she lived until the age of seven and Delhi where she mercilessly lost her young life.

But what caught her attention was the child's description of Abhishek, her dada, as she so fondly referred to him in her diary entries. He was sweet, caring and compassionate. None of these characteristics embodied the Abhishek Prem Mehra she now knew and loathed. He was egoistic, pretentious and a neglectful father. Her confusion only grew as she read on, trying to find pieces of what Kiara mentioned in her current reality.

How could a man as charming as this become so cold and distant? Kiara would have been so disappointed in him now.

She assumed his daughter's death changed his perspective on life. Even then he has two other children. Shahana scoffed to herself; as if that mattered. He was the cause of the death of his own daughter, the one who she was now essaying the role of.

"Kiara!" A shout from outside her door sounded but she was too invested in the life of the eldest Mehra daughter to realise.

The door burst open and Pragya shouted once again. "Good morning, Kishmish." With the voice much clearer and louder, she flinched and stared at her aunt, frozen like a robber caught in broad daylight. The only crime she had committed was robbing the identity of Pragya's oldest child. But she herself had been robbed of her actual name and recognition every time she looked into the mirror.

Shit, Massi! She slammed the book shut and slid it under the pillow like a slapdash performance of a miming artist.

Pragya raised an eyebrow at her odd behaviour. "What are you hiding?" she questioned sternly, with a hand resting on her hip.

"No-nothing," Shahana stammered, avoiding Pragya's gaze. "Just reading a book."

"Really?" Pragya was almost sure Kiara was lying through her teeth. "And what is the name of this interesting book that kept you up all night?"

Shahana chanced a glance at the clock. She didn't realise how the night had passed as she worked to decipher the seven-year-old's scrawly handwriting.

The clock showed eight in the morning and Shahana let her jaw slacken as her eyes grew teary. Pragya was intuitive that much she knew. She was always tuned in to Prachi and Shahana's needs, wants, interests and abilities. It was a relief to know that that applied even when she couldn't remember who the girl in front of her really was. Her massi knew that she hadn't slept the night before with just one look. Maybe it was a bit of an overkill but she was tired and upset. It's forgivable.

Still, she asked because she had to know if it was worth it to have hope, however small it was. "How...how did you know that I hadn't slept the whole night?"

Pragya chuckled and came closer to the bed. She took a seat beside her presumed daughter and shook her head. "Because I am a mother and I've raised you," she smirked- so true yet so hollow.

Shahana felt the head on her shoulders becoming heavier to hold up but she held it up anyway. Something pricked at her eyes, salty and hot. She held eye contact with Pragya as long as the latter allowed. She held herself together for her sake even if it was taking a never-ending supply of water to put out the small fire in her heart.

"You are up early. Is there something you wanted?'' She changed the topic hoping for some sort of distraction from her self-destructive thoughts.

"Yep," the amnesic mother nodded and stood up, planting a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. She made her way to the closet. "I was here to wake you up for breakfast. But you are already up so go get ready and I'll see you downstairs." she pulled out Shahana's towel and left it on the bathroom door handle.

Shahana threw the blanket off her as Pragya left the room. She took out the diary and thought of a secure place to hide it. Kiara's room was still a maze she hadn't learned the turns of. She whipped around several times before finally settling her eyes on the top shelf of the study desk.

"I swear being short is such a pain." She groaned while attempting to shove the book onto the shelf. When she was finally done, she heaved a sigh of relief at the effort it took before realising that in a couple of minutes, she would be a participant in the most awkward breakfast in her life. "Is it too late to pretend to be asleep?"

People say when a lie is spoken, trust is broken. That in itself is a lie. When a lie is spoken, trust is tangled- a rope forming uncountable knots until it starts to strangle one. To that tangle, another knot is added, too late to untie it.

There's a weight on her shoulders that just doesn't seem to get lighter- a burden that was never hers, to begin with.

---Fading In The Sun---

The wind is an element of nature. It dances to its own rhythm. It makes people twirl to its preferred beats. It changes the melody as and when it pleases.

The wind is the language of scavengers. They can decipher the codes of its pulse. They can find the warmth from the cold raindrops leading them astray. They can discover the path to traverse with a nudge from it in a certain direction.

Or perhaps, the wind is the element of surprise. It's a chaotic tidal wave, swooshing in and out of the body that gave it shelter to stay in. The dalliance of it brings serenity until it gains momentum to knock a sailboat of course- disguised like its companion and cheerleader.

The Asian koel, infamously known as the Uwu bird, was a majestic-looking creature. Sleek black or royal brown coated its anatomy with systematically painted white spots. With a voice to challenge its minuscule form, it shrieked in a shrill high pitched scream.

Riya stirred as the sun peeked through the translucent blinds and the bird's ear-piercing voice reached her ears. Her face twitched in annoyance at that bird's incessant mating call. Despite the wake-up call, for a moment in her fogged mind, everything felt warm, comfortable and safe. The fear, grief and pain walked through fire and all that was left behind is the bits of ashes, swayed by the call of winds, echoes of a forgotten childhood locked in a dark corner of her mind.

She wanted nothing more than to sink further into her mattress- a desire shortlived as she heard her estranged mother's muffled call from the door outside. Her eyes couldn't betray the urge to roll themselves behind her closed eyelids. A silent contemplation later, she decided begrudgingly that it was better to just listen rather than have to interact with her early in the morning.

She tried to stretch but found her limbs restricted, almost as if they were caged by something. She blinked and opened her brown eyes and they immediately widened, akin to a comical character of a children's comedy.

Riya has woken up in a lot of strange positions before with her body twisted in shapes that some might call physically impossible. She had even found herself under the bed come morning or at least half her body hanging off the edge of the bed frame.

But never in her life had she imagined waking up in her long-lost twin's protective hold. Her own arms were clutching on tightly to her sister's pyjama shirt. She stared for a second, completely still and unmoving as the confusion turned her brain to mush. The image got lost in translation to her brain and her muscles didn't know what it meant to move.

There's a perfectly logical explanation for this, she rationalised. Through the maze of truncated memories, she tried to pinpoint the one leading to this very occurrence. She drew a blank.

You know what? I am dreaming. Yes. wakey wakey, time is crazy. She waited, breath held back in her throat and limbs slack. I know I am dreaming so why aren't I waking up? Come on you stupid brain, wake up!

After several heartbeats had passed between them, Riya discerned that this was indeed not a dream. "What the fuck!" She flung her arms out wide to break out of Prachi's grasp, miraculously not tearing the piece of fabric she was gripping onto for dear life. She scrambled backwards, misinterpreting the length of the bed and tumbling down onto the floor. Not allowing the hard landing to still her rampage, she jumped to her feet and a glare set in place.

With her body rudely rattled from a slumbering position, the older twin awoke with a jolt. In her state of panic, she grabbed the nightlight on the bedside table, whirling her head around frantically to locate the intruder. "What! Where...where is the uninvited intruder!"

"I am looking at her right now." Riya snarled. "She invaded my personal space! I want justice!"

Prachi stared at her sister dumbly before her words started to make sense. "Wha..." she trailed off, utterly confused by Riya's outrageous accusations. "What drug are you on early in the morning, Riya Mehra?" she grumbled placing the nightlight back on its place and slumping beneath the covers, trying to reclaim whatever sleep she had lucked out on. "Are the ones you took last night still on your system?"

"No!" Riya snapped before relaxing her shoulders, too little too slow for the sleeping hobbit to realise. She glanced down at herself, trying to ascertain that the words she said were true. "I think. But that's not the point! How and why are you in my bed, now don't tell me you sleepwalk!"

"I know you are out of whack but it is entirely too early to deal with your ludicrous escapades right now, can we reschedule this fight for after breakfast?" Prachi said half comprehending what Riya was going on about as she pulled the blanket over her head and ignored all the indistinguishable ramblings of Riya even paying no mind to what she assumed was a pillow hitting her back, as Riya walked off to the bathroom, after not receiving the response she had wanted.

"...Revenge will be mine!" was the tail end of her mumblings that the tired girl caught before Riya was out of earshot again.

"Weirdo," she grumbled after the affronted girl was gone, drifting back to her peaceful dreams.

---Fading In The Sun—

Tare Zameen Par was one of her favourite movies as a child. She didn't fully comprehend the meaning and message of it until she was much older but at that age, she adored the protagonist. Ishaan. A misunderstood, gifted, smart and lovable child that was trying his best but couldn't save himself from the grating treatment of his father that refused to accept any other reason for his son's lack of academic excellence other than laziness. He didn't understand his learning difficulty- dyslexia.

She could relate to him. Maybe because her father was the same- strict, absent and indifferent to her needs. Her cousins were overachievers while she did the bare minimum to scrape through her exams.

Perhaps that is why now she could feel the anguish Ishaan felt when his parents left him at the boarding school as he watched the car drive away and out of sight- gone with his hope of ever receiving the kind of love he craved. He felt that fear of being left alone in a place completely unknown to him with no one to rely on- no one to find when she was losing herself in the whirlwind of arbitrary lies and truths.

"Help. Please help us!"

She scrambled to get to her feet as an instant wave of intolerable pain ripped through her small body, coughing a red substance out. The smell of petrol mixed with soot and blood made her nausea worse.

There are screeching sirens wailing in the distance as if the air raid siren was sounded - close but too late.

"...too much blood lost...they won't survive the trip."

Silhouettes of creatures of the place some called heaven danced in her line of sight. They drew closer, feeble in an attempt to scare her but the little girl couldn't contain her scream.

Like a mean teacher, looking for someone to make their scapegoat, they prowled, calculating and deciding. Riya gulped, and the fear that almost unmanned her flowed into her system. She matched their challenge with her own stare, but her eyes reflected the thunder residing in her.

The waves crashed and dragged her back to sea with them as her nail created lines in the sand when she tried to hook them onto something- hoping she was strong enough to protect herself from the unknown waters. There was no coming back from those, her ten-year-old self knew that much. Once her head was underwater, she would watch the air bubbles float to the surface and pop, each counting the moments to her death.

The first time she truly understood what raw terror was when she saw the last bubble pop- slipping into the cracks of a broken fate.

Her limbs shot out frantically as Riya kicked at the ghosts around her unaware of currently being stuck in a nightmare playing on a loop. She lifted her chest up and one of her legs shot up, pulling the covers up, causing a cold gust of air to make it feel like they just sat in a bathtub full of ice.

That wasn't possible.

The fire grew around her, hot and scalding. The sweat trickled down her spine causing goosebumps. It danced as if proud of being the only visible force emerging from the wreckage of vehicles. The leaking engine fueled it continuously, nourishing the persona of a murderer.

"Buji?"

"It's okay, sweetheart. You are going to be okay."

"You are going to be okay too."

"I will live with you till the very last moment our creator bestows me. But when I am gone, know that I am in the arms of an angel, watching over you, every step of the way. We will meet again."

She couldn't understand. The child clinging onto her fraternal aunt who was slowly slipping away didn't know what death meant. She would be left craving for cuddles, a rocking sensation of being carried around by her caregiver. The outcome would be being left ignored as her father grieved and sheltered himself even more until a new confidant arrived.

Ishaan couldn't have borne losing the one person who made him feel worth it and Riya knew why.

Her vision blurred until she saw something or rather lacked seeing anything. The absolute absence of light deprived her of her senses; her mind lost track of where her extremities were, and her blood-soaked hands lay limp by her sides. Most night skies were the darkest of greys, but this one was pure black as if the stars and moon were slaves of a flip switch that never happened.

She stumbled into a pocket of density and for the first time ever, understood the essence of darkness; it was crouched, a breathing terror delighting itself at devouring every last particle of luminosity. This monster would continue swallowing every bit of it as she lived on.

The darkness felt heavy, oppressive, almost supernatural. She soon found herself swallowed up in nothingness.

Riya's body was drenched with cold sweat. The room was silent except for her screams for assistance. An uncontrolled limp slammed into the body next to her causing another sudden gasp to accompany her pleas.

Prachi jerked up to a sitting position in bed and scanned the room in a frantic haze looking for the source of the chilling shriek and berserk strike.

Riya rolled onto her side and fought for breath because her lungs had forgotten to breathe, taking in only a sporadic rasp. She jerked around dangerously, mostly thrashing around like she was going down a hill or steep roller coaster that didn't have a start or end point- just continuously falling, sinking further into her headspace.

She was about to die.

She was dying.

All over again.

Prachi felt like the room she was occupying was a place she has never been in before. Monmentalry, she had lost recollection of who she was in her waking life. Her eyes landed on Riya who was on her side with her back towards Prachi, whimpering in low histones.

Prachi rolled her eyes, thinking this was just another way to irritate her. "Riya, cut it out," she warned. She swatted her sister lightly, annoyed at being woken up in an already uncomfortable environment that made it near impossible for her to fall asleep for a long while after the lights had been turned off. But it didn't affect the girl trapped in her own mind if her continuous pleas were anything to go by. "seriously, Riya. I want to sleep."

The older twin felt a little concern ripple through her when Riya did not respond and pulled the blanket around her tighter. How is she still doing it? She stood up to examine the other side of the room where Riya was facing. She squatted beside her and flicked on the main switch of their room.

She is crying, Prachi realised as the light shone on her face but didn't understand the overwhelming grief Riya felt and couldn't explain.

Prachi stared blankly at the girl, unsure of what to do. Prachi couldn't remember if she ever had a nightmare like that or if she did, what the aftermath was. Shahana didn't have nightmares either growing up, even after her parent's death. She channelled her loss into becoming a protective sister and daughter.

The question remains, what am I supposed to do? Wake her up. Oh wait, waking someone up from a nightmare is bad and it eventually passes. Right? She recalled once reading an article about nightmares. Waking a person up from one could result in them becoming upset and confused. In their state of panic, they could possibly react violently injuring both parties.

Maybe I should get Meera or Mr. Mehra?

Just as she was about to get up, Riya let out a strangled broken sob, "S-stay. Please do-don't leave m-me."

Prachi sat back down, an uneasy knot forming in the pit of her tummy as she watched Riya abandon her blanket and thrash around, seemingly reaching out for something. She instantly grabbed onto Riya's suspended hand and interlaced their fingers.

"I'll fin-finish my homework a-a-and be go-od." Riya pleaded in her sleep, more sweat pooling along her hairline.

what?

Another violent jerk from Riya was enough to set Prachi into motion. "Okay you got this," Prachi whispered to herself. Starting off by using her free hand to hesitantly stroke Riya's tresses, each caress becomes more certain, determined to nurse the wounded.

"Shhh, Riya. No one is going anywhere."

Riya can not hear her and instead continues to whine and flail around uncontrollably. "Riya, please listen to me,'' Prachi begged, at this point desperate to do anything to lessen her anguish. She squeezed the hand in her grip hoping to provide some relief. "Our family is back together. You, me, Shahana, Mom...and D-dad. We are together."

Nothing about that statement rang true other than the sheer tangibility of it but Prachi was ready to try anything. The continuous brushing of her hand and words managed to calm the nightmare-subjugated girl enough for Prachi to move onto the bed without the fear of getting punched in the face.

"We are together. It's not going to change."

In time to come, it will because this isn't real.

Prachi brought their intertwined hands to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her sister's hand. Perhaps that was reassurance enough as her cries quietened down and she was no longer trying to fight a war with the air.

The older of two wanted to make sure that Riya was no longer as panic-stricken as she was before. Since she couldn't hear her, Prachi decided to establish as much physical contact as possible knowing that it was probably the best thing she could do.

Gently, unwinding their finger she moved back to her side of the bed and pulled her into her warm embrace. Prachi wanted to let go of her sister once she went back to a nightmare-free sleep. But her need to stay under the covers and protect her from the evil of the night overpowered her stubborn anger at the younger girl.

She readjusted their position slowly so that Riya was securely tucked under her chin and she could stroke her hair comfortably. She turned slightly to turn off the lights and pulled the blanket over them.

The darkness Riya had found herself in earlier on faded a little until she could finally see the stars and moon gleaming back at her- almost as if they had somehow found their way back to each other in the labyrinth.

---Fading in the sun---

Riya had sat at this table a million times before with her father and Meera. They weren't exactly a conventional family. The events that surrounded this table were in their own world, munching down on food, occasional business talks, and a stiff silence that could be sliced like a hot knife against butter.

That was after Disha and Purab had left the country. They were a relatively functional and happy family before that.

"Change is on the horizon and in its own way, it is telling you to be patient." her aunt, Disha, had said before she left as she held Riya for the last time.

"Riya, slow down. You're going to choke. Sunny, put the book away and eat your breakfast. Aryan, how many times have I told you to wash your hands before eating?" Disha chided the three children at the breakfast table with a shake of her head.

"Yes Aryan, you don't want the naughty germs to make a home in your tummy now do you." Purab, Aryan's charismatic father teased his youngest son.

Aryan let the spoon in his hand clatter to the plate with his mouth hanging ajar. He wryly eyed his stomach, taking a beat to bolt to the nearest restroom in the hall to wash his hands, scrubbing away thoroughly.

"Aryan is a dodo head." Riya mumbled around her mouthful of cereal.

"Riya, that's not very nice," Alia, her fraternal aunt reminded her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"But it's true," the nine-year-old stated adamantly. "Germs can not make a house in our tummies. There don't have hands or blocks."

The adults stifled their laughter as Aryan returned with a grumpy face which told them he heard Riya's logical reasoning. It's a wonder how easy and tough fooling nine-year-olds could be; Aryan and Riya being prime examples respectively.

"You are a mean dolphin!" The young boy shot back with arms crossed in front of him.

"Dolphins are one of the smartest sea creatures,'' Riya smirked with a tilt of her head. "You'd know that if you paid attention in class more often instead of daydreaming about elves dancing around the bonfire."

A loud thud halted their argument, jostling the adults around, those who were paying attention at least. Abhishek didn't budge from his head hunched over reading something on his phone.

Sunny huffed in annoyance at the younger children before him. "It's so hard to read in peace in this house."

Riya and Aryan exchanged a quick glance. As if having read each other's minds, they turned to the oldest child. "Nerd!" they retorted and took off on their feet to the room closet to seek refuge.

"Catch us if you can fire-breathing chicken," Aryan called out to his brother just as they shut the door of the bathroom in his face.

Riya let the smile she was holding back slip- a smile that finally reached her eyes since the accident that didn't go unnoticed by Meera. These were the memories that kept her grounded whenever it got too hard to sit in this chair and watch the ones opposite her be occupied by her biological one instead of her extended family. They used to be empty- cold, stationary and incomplete. But even when they are being used, she couldn't seem to find the same sense of satisfaction that once soothed her tired self.

The silence between her father, Meera and herself was something she was accustomed to. She had dealt with it every morning and used those quiet moments to spend time in her head, replaying the days she was happy. This lack of conversation that surrounded them, however, had her continuously shifting about in her seat.

Prachi has always wished for her very own big picture perfect family- a big dining table, all chairs in use, laughter, chatter and satisfaction on everybody's Faces. With her complete biological family sitting at the table for the first time, she finds that none of her wishes was substantial, to begin with. There was a big dining table but not all chairs were occupied, there wasn't any semblance of laughter, chatter or satisfaction. instead, the air was filled with tension and awkwardness. She stirred the food around on her plate, unable to really digest anything.

Shahana narrowed her gaze at the former rockstar from her seat, resting her chin on her palm. Tall, proud and arrogant were the words used to describe the man. The description was drastically different to the father- Dada - Kiara had spoken about in her diary.

Dada is such a gentleman. Always looking after mumma like a queen. Why shouldn't he? She is a queen and deserves to be treated like one.

Amidst her staring session, she caught Meera's eye from across the table. The woman with that gracious smile gave her a slight nod. A rosy tint coloured Shahana's cheeks and she dropped her gaze back to her plate.

The three teenagers had made it appoint to avoid seating directly face to face with each other in case of unintentional eye contact. It was bad enough that they had to put up with this pretence. They didn't need unwanted attention or glances to make it harder.

"Suniye," Pragya said sternly, gaining the attention of all the participants of the gathering. "Put your phone away."

I guess some things never change, Riya rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered what life would be like without the intervention of technology. A shudder went down her spine at the mere imagination of people still living in caves and hunting down animals to eat. And there goes my appetite, she sighed. Although, it would save me the trouble of needing to back up my data. Aryan is gonna be pissed.

Abhishek obliged instantly, stuffing his electronic device back into his jean pocket. The three presumed daughters of his and Meera gawked at him. He was a stubborn man. He didn't bow down and listen to anyone without a fuss as he did with Pragya. Abhishek seemed to have noticed their staring too because he kept his sights at the plate informed of him.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the cereal box in front of him, passing it to Prachi and Shahana as they were sitting closest to him. "Have some fruit loops, girls."

The two in question, frowned at the sugary treat and hid their gag.

Pragya winced a little as a sharp sensation seared through her head. She held her forehead a little as a haze of blurry images swept through her. Voices so distant but clear and recognisable.

"Breakfast is ready, girls," a thirty-five-year-old Pragya called her daughters to the dining table as she laid their plates out. A slice of bread laden with butter on each as two children came out of the room skipping away or rather one dragging the other.

"Good morning, Mom!" The younger of the two greeted enthusiastically.

The other one who looked like she was slightly older, seemed a little more gruff. "Morning," she whispered as if she didn't want it to be heard.

"Good morning, sweet pea. Good morning, Shona." she greeted the two with a kiss on their heads even as Shahana cringed at the nickname. "I made your favourite."

"Mom, it would only be considered making if you actually did more than just spreading butter." Prachi, the young seven-year-old pointed out. She munched on her slice of bread, sending Pragya a cheeky smile as she did.

"Really now? should I start giving you both cereal every morning?" She asked with a smirk at the horror-stricken faces of her children.

"Nope, this is fine and we appreciate all the hard work you put into making these slices of bread.'' Prachi corrected herself, biting down ferociously.

Pragya shook her head and continued drinking her black coffee, something her children despised even more than cereal.

Her house came back into focus and the pounding in her head stopped. As if entranced by the memory, she spoke softly and lovingly. "They don't like cereal. Only bread and butter." She may not have seen their faces but she knows, it was the kids whom she raised.

Prachi and Shahana found themselves staring at Pragya, unfallen tears pricking their eyes. They were so tired of crying but every time Pragya recalled a tiny bit of them, it brought these damned tears. They quickly averted their stares to avoid Pragya's questions.

Pragya on her part, felt oddly confused as she didn't know what Riya preferred to have for breakfast or why she wasn't in her memory. She looked at the bowl in front of her Riya. Cereal.

Riya didn't bother looking up from her bowl nor could she find it in herself to care. The resentment besieged her and she decreed it to go away. Like everything else in her life, it did the exact opposite of what she wanted- grow. She was forgotten a long time ago- Just eight days after she was born and never remembered ever again, even when the last twenty years were meant to be erased. If only I could erase them too.

Abhishek kept the box down from where he picked it up, shame burning through him. He had missed all of Prachi's childhood. I don't even know the basic thing about what she likes for breakfast.

He silently thanked the staff member and Riya's appointed chaperone, Chandu, who had arrived at the table, saving him the embarrassment of looking at the four ladies.

"Riya didi, your new phone," he said handing the device over to her.

Riya gave him a thankful smile and inspected the device for any malformations or blemishes. "Thanks, Chandu. I thought I sent someone else to pick it up though."

"You did but he had to attend to something else. I didn't have anything to do so I went to get it instead." The newly appointed chaperon beamed, happy to be of use to someone.

"I see," she nodded. "Have you had breakfast?"

He shook his head with a shrug. "I don't eat breakfast."

"Well, that's about to change. Meera Aunty says breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Right, Aunty?" Riya turned to the person in question who nodded affirmatively.

Pragya flared her nostrils and jabbed her fork into the omelette. If Meera had taught her about breakfast, what did I teach her? In the instant she attempted to strain her mind, her answer came in the form of a headache.

Chandu stared around the table, unsure of his place in the new house. The remaining occupants, save for Riya and Meera, looked just as uncertain. There wasn't any point in arguing with Riya. Knowing her, she'd just refuse to let him leave the house if he so much so as thought about it. "No use banging my head against a wall." He sat down on an empty chair beside Meera and smiled stiffly.

Riya rolled her eyes fondly, pushing the plate towards him. "I see your last two brain cells are still working."

"So," Abhishek started, interrupting Chandu's retort. "What happened to your phone this time? A monkey stole it or did it drop in the toilet bowl again?" He asked hoping a small talk would quell the thick presence in the air.

"Prachi threw it across the hospital corridor last week." Riya deadpanned, devouring her fruit loops. A little distraction from her caveman thoughts Was enough for her appetite to return. She was never one for fasting anyway.

All eyes turned to Prachi and she choked on the water she was drinking while Shahana rubbed her back. Crap, I forgot about that.

"Why?" Pragya asked exasperated. She briefly wondered what values she had instilled in them and how she raised her children. She only raised two of them, the other two were either dead or left behind. Alas, she didn't know.

"'I..." Prachi scratched her forehead with a sheepish grin. "I was angry?" She offered, meekly.

Abhishek snickered to himself softly but Prachi heard him given that they were sitting adjacent to each other, "We are more alike than I thought."

"No, Mr Mehra, I don't abandon my family at the first sign of trouble." She whispered back and he clenched his jaw, shifting his sights to Pragya.

"So you threw her phone across the corridor," Pragya stated and wore a horrified expression at the act of her middle child.

Riya chose that moment to jump in. She quite liked getting under her sister's skin and pressing her buttons. It was amusing to watch her eyebrows thick and jaw clench. "Correction, she threw it at innocent bystanders who barely had time to save their necks from getting snapped off."

"I did not." The accused protested with a glare.

"Yea you did," Riya retorted, "They ran away to avoid getting something else thrown by you. And people say I'm unhinged." She added with a roll of her eyes.

Prachi pointed a finger at her twin in irritation. "That's because you started screaming your head off for no reason, can't drive like a responsible road user, and don't know the difference between a house and a jail cell."

"That's it," Riya pushed the chair beneath her and stood up. She swung her jacket over her shoulder, nearly taking out Abhishek's eye in the midst. "I m not going to sit here and listen to you accuse me of things I clearly did." She stop halfway across the room and turned to face the table. "Midget!" She spun on her heels and left the house.

Prachi sucked in a deep breath. "Get back here you overgrown troll, I m not done with you!" She shouted, following suit with Chandu hot on their trail and a piece of bread hanging from the corner of his mouth.

While Abhishek adored the sibling rivalry and swiftly wiped his teary eyes, Pragya shook her head in slight confusion, wondering what the dynamics between her twins were. She turned to her oldest child. "Aren't you going to work, Kishmish?"

Kishmish, as she discovered from the diary was the name Pragya had endearing given Kiara. Oh, what I would give to hear you call me Shona again. Shahana had always put on a show of hating that sobriquet but she secretly loved it.

Shahana thickly swallowed her last bite and got to her feet nervously. "Yes, M-mom. Of course, I am going to work, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you are dressed like a three times failed college student." Pragya points to her casual wear.

"This? You see, there is a- umm- a there's just a... fancy dress competition at work." Shahana said as confidently as she could with the most illogical excuse that she had blurted.

Pragya scrunched her face in utter confusion. She raised her hand to touch Kiara's forehead. "Darling, are you okay? Since when do multimillion-dollar companies organize fancy dress competitions in their place of work."

"It's...for an event. We are having a kids' charity event so yeah. Everyone is dressing up. Even su-superman is.'' Shahana threw in, leaving the busy man with his mouth hanging agape. She assumed it was because of her derpy excuse. "Dad," she stressed the word, subtly nudging her head in his wife's direction. "Why aren't you ready for the competition? We are going to be late so I'll wait for you in the car." She took off towards the gate before either had the time to react.

Abhishek nodded absentmindedly, heading to his room. Superman. The word lingered in his thoughts as he reached his wardrobe to pull out something that would match Shahana's choice of deviation. I haven't heard that in a long while. While sifting through the piles of unkempt clothing, he found an old scarf- the one Kiara wore right before her disappearance. I am sorry. Superman failed. He failed all of you.

At the front gate of the prestigious Mehra mansion, Meera called out to her foster daughter. She had hidden her own chuckle as she followed the twins out of the house.

Riya paused and gestured for Chandu and Prachi to get into the car while she spoke to Meera. "Yes, Aunty."

"What was that about?"

"A failed attempt at recreating the breakfast club?" Riya guessed.

"No,'' Meera grinned at her favourite nineties film. "I meant the tiny little smile. I haven't seen you that happy in a while." she pinched her cheek lovingly.

"Sometimes passing clouds are prettier than the rain," Riya said, leaving the older woman confused about her cryptic quote. "I am getting late for school. I'll see you later. Bye, Aunty." She gave her a quick hug and sat in the car.

The Greek warriors had meticulously crafted a wooden horse as a peace offering and left it at the gates of the city of Troy. Call them fools for trusting so easily, but they accepted the gift of deception. Little did they know it was going to mark the end of the long siege- at the cost of uncountable lives. The hidden warriors snuck out in the disguise of the dark and only the moon was left to bear witness to the atrocities of the greek.

In modern times, trojan groups are rising with the same idealogy. Abhishek and Pragya watched as the car left the mansion- away from a citadel of flight of fancy. The first of this charade and it was already starting to show its cracks. From the cracks, what will emerge to commit genocide is yet to be seen- it's an inherited sin.

---Fading in the sun---

To Pragya, this felt odd- new and unpracticed- as if it was the first time she had done it. Logically, she knew it wasn't. She had probably done this a thousand times over with how her hands moved in sync with her thoughts- wave the children and her husband goodbye, close the door and start clearing the breakfast table. Yet, the clinks of utensils rub her the wrong way and the plates feel disproportionate in her hands that were calloused from forgotten laborious work over the years.

The spoon drops from her hand and onto the table when she hears the doorbell. With the children at school, Abhishek at work, and Meera running errands, she is the only one left to tend to the person at the door. She briefly wonders who it may be. A neighbour? An acquaintance? A friend? An uneasy burn settles in her chest. She wouldn't be able to greet whoever that was with the same warmth and familiarity they expected.

Fingers brushing across the door handle before becoming a sure grip, she heaves a deep breath. It can't be that bad. This is temporary. Who knows? It could be one of the kids who forgot something. With that hope in her mind, she pulled the large doors open. To her dismay, it wasn't them.

Clad in a black tee, leather jacket and skinny jeans stood a boy, twirling a pair of what she assumed were bike keys in his hand. Noticing the person at the door, he deposited the keys in his pocket and gave her a little charming wave. "Hey there, pretty lady!" He prattled cheerily. Dark brown eyes twinkling with familiar mischief stared back at her. The well-trimmed and maintained subtle made him look around the same age as her twins.

She wipes the frown off her face and settles it into a polite smile. She didn't know him, but maybe he knew her. "Hello, can I help you?" she asks cautiously, the boy was still a stranger to her.

He nodded, the casual stance he adopted still in place as he leaned against the doorframe. "You can start by telling me who you are and what you're doing here."

So he doesn't know me, she frowned. "Wha...well seeing as I live here, I should be asking you that question instead. Who are you, young man?"

There was a slight frown on his head but he stood straighter on his heels, shoulders squared as if giving a formal introduction. "Aryan Khanna."

Don't forget to R&R!