Three Days Earlier...
Morning sunlight filtered through the thin white curtains of the small apartment, painting golden streaks across the wooden floor.
The aroma of freshly brewed tea drifted through the quiet home.
It was a home that had never been grand.
No marble staircases.
No crystal chandeliers.
No luxurious halls.
Yet, to Amaira...
It had always been enough.
Because every corner held one thing no palace ever could.
Her mother.
The alarm buzzed softly at 5:30 a.m.
Before it could ring again, a slender hand reached out and switched it off.
Amaira Kapoor sat up slowly, her long jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back like silk.
For a few seconds...
She simply stared at the ceiling.
Another day.
Another beginning.
Another chance to make sure her mother smiled.
She slipped out of bed without making a sound.
The apartment remained peacefully quiet.
Just the way she liked it.
The first thing she did every morning wasn't checking her phone.
It wasn't looking at social media.
It wasn't even opening her books.
She walked straight to the kitchen.
The kettle was already on the stove.
She smiled faintly.
"Maa..."
"You woke up again."
A soft laugh echoed from the kitchen.
"And you were supposed to sleep for another twenty minutes."
Amaira entered.
Naina Kapoor stood by the stove in a simple cotton saree, humming an old song while preparing breakfast.
She looked tired.
Far more tired than she admitted.
Dark circles hid beneath her gentle eyes.
Her hands trembled almost invisibly as she stirred the tea.
Amaira noticed.
She always noticed.
She simply never pointed it out.
Because she knew the answer already.
"I'm fine."
It was the lie her mother repeated every day.
And Amaira had become equally good at pretending to believe it.
"Sit."
"I'll finish."
Naina shook her head.
"You have college."
"And you have work."
Amaira smiled.
"Then we'll both finish faster if we work together."
Her mother laughed.
"You've always been impossible."
"So I've been told."
Within minutes...
Breakfast was ready.
One prepared the parathas.
The other packed lunch.
No unnecessary words.
No loud conversations.
Just comfortable silence.
The kind only two people who truly understood each other could share.
As they sat together at the small dining table...
Naina quietly looked at her daughter.
Long black hair.
Crystal-blue eyes.
Soft dimples.
The exact eyes...
She had inherited from the man Naina wished she had never loved.
Yet somehow...
Whenever Naina looked at Amaira...
She never saw him.
She only saw hope.
"What?"
Amaira asked after noticing the stare.
Naina smiled.
"I'm looking at my greatest achievement."
Amaira sighed dramatically.
"Maa..."
"You say that every week."
"And I'll keep saying it."
She reached forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Amaira's ear.
"No matter how old you become."
"You'll always be my little girl."
Amaira looked away.
Not because she was embarrassed.
Because emotions always felt too heavy to carry in daylight.
After breakfast...
Amaira quietly washed the dishes before her mother could stop her.
She swept the floor.
Watered the plants.
Packed her bag.
Checked her mother's medicines.
Refilled the water bottles.
Laid out the afternoon meal.
Everything happened so naturally that Naina often forgot...
Her daughter was only eighteen.
Sometimes...
She behaved like the adult.
And Naina hated herself for it.
As Amaira adjusted her backpack, Naina called softly,
"Amaira."
She turned.
"Wear your blue cardigan."
"It might rain."
Amaira looked outside.
"The sky is clear."
"So?"
"You always catch a cold."
A tiny smile appeared on Amaira's face.
Without arguing...
She picked up the cardigan.
"Happy?"
Naina grinned.
"Very."
Neither of them knew...
This would be the last ordinary morning they would ever share.
A quiet thank you to everyone who supports my work โก Your kindness allows me to keep creating stories, moments, and worlds that mean so much to me. Every bit of support is deeply appreciated.
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