Hey Sugarplums...

Our Obsessions book is available on Kindle.

If you like my book, please show some love by providing a review on Amazon. This will help me in my growth, and maybe new people will find the book.

It's just a few minutes' effort, but it will motivate me to write more.

Hope, my plums will help me grow my book.

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𝐃𝐇𝐑𝐔𝐕

 I couldn’t comprehend why I had unleashed such hurtful words upon her. I agree; I hate her. I loathe her for the reason that she is so pure, unlike her father, who is a betrayer in distinction. However, the moment I saw tears shimmering in her beautiful sapphire eyes, reality crashed down on me like a tidal wave. I had never witnessed her cry since the day our paths first crossed, and now, as I stood there, the enormity of what I had done to that vibrant spirit began to haunt me as I remembered her teary eyes. 

In a desperate search for her, I cursed my mind to stop taking over my body. I finally spotted her sitting on a bench in that abandoned park, laughter spilling from her lips as she shared a moment with another man.

I recognized him the moment I saw him; even though I saw him from behind, I can never forget this person.

A rage surged through my veins, and my fists clenched involuntarily, aching to strike the face of the one who dared to flirt with her without knowing what she was to me.

But instead of confronting them, I retreated to the sanctuary of my home, a silent observer, waiting for her return. From my hidden vantage point by the gate, I could see the world outside while remaining unseen. 

When she finally returned, accompanied by that person, a tempest of anger boiled within me as I watched her carefree demeanor, so close to him, so intimate. 

Didn’t she go out sobbing just a few minutes ago, and how was she looking happy so soon? What was he to her that she could radiate such joy in his presence? How long did she know him? 

With this unexpected and even unexplainable jealousy gnawing at my insides, I found myself grappling with a troubling question: ‘Why do I care?’ I stepped inside, wrestling with the tumult of emotions that threatened to consume me, ignoring the urge to punch his face.

The following day, news of her job offer reached me, leaving me in a state of confusion about how to react. I maintained a facade of indifference, but inside, I was a storm of conflicting feelings. 

Esha didn’t approach me as she usually would, seeking my congratulations or sharing her excitement. Strange questions swirled in my mind like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind: ‘Why doesn’t she come to me to share the good news?’ ‘Did she decide to stop pursuing me and trying to ignore me?’ Did she, perhaps, confide in her parents about what I had said yesterday?”

I considered the last question but dismissed that possibility.  Had Esha shared my hurtful words with her parents, neither they nor my own parents would have been so calm. She was the apple of their eye, cherished and nurtured to the point where nothing seemed to faze her.

Just then, my eleven-year-old brother, Aaryan, bounded over to me, his innocent curiosity shining through. “Why don’t you congratulate my sister-in-law?” he asked, his eyes wide with expectation. 

Aaryan had started calling Esha ‘sister-in-law’ after learning from our parents that she was to be my future wife—a notion I had never fully embraced or agreed to.

I patted his head and lied, “I already congratulated her, Aaryan.”

“Oh, was it before I came? Because I didn’t see you talk to her,” he replied, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“Yes,” I fibbed again, watching as he scampered off with ‘Okay’ to play with her.

Esha had always adored children, and when Aaryan was born, her joy knew no bounds. She would spend countless hours entertaining him, her laughter ringing like music in the air.

Today, I noticed her climbing into a cab, and a realization dawned on me—she didn’t know how to drive. Usually, she would ask her driver, Mohan, to drive her if she needed something. 

Hiding my concerns deep within, I left for work, but upon my return, I found her house still locked. “Where could she have gone?” I pondered, a knot of worry tightening in my chest.

Usually, I don’t return home from the office every day. I would prefer to stay peacefully in my condo most of the day.

 To be frank, it’s not about peace. I simply don’t want to stay here and bother my parents when they have raised me for quite a few good years, even when they could have abandoned me. Yes, I am not their son by blood, but they never made me feel that fact; instead, they raised me with all affection since I was a child.

Just as I stepped through the gate, a cab pulled up, and Esha emerged, heading inside. “What could she have been doing all day?” I questioned myself, but I pushed those thoughts aside as I went home, freshened up, and settled into my study for a meeting.

As the CEO of my company, I was constantly juggling meetings across various time zones, my mind racing to keep pace. I quickly wrapped up my agenda and headed to bed, but sleep eluded me once more. 

‘Where had she gone all day?’... 

‘Is she meeting that boy again?

‘Is she hiding something from everyone?’ 

The thought jolted me upright in bed, unsettling my very core. I slipped out of bed and went downstairs for a glass of water.

As I closed the refrigerator door, my mother approached me, concern etched on her face, her eyes searching mine. “What’s going on between you two, Kanna?” Kanna is a nickname she gave me when I was a kid; it’s so common in India.

“Who two, Ma?” I feigned ignorance, my heart racing. I know who she was referring to, but I tried to brush the topic aside. 

“Who else? You and Esha!”

“Nothing, Ma,” I replied curtly, the word tasting bitter on my tongue, cutting down the talk to go any further.

“Then why is she acting so strangely around you? Ever since we arrived, she hasn’t had a day without talking to you. So, tell me what happened exactly.”

“Nothing, Ma. Maybe she’s just busy figuring out how to adapt to her new office life.” I paused, my mother, waiting patiently for any more words to slip out from me.

“It’s late, Ma. Go to sleep. Your health might deteriorate.” I said, my voice laced with emotion. With that, I turned away, feeling the weight of my mother’s disapproving gaze burning into my back.

I climbed into bed, yearning for the sweet embrace of sleep, but rest remained a distant dream, forever out of reach. My mind, a relentless tide, drifted back to that fateful day—the sharp words I had hurled, the pain etched on her face, and the tears that had glistened like shattered glass in her beautiful sapphire eyes. I uttered those words deliberately to hurt her and keep her away from me, and that is precisely what had happened. Then why should I bother about her hurt, her indifference, and why does her sobbing face appear before me as if in a dream?

Each memory from the past reverberated through my thoughts, a haunting echo that refused to fade, the relationship now precariously teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

***

We had just arrived at our new home in Kolshet. As I, in all my six years, stepped out of the car and made my way toward the gate, a sweet, melodic voice caught my attention.

“Hi!” she said, and I turned to see her, a 3-year-old girl. She was stunning, a perfect blend of cherry and peach blossoms. Her eyes sparkled with the mesmerizing shades of a deep blue sky, and her small pink lips curved into a sunny smile that could light up the entire galaxy. That was our first meeting.

A strange feeling welled up inside me now, thinking about that memory. Esha still seemed, even now, so innocent and naive, a vulnerability that made me worry about the harsh world outside that could easily consume her. Esha came from a loving family; her parents had a love marriage, or it seemed so, and in their eyes, their daughter was a treasure. 

Esha’s mother had reportedly suffered from uterine issues, preventing her from having more children. After that, the Sharmas opened an orphanage, embracing the children with the same love they showered upon Esha. 

Their family celebrated every festival and occasion with the children at the orphanage, transforming it into a vibrant world of colors, especially on Esha’s birthday and mine. I could understand their celebration of Esha, but mine was a mystery.

I never cared about that as I slipped the thought, assuming they just wanted to make everyone happy, or it was one more wish from Esha.

As I adjusted to my new lifestyle in this community, I found the school enjoyable, even though Esha attended the same one and often found ways to bother me. She had a knack for teasing, her laughter ringing in my ears like a playful yet strange melody.

I was not an outgoing person, but Ashish and Joshi were different from me. They were the kind of friends who could light up a room with their energy, and as time passed, I found myself drawn to their infectious enthusiasm. I made friends with them, and we shared a similar outlook on life, which helped me navigate through my growing years. 

We all ended up at the same university, where Ashish pursued interests in finance and media, Joshi was captivated by biology and went on to become a doctor, and I immersed myself in computers and technology. 

Despite our differing passions, we made it a point to hang out together regularly, enjoying each other’s company and navigating the challenges of school life as a united front.

Esha, too, found her place in our circle, and her vibrant personality added a unique dynamic to our group. She would often join us for lunch, and while I appreciated her energy, I couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance that accompanied her presence.

It was as if she had a radar for my discomfort, and she revelled in teasing me, her laughter ringing out like a challenge.

***

“Maa, I broke my promise to you. I hurt her. Sorry, Maa.” I mumbled and drifted into sleep.

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