"𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏"
☆.｡.:★.｡.:☆
"Why do you avoid meeting my eyes?" His voice came out as an inaudible whisper, hi...
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“ Whatever it is, it does matter ”
• ── • ── •
The last thing Mishka had expected in the early morning – when the bird's melodies wakes the world up – was an anonymous parcel lying comfortably in the mail box.
Vinay still hasn't come back from his three days emergency trip – at least that's what he has told her – he was coming back in three days which has extended and it's almost a week since he had gone. So, Swati has assisted Mishka to do the outside morning work that Vinay used to do. More like buying bread and milk, collecting the newspapers, checking the post box, watering the plants and sweeping the back garden. She's not forced to do these chores, she enjoys it.
She feels a sense of freedom and importance in herself that yes, she also can do the normal household chores.
And she's loving what she does.
Mishka examined the parcel, reading each word that was printed on the bill over the box, yet couldn't find the name of the sender. What's with this cryptic situation?
What will she tell Swati and Vinay?
Keeping the thoughts aside, she walked inside the house, still examining the box, she stumbled on Swati. Mishka stepped back, dropping the parcel down, her quick concerned expression shifts from Swati to the box as she crouched down to take the box. Dusting the invisible dirt, she meekly looked up at the lady, "It doesn't have any name." her voice is slow, like a whisper.
"Show me." Swati forwarded her palm. Mishka looks at the parcel, a longing look as if she's giving something precious to her, unwillingly, she gives the box.
They both sat down on the couch with the scissor, whereas Mishka was cracking her fingers in nervousness and curiosity to see what would be revealed. Swati opened the box, a frown marrying her face when she took out a white rectangular box, her eyes narrowed in shock when she saw the box.
Mishka frowns, taking the box from her, rotating it, investigating each corner through her calculative eyes. Clicking her tongue, she sighs deeply, throwing her head back and looking up at the ceiling.
She knows that it is Kairav. He is the sender of this brand new smartphone.
"Who must have sent this?" Swati asked, quickly dialling her husband.
Mishka knows that what's coming up next, it's not normal for him to just spend a huge amount of money and buy a smartphone for her, that too without her consent.
Intentions can be good and reasonable but the action wasn't. And she's against it.
"Have you sent this Realme phone?"
"Which Realme phone?"
"It arrived today. Have you bought this for Mishka?"
"No, I didn't buy any phone. Who sent her this phone? Return it immediately!"
