Around You

Chapter 3

I heaved a sigh with slumped shoulders as I thanked the driver before paying the bill. Stepping off the black Maruti Suzuki taxi, I raised my head towards the cluster of high-rise buildings before me. Prakriti Towers; a decent complex consisting of five buildings. Each building had ten floors; a surprise to me but a general norm in this city. All five had huddled together, surrounded by lush green trees that now faded into a darker shade under the night sky.

No wonder the builders had named this complex 'Prakriti'.

Smiling to myself and at my new home, I pushed my satchel over my shoulder, slipping my phone inside. After greeting the watchman, I entered the first of four elevators of Tower B and pushed the button for my floor. Suddenly feeling parched, I ransacked my bag for my abandoned water bottle, gulping down the last few drops.

A beep echoed within the four sleek metallic walls of the elevator, indicating my stop. With bated breaths, I walked over to my apartment that read 'Singh' and pressed the doorbell.

A second passed, and then another. After thirty seconds of patiently waiting, my eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. Taking the maroon satchel in my hands, I looked for the spare key Ma had given to me this morning, the frown on my face growing by the second.

Inserting the key in its hole, I waited for it to click, before swinging the gate open, ready to call out to my mother. She should have been home by now. She would've informed me had she gone out.

Only no words came out, just the shrill of broken glass.

I gasped at the sight that welcomed me. The cushions on the sofa had scattered haphazardly, the one-seater angled from its correct position. Our sky blue curtains had been drawn, flailing about frivolously by the cool Mumbai wind. Something shattered a bit more under my unconscious step as I looked down. Glass had been shattered to shreds, oozing out an amber liquid I recognized too well.

I didn't need to look to my left towards the dining table; the nervous tapping of fingers against the wooden furniture said it all.

"Welcome home, Dad." I lifted my gaze to find an old man grimacing.

He looked wrecked, as if he hadn't showered in days. His checkered shirt had faded, his jeans ripped from the ends. And yet his tall built remained the way it had in pictures dated twenty years ago. His hair had greyed, his stubble had grown, his glasses drooped on the bridge of his nose. And yet the wrinkles on his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes told a different story.

He hadn't aged. Life had just made him helpless.

My father finally met my gaze. Where I had hoped to see pride and happiness, I was welcomed with grief and disappointment.

"You're late." His deep baritone voice grumbled through the empty living room.

"I was caught up with work. Where's mom?" I sighed defeatedly, dropping my satchel on the sofa.

"You said you would be home by 8 PM. It's past 10." He continued.

"I wasn't off partying. I got the job, I was on set." I whispered, hoping he would take notice of my new achievement. A new step in life. A new step towards fulfilling our dreams.

"How much are they paying you?" He inquired instead.

I scoffed a little, reprimanding myself for expecting too much. "Enough to sustain you and your needs, Dad."

A glimmer of regret flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a look of indifference.

"Where's mom?" I repeated my question, looking over to the empty kitchen.