𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭 - 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀

◦•●◉✿Tears are luxury, Not for everyone ✿◉●•◦

𝗥𝗼𝗼𝗵𝗶 𝗣𝗼𝘃

I woke up an hour ago but stayed on my bed, eyes closed, draped in my blanket. I clearly knew my mother was taunting downstairs but I made no move to get up until I heard her footsteps.

I threw my blanket like a trained guard. I rushed into my bathroom and closed the door ever so lightly, and just the moment I opened the tap, she entered the room.

"Are you in the bathroom?" she shouted from outside. I cleared my throat first before I spoke. "Yeah, what happened?" I hid my morning voice neatly with years of practice.

"When did you wake up?" she questioned me from outside. "I don't remember," I replied, and she left—like always.

I did my morning routine like a mad woman. I couldn’t dump the shit because I didn’t have my morning push water. I brushed my teeth and quickly took a shower. It becomes easier when you don’t have to wash your hair.

I hurriedly dried my hair and draped a towel around me, quickly wore a tee and trouser, hair up in a claw. I took a deep breath but the weight in my stomach stayed—my water.

I unwillingly left the room and headed straight to the kitchen, ignoring my mother. I mumbled a good morning and chugged down chia water from a copper glass. As soon as I drank it, the next moment I was on edge.

I rushed back to my room and did my main business and flushed it. I sighed in relief—now I could start my day with no worries. I tidied my bed and went downstairs.

I saw my mother talking on the phone, maybe with one of her besties. "Of course, Maharani woke up just now. No, no. I don’t say anything to her, she can do whatever she wants. She went out of hand the moment we gave her a phone. At the end, I am the one who has to listen," my mother ranted on the phone like a daily soap opera.

I went into the kitchen, ate a banana, grabbed my bag from the storeroom, and wore my shoes.

"Ma, I am going to Hustle Dance Studio. I have classes from 11 AM to 3 PM," I told her while tying my shoelaces. "Go, go. After all, you do what you want to. Who are we to stop you?" She taunted me again, leaving me with a disheartened heart.

I clutched my phone in hand and left the house. I walked away from my society and booked a Rapido bike which reached in less than 5 minutes. I gave him the OTP and sat behind him, locking the helmet around my head while putting my bag between us.

People have huge mouths and with my family, I’d rather avoid such things. Once I reached, I got off the bike and paid the fare. I looked at the Hustle Studio board then at the glass door. I quickly pulled out my smile, even though it was forced.

I went inside, and the buzz of music under the wooden floor reached me. I went inside the room and watched everyone warming up, laughing with each other, some in the corner practicing moves. I smiled and put my bag down on a chair across the corner of the room.

Whoever noticed me passed me a huge smile, which I returned with my own small one. I tied the knot on my trouser adjustment lace and pulled my bra a bit down, adjusting it for movement.

I tied my hair in a claw clip ’cause today’s class didn’t require hair. I clapped for everyone’s attention.

"File up, everyone. On three—two, one—very well." Everyone filled up in a horizontal line, four behind one.

"Good morning everyone. Hope you all had your eight-hour sleep," I said with a warm expression.

"Good morning Ms. Roohi. Yes, we had eight-hour sleep," everyone chirped together. Some answered differently but I heard one in majority.

"Very well. So, everyone ready for the Afro test?" I looked through everyone, trying to see as far as I could. Some groaned while some chirped. A few decided to stay silent and some were scared. I chuckled.

"Four at a time. I will personally give you guys the song, and don’t worry, it’s for fun. Feel free to do freestyle. Dance is all about creativity and above that, your enjoyment." I smiled. I saw many of them lighten up.

"Okay, for the first go, four of you come out on your own." I gave them the option so those who were not ready could prepare while others danced.

My expected four came out, making me hum and nod in satisfaction. Everyone has their preferred style of dance, but learning new things never hurts. You never know what can be your wild card.

I played Azaman. Slowly, they all began while I looked at them. Kiran was the first one to fit freestyle, making me smile and nod my head in approval. Ishant seconded that. They went with the freestyle, adding whatever they felt was fitting in, and it should be that way. I stopped the music and clapped, so did others.

"Very well, Kiran and Ishant. The freestyle of network and exhibit was truly amazing," I praised them.

Everyone started dancing and after everyone was done, I played one beat mashup with old Bollywood songs. I have been lately obsessed with these. Native songs hit harder and bring out vibrance in the field of dance—you cannot deny that.

Everyone was clearly excited. I pulled my tee off, revealing my crop top inside as I started dancing with them. We had been practicing this same song for five days and everyone hit the steps right—even if they didn’t, I didn’t notice.

By two in the afternoon we wrapped up everything and bid farewell. I wore my tee back and dried my sweaty body under the air conditioner. After a short break I left from there. August’s last days are always rainy or cloudy and it worked in my favour.

I went toward the nearby park. I usually avoid going there because of lovers who usually had their lip locks, but I certainly didn’t want to go home this early.

I went inside the park and was warmly welcomed by two lovers giving each other hickeys. I looked to my left and right—am I the only one who walks over them? I noticed after a while that they had stopped and I hadn’t walked away.

I rushed inside because of the faces they both were making. After a while, I saw a perfect spot where I could sit. I sat under a tree in the corner of the area while making snaps of several couples.

One day if I meet any of them, I’ll show their parents what they do in their extra coaching classes.

I sent it to my friends, grinning. I put my phone down and sat there feeling so much peace.

Sniffing whimpers

Soft sobs

Muffled cries

My head snapped toward the sound until I turned back to see a girl, maybe twenty or twenty-one, crying softly.

I looked at her for a bit as I saw her trying to control it all, the way she kept wiping her tears. I stood up with my bag and began to walk away. It’s none of my business—why should I bother?

But the next moment—I was sitting beside her. I sighed internally. Why?

She composed herself but the light shiver in her body gave it away. I just sat there. I would not speak a word.

"Nice weather, isn’t it?" I cursed myself for doing what I tended not to.

"W—What?" She choked a bit. I still didn’t bother to turn and look at her, I knew she looked horrible by now.

"Hard day?" I asked her a bit gentler than my usual way.

She looked down and shook her head and I didn’t ask that again.

"You feel like crying?" I mumbled and she slowly nodded her head. This time, I looked at her in her eyes.

"Then do it. Cry it out." I put my hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. It was like her dam broke as she started crying hysterically.

I just sat beside her, wondering when I last cried. Over time I understood one thing: let it out. Don’t block it all in, ’cause after one point you will try to cry but nothing will come out.

I didn’t even notice when that girl stopped crying and tidied herself again. I looked at her one last time.

"Thank you, it’s just—life became heavier," she said softly, making me nod my head. I could understand that—her.

"Cry it out when you have to. Not everyone gets to cry over pain." I patted her back and gave her my emergency bottle before walking away.

I felt as if someone had taken the weight off my shoulders. Even though I didn’t cry, I felt lighter.

.. 𝗧𝗼 𝗕𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲 ..