Truth be told, I miss you...
She didn’t reply to my ‘good night, sweet dreams’. She didn’t say ‘ditto’. Just switched off the lights and covered her face with the blanket. Perhaps this time she was not going to forgive and forget. She hadn’t talked with me for the whole day. Didn’t ask me for water, didn’t send me to fetch the newspaper, and didn’t even ask me to answer the door. I didn’t like her not commanding me. I missed her. Next day too was the same. We were getting ready for a party. She didn’t ask me to move aside when I was brushing my hair, or applying kohl. No competition this time. She didn’t show her distaste to my wacky nail polish designs, while she painted her nail baby pink. She wore a pink and purple salwar suit inspite of my suggestions to wear the white one. She looked beautiful, as usual. ‘This dress looks awesome on you,’ I tried to start a conversation for the tenth time. Again, no reply. She didn’t even ask me if her hair looked good. She asked Mom. Should I just say sorry? N...