Page 3 of Shattered

“Makes me a very productive person,” I smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to wrap up within an hour.”

He rises to his feet and looks down at me. “I’ll hold you to that. Just don’t make me drag you out of here.”

I grin, “Deal. But if you do have to drag me out, at least make sure there’s more coffee wherever we’re going.”

He laughs, “You got it! Coffee on standby for any rescue missions.”

“Exactly,” I wink.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, planting a kiss on my cheek before heading out.

Once he leaves, I return my attention to the laptop screen, diving back into the files before me.

???

An hour later, I finally pull into the driveway of my house, park the car, and turn off the engine. My heart pounds in my chest as I gaze at my house that once looked like a haven. Everything looks the same—the small two-story house with its white and brown paint and the little garden, where my mom, my sister, and I used to spend hours together. But now, every time I step inside, it feels profoundly different. There is no warm welcome from my parents, no lively chaos from my sister. Instead, I will find her lying in silence, deep in a coma.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and open the car door, only to see the front door of the house opening at the same time. Closing my car door, I smile when I see Sunita Aunty standing on the front porch, dressed in a peach salwar, her short salt-and-pepper hair neatly tied in a bun. Sunita Aunty is my sister’s full-time caretaker and, more importantly, she’s taken on the role of a mother figure,filling a void in my life left by my mom’sabsence.

“Kavya,” she smiles as I take a step towards her. The smile on her wrinkled face brings me comfort after a hectic day at work. “I was waiting for you to get home,” she says, opening her arms, and my heart tightens painfully in my chest. Closing the distance between us, I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the crook of her neck.

“I am sorry, Aunty. Work took longer than I thought,” Imurmur, pulling back slightly. I then narrow my eyes at her and put on my stern voice. “How many times have I told you not to wait up for me? You need your rest.”

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t sleep peacefully until I see your face,” she replies, her brown eyes sparkling with affection.

“Aunty, I don’t like—” I begin, but she cuts me off before I can say anything further.

“Shush, stop fighting with the old lady and let’s go inside,” she quips, taking my handand leading me into the house.

“You like playing the ‘old lady’ card with me,” I groan, rolling my eyes as I drop onto the couch, setting my purse down on the coffee table.

She laughs, sinking into the couch next to me. “Well, what can I say? It works every time.”

I glance around the living room, where the white walls, wooden furniture draped in colourful rugs, and scattered flower pots, allevoke memories of days when I would spend hours here with my parents and sister.

Blinking back tears, I turn to Aunty. “How is Nisha? Did… did she wake up?” My voice wavers slightly with hope, despite knowing the answer.

“She’s still the same,” she replies softly. “I know how desperately you’re waiting for her to wake up. Even these old eyes of mine are waiting for that little girl to open hers. I’ve heard countless stories about her from you. I want to experience it firsthand—her laughter and her mischief. In such a short time, you two have become my own, my family. Seeing her lying there like this pains me, it…” her voicefalters, and I instinctively reach out to hold her trembling hand.

“Aunty, I know no one can replace my parents, but you’ve filled that void in a way I never thought possible, ever since my mom passed away. Having you here, taking care of us, meanseverything to me. I am truly fortunate to have you by my side, Aunty,” I reply, my voice catching slightly as I gently squeeze her hands, holding back tears. I am overwhelmed by the depth of our bond. It’s truly a stroke of luck to have found someone like Aunty. She doesn’t have any children of her own, and her husband passed away a few years ago, so she understands my pain of losing someone dear better than anyone else.

Her eyes soften and she pats my cheek tenderly. “You’ve been the daughter that I never had, one I never imagined I would be blessed with. I guess we’ve both hit the jackpot by finding each other,” she says adding humour to lighten the mood.

“Indeed,” I smile at her. She seems to be on the verge of saying something more, but then, she looks away, clears her throat, and then meets my gaze again.

“I bet you haven’t had dinner yet. And before you start fussing, let me tell you, you’re in for a treat. I’ve cooked your favourite chicken curry and rice.”

“God, my mouth is already watering!”

“Why don’t you go see Nisha first, then freshen up and come down for dinner?”

“Thank you, Aunty. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I say softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Now, go on and hurry up,” she says, rising to her feet.

I give her a nod, mirroring her movement. She turns and walks towards the kitchen, and I make my way down the hall to my sister’s room.

Stepping into the room, I take in the sight of my sister lying there, so still and peaceful, in her queen-sized bed,a machine beside her, monitoring her every breath. I let my eyes wander around the room before I make my way towards her. The walls are painted her favourite shade of purple and cream, with matching furniture. Her bookshelf stands proudly in the corner, and the brown leather recliner I bought her for her fifteenthbirthday, using my saved pocket money, still sits by the window, where she would spend hours lost in her books.

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