After angerly shutting the door behind me I just walked angerly towards a near by river upon arriving I stood there seeing the clear water and feeling somewhat relieved from tension for a bit—
Suddenly I heard a familiar voice. It was sharp and clear, slicing through the quiet like a blade. That voice had always carried confidence, but today it came with a storm. I turned slowly, already bracing myself.
It was Sonia.
Before I could even say "Hello," her fist came flying like it had been waiting two days for this exact moment. I didn't see it—I just felt it. My face met her knuckles, and then the ground. Dirt in my mouth, stars in my eyes, regrets in my soul. I groaned, pushed myself up, and barely got vertical before—THUD!—her second punch landed right in my stomach. I folded like a napkin at a fancy dinner. She stood over me, arms crossed, looking like a tiny, furious superhero who'd just saved the world from my nonsense. And honestly? I had it coming.
Two days ago, I'd made a joke in front of her friends. Something about how she looked like an angry squirrel trying to reach the top shelf. The group laughed. She didn't. I vanished after that—dodged her calls, skipped hangouts, basically went into hiding like I owed her money. And now, karma had arrived wearing a denim jacket and a scowl. Still hunched over, I looked up at her and said, "You know, Sonia, your angry face is so intense it could scare thunder back into the clouds."
Her eyebrow twitched.
"Like, if you were a weather forecast, you'd be '100% chance of fury with scattered punches.'"
Still no smile.
"And honestly, I'm impressed. I didn't know someone under five feet could launch a full-grown human into orbit." That one got her. Her lips twitched, trying not to smile. But the fists stayed ready.
I sighed, straightened up, and rubbed my jaw. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I was being a jerk. I shouldn't have made fun of you, especially not in front of everyone. You didn't deserve that, and I should've faced you sooner. I missed you—even if I was scared of getting turned into a human frisbee."
Her glare softened just a little. The storm was passing.
"Apology accepted," she said, "but next time you joke about my height, I'll make sure you see it from ground level again." I grinned through the pain. "Fair deal. Though I think you already started."
We sat on the edge of the riverbank, the tension from earlier slowly fading into the night air. Sonia had stopped threatening to rearrange my face, which felt like progress. She tossed a pebble into the water, her brows still furrowed, but the storm in her eyes had settled into a quiet drizzle.
"You gonna tell me what's really going on?" she asked, not looking at me.
I hesitated, then sighed. "It's my brother. Rohit." She glanced over, curious now.
"He came back from the US this week. Sat us down—me and Mom—and dropped a bomb. He's married. Living there. Said he's never coming back."
Sonia blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah. Just… said goodbye like it was a business transaction. No emotion. No explanation. Mom broke down. She locked herself in her room. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't even open the door."
Sonia was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "That's messed up."
I nodded, staring at the water. "I yelled at him. Told him he was tearing us apart. He didn't flinch. Just sat there like he'd already left." Sonia leaned back, arms crossed. "And you've been carrying that around alone?" "Pretty much. Until your fists reminded me I still feel things."
She smirked, nudged my shoulder. "Well, lucky for you, I punch with love."
I smiled, the ache in my chest easing just a little. "Thanks. I needed that."
Sonia didn't say anything right away. She just stared out at the water, her jaw tight, her fingers picking at the edge of her sleeve. The silence between us wasn't awkward—it was heavy, like she was trying to carry part of the weight herself.
"I didn't know it was that bad," she said finally, her voice quieter than usual. "You always joke around so much, I figured you were just being your usual idiot self."
I gave a weak smile. "Yeah, well… even idiots have breaking points."
She turned to me, her eyes softer now. "You should've told me earlier."
"I didn't know how," I admitted. "I was angry, confused… and honestly, I didn't want to see that look on your face. The one you give when you're disappointed."
Sonia snorted. "Please. I've been disappointed in you since you tried to microwave a boiled egg."
I laughed, the sound catching me off guard. It felt good—like something inside me had cracked open just enough to let the light in.
She nudged me again, this time gentler. "You're not alone, okay? Even if your brother's being a walking ice cube, you've still got me. And I punch with love, remember?"
I nodded, grateful. "Thanks, Sonia. For the punches. And for sticking around."
She smirked. "Anytime. Just don't call me fun-sized again or I'll launch you into the river."
I held up my hands. "Noted."
We sat there a while longer, the river flowing quietly beside us, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.
As we sat by the river, chuckling over old childhood memories, Sonia's phone cut through our laughter with a sharp ring. She fumbled for it, her fingers clumsy, and when she glanced at the screen, her face changed in an instant. Her cheeks, pink from giggling, turned pale, like the life had drained out of them. Her bright hazel eyes, always so full of spark, darkened with fear, wide and unblinking. Her lips, curved in a smile just moments ago, pressed into a tight, trembling line. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the soft sunlight, and her eyebrows pulled together, creasing her face with worry.
I reached out, my hand gently touching hers, trying to steady her. "Who's that?" I asked softly. She forced a smile, but it was weak, her lips quivering like they might break. "Just an old friend," she said, her voice too high, too quick, like she was trying to convince herself. She shook her head, laughing nervously. "Really, it's nothing, just someone I haven't talked to in ages." But her eyes darted away, avoiding mine, and her fingers clutched the phone too tightly.
I sighed, my heart heavy. I knew the truth, even if she wouldn't say it. I'd heard the whispers—how she'd been sneaking off to the casino, desperate to scrape together money for her bedridden mother's medical bills. The debt collectors weren't calling for no reason. "Sonia," I said gently, my voice barely above the river's murmur, "it's the casino debt people, isn't it?"
Her smile faltered, and for a moment, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "No, no, you've got it all wrong," she stammered, waving her hand like she could brush the truth away. "It's not like that. I'm fine, really." But her voice cracked, and she looked down, her fingers twisting together in her lap.
I slid closer, my hand resting on her shoulder. "Sonia, you don't have to hide it from me," I said softly. "I know you've been trying to help your mom. I'm here for you, okay? We'll figure this out together." My words were warm, but I could feel her pulling away, her body stiffening under my touch.
Suddenly, she stood, her movements jerky, like she couldn't stay still. "I—I just remembered," she said, her voice shaky as she grabbed her bag. "I forgot something at home. I've gotta go." She forced another smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll see you next time, okay?" Before I could say another word, she turned and hurried off, her footsteps quick and uneven on the path, leaving me by the river, the weight of her secret heavy in the air.