If someone had told me a few months ago that Ishika Vyas would be sitting in my living room, cross-legged on our couch, arguing passionately about fictional monsters while my family watched in delight, I would have recommended therapy.
Yet here we are.
She’s changed back into her own clothes after breakfast, hair tied loosely, face scrubbed clean except for faint kajal still left behind near the corners of her eyes. She had looked embarrassed enough this morning to disappear through the floor, but Ma handled it like she’d always been around, which somehow helped.
Now she’s here. Still here. Talking. Actually talking. Not clipped replies. Not sarcastic bullets fired in my direction. Full sentences. Animated expressions. Opinions. Theories.
And I can’t stop smiling.
Radhika is sitting opposite her, knees folded under her, leaning so far forward she might as well crawl across the table. “No, listen to me,” she says, waving both hands. “Vecna is not fullygone. There is no way they will build him up for seasons and end him like that.”
“I know!” Ishika says, eyes wide. “Exactly. And there are too many loose ends. Also Will definitely matters more than they’re showing.”
My sister gasps like she has found her soulmate. “That is what I’ve been saying!”
I lean back in my chair and watch Ishika’s face as she speaks. There’s color in it now. Life. Her hands move when she talks, brows pulling together when she gets intense about a point. She forgets to guard herself when she’s excited.
I don’t think she knows that. And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it. “We should definitely watch the new season together,” Radhika declares suddenly.
Ishika blinks. “What?”
“Yes,” Radhika says firmly. “Because Aryan is a scaredy cat.”
I choke on air. “Excuse me?”
Radhika shakes her head dramatically. “This thirty-two-year-old man is scared of flower-like monsters from a kids’ show.”
Ishika looks at me. Then bursts into laughter. Head tipped slightly back, mouth full because she’s still chewing toast, trying to laugh and eat at the same time.
I place a hand on my chest. “Hey. They are scary. Don’t be so ageist.” That makes both of them laugh harder. “Maa!” I yell toward the kitchen. “Radhika is being mean to me!”
I pout for effect. They both roll their eyes in sync. I can’t help chuckling. From the armchair near the window, Vedant doesn’t even look up from his phone. “It is a kids’ show.”
Ishika gasps like he insulted her ancestors. “It was made for kids maybe,” she says, turning toward him, “but it’s so interesting.”
Vedant finally looks up, startled by the intensity. He glances at me for help.
I shrug. Every man for himself.
Radhika points dramatically at Vedant. “See? This is what I deal with.”
“You deal with nothing,” Vedant replies calmly. “You create problems and call them personality.”
She throws a cushion at him. He catches it without looking.
Ishika laughs again.
God.
I don’t know what this feeling is exactly, but it sits warm in my chest and spreads every time she does that.
Ma walks in carrying another plate and sits beside me on the sofa. Her eyes scan the room once and soften when they land on Ishika. That terrifies me.
Because when my mother gets soft, she usually says something emotional or wildly inappropriate. And Ishika has walls taller than any building.
“So, Ishika,” Ma says warmly.
I visibly see Ishika stiffen. Shoulders tightening. Smile freezing for a second. I almost intervene. But Ma continues before I can. “You should join Radhika for this show thing. I’ll force these boys to watch too,” she adds, glaring at me and Vedant equally.
