Chapter 7: Promises Under the Night Bulb

Maybe because we only had each other, Kabir and I became closer.

For days, I made prawn feasts, then chicken feasts.

Kabir, still quiet, quietly washed the dishes after every meal.

But sometimes, he’d say softly, "Didi, do log hain, do dish enough hai."

Me: "Oh."

But the hero eats ten dishes! My villain brother deserves at least that much.

One night, after dinner, Kabir stood at the sink, back to me, washing dishes to the steady rhythm of running water.

I lounged on the sofa, WhatsApp forwards flickering:

[Villain’s actually sensible—washing dishes and all!]

[But so poor yaar...]

[Didi is total iron lady, respect!]

Me: "..."

No, some people seem calm, but inside, they’re already breaking.

I stared at Kabir’s back, then suddenly called, "Bhai, zara idhar aa."

Kabir came over, unsure.

When he reached me, I rubbed my hands, then tapped his forehead, grinning: "Oye villain, future mein Didi ko ek bada bungalow chahiye!"

"Also, full saree and handbag ka mountain!"

"And five-star hotel food, always."

Kabir stared, stunned: "..."

Even WhatsApp forwards froze before erupting:

[Bas, Didi ne phir wishing well samajh liya villain ko!]

[Arre, villain ka meme face dekho!]

[But sahi hai, villain future mein rich hoga...]

Kabir was still too young to get it all, but that was fine.

Let me dream out loud.

What I didn’t know: that night, Kabir sat under the inverter lamp, scribbling my wishes in an old notebook—‘Didi wants: bungalow, sarees, five-star food’—underlining each one twice, as if magic would make them real.