There are memories that every person owns.

Some memories are of childhood , some of teenage , some of late teenage and if you are older than me , then there are memories from your adulthood or even from late forties.

In these memories there are many emotions. These are the stories that hold a lot. And when I say that these memories hold emotions - I mean the hurt you feel when you remember some bad incident from the past. Then there are more traumatic incidents that give you flinches whenever they mistakenly flash in your mind.

And then there are some good and some beautiful times that make you smile and make you feel nostalgic.

But after all of this , apart from the bad and good memories - there are these very and very specific incidents that happen to you and make you someone very different from yourself.

Those are the memories that are from specific person having more then just emotions. It's the way they transform you physically , emotionally and mentally.

My uncle has been the latter for me in my memories.

So now when I am standing in front of the O.T. all I can do is stare at the door because I have nothing to speak with the 'God' people believe in.

My mother is a pure theist. She does prayer and everything with perfect rituals and the family follows her , praying with her. In the festivals , I still remember , everyone in the house used to gather and pray but I was the only one who remained in my room because I never prayed and wasn't anyways going to fake that I care to believe in god.

Being an atheist, it was always difficult for me to live in a family that believes too much in God but then gradually they understood that they couldn't change my mind and that I was never going to beg in front of someone who I have never seen , felt or smelled.

I cannot see God , I have never seen him help me like the world says he does , I have never felt his presence. He wasn't there when I was bein-

" Meera , for how long are you going to keep standing? " My brother asks and I look up at his green eyes that are very similar to my maternal grandmother's.

He is 30 , practically three years older than me but somehow there is a huge emotional and mental age gap between us. He has been like a father to me because the said person couldn't perform his basic duties towards me hence my brother became one for me for a better and less traumatic life.

His eyes are always soft and warm whenever he looks at me. As if he pities me which - is the only thing that I dislike about him.

" I am fine. You don't have to worry. " I say and sigh out softly when the continuous drilling gaze in my side doesn't reduce or go away.

My eyes move across the room and match the very pitch dark ones , a stark contrast to my brother's eyes.

He is talking to Sara right now who is trying to control her tears.

As much as these green eyes are warm and comforting those black ones are more cold and bottomless.

" What happened? " Tanvish , my brother questions lowly , looking in the same direction as me.

Dhairya's eyes look away from mine the moment they see my brother.

I chuckle softly , the sarcasm taking over me.

" What? " His brows come together as we both look away from Dhairya.

" Nothing. " I mumble and fold my arms over my chest walking towards the bench.

Tanvish follows me and as we sit beside each other there is a pause around us as I take a brief look around me.

White sickening walls , awful smell of medicines , continuous whispers , cries and stressing environment. My parents are here with my other uncles , their wives and my cousins. My own in-laws are here talking with my parents as Anjana aunt cries silently for her dear husband's life.

" You know , he is still glaring at you. " Tanvish mutters and I look at him before trailing my eyes in the direction he is looking only to find my husband there .

Now why has he been suddenly staring at me when he didn't do it for all these days?

" He is my husband , brother. " I make it sound obvious but let me tell you that Tanvish knows me more than anyone so if I am trying to lie or joke , he is the first one to catch it.

" I know the difference between staring and glaring. And he is glaring. " He points out and there is a dramatic eye roll as I glance at Dhairya who is now talking to my father.

Tsk!

" Tell me how this happened , brother. " I look away. " This accident. "

" You are changing the subject. " He interjects.

Shaking my head , I smile at him. " Everything is fine. Really. "

" Really? " He asks.

" Yes. " I cannot look him in the eye.

" Does he know about yo-

" Accident , brother ." I finally look in those jade eyes . " How did uncle end up in such an accident when he is very careful with driving. "

" He is very careful with everything. So careful that not even a trace of -

" Probably due to the darkness he couldn't see , I imagine. These days the fog and darkness makes it really risky. " I mumble and a horrifying laugh but barely audible to anyone around us , erupts from him.

" Was this the excuse you gave to y-

" Will you shut up? " I question with locked teeth.

This is too much.

I knew it.

Tanvish pities me.

" I can't believe it Meera. How can you take his side? How-

" He is my uncle. Mistakes happen. Humans make mistakes. Uncle is a human-

" How can you consider him one after what he did?! "

" He didn't do it deliberately , brother. He never wanted-

" Stop acting like this Meera! " He silences me. Even though we are very low and basically whispering, yet it feels like a full on fight.

And this is not normal.

We never fight.

Tanvish and I - we never fight.

I don't know what to say. So I just get up from the bench and walk through the hallway , out of the hospital.

That smell of medicines and pale color of walls with distressed expressions on people's faces are making it horrible for me.

I can't breathe there.

As soon as the cool air from outside hits me , a wave of content washes over me with a long sigh , forming clouds of cold fog.

" Not able to handle the interior being a doctor yourself, huh? " I hear Dhairya speak before his figure stands in front of me.

When did he come out?

And wait -

He is smoking.

Does he smoke?

Did I know?

Do I care?

My eyes linger at the burning cherry loosely held between his thin and long index and middle finger.

" What? Want one? " He questions and I say nothing.

" Here. I have seen the ashtray that resides beside your bed. " He slithers with sarcasm passing a drag.

" You entered the room behind my back? " I frown but take the drag anyways. There is more interest in my tone than disappointment or anger.

" You entered my place without my permission, did I say anything? " He questions with his eyes narrowing at mine and my frown only deepens at that.

He flicks the lighter on as I place the stick between my lips. Those bottomless eyes stare at me in a more resting and chill manner.

A hiss sounds at the tip of the stick as he lights up the cigarette. Our eyes locked. My heart thumping softly but consciously and carefully.

He puffs on his cigarette and smirks. " I know you have the idea of my rattrap , don't you? "

THUMP

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