RESEMBLANCE

 

                                               Ep5-Realisation 

After a long, nostalgic afternoon, I returned to my high-rise apartment in Malviya Nagar. As I approached the elevator, my phone rang—it was my boss. For the first time in my life, I didn’t pick up a call from the office.

Giggles from my childhood echoed in my mind. I unlocked my apartment door, kicked off my sandals, and tossed my bag onto the floor. 

Taking a deep breath, I scanned the room like a CID investigator. The curtains hung haphazardly by the window, the bedsheet was wrinkled, my diaries lay dust-covered on the bedside table, and unwashed dishes from yesterday morning cluttered the sink. Everything felt strange, as if an unfamiliar wave had washed over me.

I opened the small kitchen window, letting fresh air flood the claustrophobic space. Pouring a glass of water, I hopped onto the counter and gulped it down like a child after an evening cricket match.

The sun was setting, and I gazed out the window, hoping for something cinematic beyond the pile of buildings. But nothing was there.

Lost in thought, my phone rang again—my boss, again. I steeled myself, returned to reality, and answered.

Before I could say “hello,”

he screamed, “Where were you, Smriti?! I’ve messaged you a hundred times and called you. Where the heck were you?”

I jumped off the counter in a panic and stammered, “Sir, it’s Sunday. I worked late yesterday. I needed rest, so I was sleeping.”

I realized how liberating it felt to say what I wanted, not what he expected.

His voice doubled in pitch. “Why do you need rest? Even if you worked late, your work was subpar. The client rejected everything! I told you to finish the other task by today, but you’re so irresponsible. You know if get scolded, you will too!”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this nonsense, but today, every word stabbed like a knife in my chest. 

They say if you pressurize something too much, it suppresses—but I didn’t suppress.

 I broke.

“I’m sorry, sir, if my work didn’t meet your or the client’s standards,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’ve been working tirelessly for three years. I haven’t seen my family in ages. God knows how my parents are right now. I don’t know why I chose money over passion. My diary is covered in dust, calling to me. I know it’s none of your business, but I’m fed up with everything and everyone here. I can’t do this anymore. My resignation will be in your email today.”

“What are you even saying, Smrii—”

I cut the call.

I cut the unwanted life.

I cut the thorn from the bush.

I set my phone on the counter, and a weight lifted. The breeze tousled my baby hairs, and I felt free. 

Drawn to the bedroom, I reached for the diary buried under a layer of dust. I brushed it clean with my hand, my fingers trembling. As I opened it, my eyes welled up at the first sentence on the first page: WORDS BY SMRITI. In that moment, I knew I’d made the best decision of my life.

A squirrel’s chatter drew my attention to the balcony. I watched it scamper across the railing, tapped the sill gently, and whispered, “Like you, I’m free too,” as it darted away.

The day flashed before me—the mother-daughter duo at the “Remember Me” cafe, the waiter’s familiar smile, Veeru uncle’s warm laughter—like a film reel. I realized it’s not the extraordinary moments that spark memories, but the small ones, nudging your soul into the resemblance of everything. As the sunset cast a golden glow on my diary, I felt the promise of a new beginning.

Dear reader , thankyou to read my very first fiction story . I hope u liked .