6000

The Storm Begins

Esha's deepest fear had finally become reality.

She was on her way back from the market, her arms heavy with groceries and her mind lost in thought, when her eyes suddenly locked onto a familiar figure across the street.

Was that... Emma?

“Is this Emma? Or am I dreaming?” a tiny voice echoed in her head.

Frozen in disbelief, Esha stood still for a moment, her breath catching. As she tried to make sense of what she was seeing, she noticed Mrs. Mera nearby, struggling to balance shopping bags in both hands.

“Wao! It's Emma! What a coincidence!” Esha suddenly screamed, her voice slicing through the crowd like a siren.

Several passersby turned to look at her, some with concern, others with judgment, wondering if she had gone mad. But neither Emma nor Mrs. Mera noticed her outburst. They simply kept walking, as if nothing had happened.

Back home, Esha was still breathless as she burst through the door.

"Granny! Preeta!" she shouted. "I saw her! I saw Emma!"

Granny Ahuja, half-asleep on her recliner, sat up with a startled look. Preeta, Esha's cousin, peered in from the kitchen, confused.

"Oh my!" Granny gasped. "So... Emma is still in this country?"

"What do you mean, Granny?" Esha asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I just thought... with the kind of wealth the Meras have, they'd have taken her abroad by now. America, maybe the UK. But they stayed. Strange, isn’t it?"

"That's not what matters to me right now!" Esha snapped. “Grandma, my interest is in my baby sister!”

"Hush, child!" Granny Ahuja interrupted sharply. “Are you the only one in this world with a younger sibling? Look at you—always acting like you’re the only one who’s lost something. Why were you not adopted, hmm? But your sister was?”

"Enough, Granny!" Preeta's voice cut through the tension, filled with anger. "If you can talk like that, then maybe I wouldn't be wrong if I said you were the one who destroyed your own children!"

Granny Ahuja gasped, her face darkening. “How dare you! You brat! Witch!” she screamed, before storming into her room and slamming the door.

Preeta exhaled sharply and turned away.

“Preeta… you shouldn’t have said that,” Esha murmured, clearly torn. “Now you’ve made Grandma angry.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Preeta shot back bitterly. “She thinks she can just say whatever she wants and walk away like it doesn’t matter.”

She disappeared into her room, leaving Esha alone in the silence.

Esha knelt on the floor, her hands clasped tightly. “Oh Almighty, please… bring peace to this home. And bring my sister back to me.”

---

Later that evening, Emma stood alone at a bus stop junction, nervously glancing around. She had gotten lost in a part of town she didn’t recognize.

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled out her phone and called her driver.

“Come pick me. Now,” she said curtly.

As soon as the call ended, a black car pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down—and to her shock, Esha stepped out.

“Emma! Emma, it’s really you!” Esha cried out, her heart thudding wildly as she rushed over and hugged her tightly.

But Emma stiffened. Her voice was cold.

“Excuse me… who are you? And how do you know my name?”

“I’m your sister, Emma. I used to take care of you before you were adopted by the Meras.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about? Adopted? Who told you that rubbish? I don’t have time for sick jokes, okay? Move aside.”

“So she didn’t tell you…” Esha murmured, her voice shaking. “Look, I’m Esha. Your elder sister. You were adopted. Mrs. Mera isn’t your real—”

“Enough!” Emma snapped. “First of all, I don’t even know you. And second, I have no business with you!”

Just then, her driver arrived, honking impatiently.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Emma said, stepping into the car.

“Can I join you?” Esha asked, desperately.

“No. Go join one of those low-budget taxis. Get out of my face.”

She slammed the door right in Esha’s face, leaving her stunned and tearful on the curb.

“She… doesn’t remember me,” Esha whispered, her voice breaking.

---

At the Mera residence, Emma walked in, her face pale, her mind a storm of confusion. She found Mrs. Mera in the living room.

"Mom," Emma said firmly, "I need to talk to you."

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Mera asked, looking up from her tablet.

"Who am I?" Emma demanded. “Are you really my biological mother? Am I adopted? Tell me the truth!”

The flower vase on the table trembled as Emma’s hand brushed it—and then it fell, shattering to the ground.

“Emma! Calm down!” Mrs. Mera said, startled. “You’re asking too many questions all at once.”

“I’m not calming down until I have answers!” Emma cried. “I need the truth—now!”

Mrs. Mera hesitated for a moment before speaking softly.

"Okay… you're not adopted. You are my biological daughter. I gave birth to you, and I raised you. That's the truth."

Emma stared at her for a long moment. Her voice came out in a murmur.

“Then what rubbish was that girl saying…?”

“What girl?” Mrs. Mera asked, her eyes suddenly alert.

“I met someone. She said her name was Esha. She said I was her sister. That I was adopted.”

Mrs. Mera’s expression darkened, but her voice remained calm. “Don’t mind her. She’s talking nonsense. People say strange things sometimes. Forget her. Go upstairs and freshen up, okay?”

Emma slowly nodded, but her face was still shadowed with doubt.

As she climbed the stairs, Mrs. Mera turned away, her calm mask slipping into cold calculation.

If she finds out the truth… she thought.

She clenched her fists.

“I need to get rid of that Esha girl. I need to get rid of her… sooner than I planned.”