#kiara and i have been planning this plot 5ever omgggg

[ahopelessramantic-blog]

Oh Dear Brother / Ramsha + Ritu Bhediya

writing soundtrack

@raksha-bhediya

Rama was twelve thousand percent aware of how gross he looked, walking with his arm around his wife, occasionally pulling her in to kiss her cheek. He knew. Just, he didn’t care. After spending nearly two years barely talking, just existing in the same space like strangers, their recent return to living like a married couple was sweeter than falling in love.

It wasn’t his fault that Raksha fit perfectly against his side.

The sun was shining, the weather was lovely, and Rama didn’t have any plans to be at the hospital or joining the cleanup efforts today. The only thing on his to do list was to spend time with Raksha and their daughter. It’d been too long since he got to feel this happy.

Since he got to feel like a husband and father. 

Swynlake, however, was full of surprises. And none, not even a town-wide dream, would throw him more than this one.

Ritu Bhediya was eleven when her nineteen year old brother Rama disappeared. Their older brother believed he was dead. He was probably right. But Ritu and the sister and brother between her and Rama...held out hope. Their father died never knowing what became of his son. Their mother was destroyed by his disappearance, and sometimes, Ritu hated Rama for it.

That was why she wanted him to be alive so badly. You can’t hate a dead man.

It was convenient for her if Rama were alive, see.

She remembered the last time she saw him. He promised to bring her a pretty sari when he returned home for his next uni break, kissed the top of her head, ruffled her hair, and turned to board the train from Hyderabad to Delhi. She didn’t watch his back until he disappeared into the crowd.

But she should have.

It would be the last time she would ever see her big brother, her superhero, her idol. Until, while living in London in 2018 with her husband, a dinner party for his work resulted in a Google search that brought a picture of her aged by eighteen years, smiling, very much not dead older brother to her attention.

Swynlake, a town full of magical disasters, hometown of her husband’s colleague. His tale of what his family back home had just gone through piqued her interest in the town. So she did what any millennial would do and turned to Google.

There, the town’s online articles of their local paper popped up. And the picture for an article about repairing damages to the hospital? Included several nurses in uniform - a tall man sticking out among the women - hard at work cleaning up damage to the lobby.

From left to right: a name Ritu didn’t care about, a name Ritu didn’t care about, Minnie Don’t Care, Rama Bhediya, a name Ritu didn’t care a- wait, wait, wait - and she reread the name to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

Rama Bhediya, it said. Clearly. She looked up at the man’s face again and had to throw her laptop to the side so she could run to the loo and vomit. She’d recognize her big brother anywhere, even if it had been eighteen years. Even if he’d been out of her life almost twice as long as he’d been in it.

That face. Paired with that name. There was no way it was anybody but him.

That picture was what led Ritu to the main street through town, headed for the hospital to confront him at work, really embarrass the shit out of the bastard - oh, but God was on her side today.

She didn’t have to ask for directions after all. She didn’t believe it at first, but! There he was. Theeeeeere he was. And Ritu advanced toward him and whoever that chick with him was - did she know what a jackass he was? letting his baby sister mourn him her whole life when he was just fine and living in the UK? - and didn’t even hesitate for a second when she balled up her fist, pulled it back, and hit him in the face with a right hook.

“You rat bastard! You deserve so much more! So much more,” she screamed at him, in English. Who knows how long he’s lived in England. Did her speak Telugu anymore? Malayalam? Did he speak English with a Kiwi accent still like Manaal and Laranya, or did he speak a more Indian-accented English like her, or an American-esque one like Salil?

After the pain from the punch wore off, she’d know. Perhaps he’d be proud.

Years ago, Rama’d taught her how to throw that punch. You’re a young woman in a big city, my little star. You have to be as tough as your are pretty. Oh, there’s the nausea again. 

The rage slowly simmered to uncloud her vision, and when it did? She almost delighted in the blood on his cheek from the cut her engagement ring made.

“Hmph. Miss me, Batman?”

As she advanced on him, he thought he was seeing things. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that was a grown-up version of his baby sister, Ritu. It was impossible, it was -

- but then, she punched him. Hard. And called him BAtman, the superhero she used to compare him to, and. There was one thing Rama knew for sure. Two things. First, that this was Ritu standing before him. And second, that his wife was two point five seconds away from going to jail.

He didn’t have time to assess the damage, he grabbed Raksha before she could tear the woman’s - his sister’s, holy god, his sister, how did she...? - throat out.

“Raksha! Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I deserved that, deserved...” he kept a tight hold of her and looked into Ritu’s eyes, a thousand apologies in his but his tongue could form none of them. “I deserved that, I did.”