Short Story: Broken Door

The mother plucked out the cord of the fridge and leaned its disjoint door against the wall. My, how she hated that broken door! She always complained about it to her husband, but he never had time for non-urgent works.

A gush of white cloud, smelling orange, thrust out of the fridge, and played with her hot and sweaty face for a moment before vanishing in the warm afternoon air. What a momentarily respite that was! At times like that, the broken door could become a positive blessing, and she would have continued her work in that narrow kitchen without fitting that door soon. But, that was a different day with its different issue. So, she quickly took out a polythene bag containing oranges and apples, and carefully placed the door back. She

“W-who? Me?” he said, clearing his throat. “I told you I walked in sleep and-”

“Am mother. Not a doctor. Not a neighbor. Can’t lie to me.”

“But, I said I sleep-walked and fell accidentally,” the boy said, his voice becoming louder. “So, what’s lie in that?”

“It wasn’t an accident-”

“It was. And that’s all the truth.”

“Knew that… and that’s why,” she said, pulling the slip she had inserted under her ring. She opened the crumpled slip and it revealed the name of the girl- Sara. “Do you need a hundred more proofs I found… or, one is enough?”

His face turned paler.

“How could you do that?” she said, grabbing him by shoulders.

He tried to cover his face with his right hand, but she held it by wrist.

“How could you even think about that? Tell me. For a girl? Who’s she? Does she matter so much to you? Doesn’t your mother matter anymore? Did not realize even once that she would die if anything happens to her son?” she said as the tears falling down her cheeks kept outnumbering her questions.

The boy clenched his jaw and turned his head, trying to look outside the

“I want to talk to you,” he said, looking out the door.

“Tell,” she said, sitting beside him. “He is out to get some juice for you.”

The boy scratched at the back of his neck.

She pressed his shoulders. If you would have shown such hesitation that night, then it would have never happened. “Tell…”

“Ma… I won’t do it again.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, knowing very well.

He put his head in his lap. “Please forgive me.”

The mother hesitated for a moment, but then put her hand over his head.

He looked up. “But please, don’t tell Ajay and Papa about it. How would I answer them? No, I can’t. I made a mistake. Very big mistake. But please, don’t tell them. I won’t be able to see that. Will never think of committing suicide again…”

Her heart sank, hearing that sinister word. “But why did you do it then?”

The boy slid a little on the bed.

“Tell me son, may help you…”

The boy closed his eyes, and kept shaking his head.

“What are you thinking?” the mother said. “I promise I will never do it. I promise I will not die again. I love you all and will live for you all. Yes, I will try to become your good son