Anya went back home, rage seeping into her core with every step. She assumed her parents would be home; it was already getting dark and she had missed lunch. Her stomach rumbled at the thought and she pushed the fears away.

She came up to a stop in front of a one-story building with red roofs marred by algae. The rains had turned the white paint greyish green at the very bottom and the roofs were a dark shade of olive green in many places. Mahogany, teak and plantain trees made up for most of her back yard, towering over the house and providing the perfect shade. Her front yard split into red and white interlocked concrete tiles and the remaining area filled with chilies and tapioca plants. Monsoon was late this year. Her flowers were dying, she thought wistfully.

She spotted an extra pair of sandals on the steps, and froze.

Guests? No, no, no. This was a terrible time.

Laughter spilled out and a booming voice echoed as she stepped in and spotted four pairs of eyes stare back at her.

"Anya Mol," a booming voice spoke and she grimaced. She quickly forced herself to smile, lest her worries leak out.

How could this day get any worse?

"Hello Prithvi," she went up to him and gave him a side hug. A little boy jumped on the cushiony sofas as his mother scolded him and took hold of him. "When did you arrive? Just now?"

Her brother just had to be here, and ruin things for her.

"Half an hour back," he smiled warmly at her. "How are things? Still looking to set up businesses?"

Here we go, again.

"Yes," she gritted her teeth. What does it matter to you, anyways? Aren't you fucking happy with a nuclear family?

"How's that working out for you?" He took the kid from his wife's lap and settled the boy onto his.

"Anya, dear," her mother called from the kitchen, cups and spoons clanging together, as she hurried about.

Anya didn't respond and went in, looking around. "You didn't tell me Prithvi was coming today."

"Well, he's your brother, honey!" she exclaimed. "Of course, he can pop in at any time."

"Yes, but" she sighed, leaning against the wall and then moving to help her mom. "Do I need to buy snacks?"

"No, we have banana chips over there on the shelf. Second from left. Will you get those on a plate?"

She opened the shelf and saw the packet her mom mentioned, emptying the contents onto a ceramic plate, but not before popping a handful into her mouth. "I just wish people would inform us before coming. Isn't it hectic for you?"

Her mother waved her hand, setting the cups onto a plastic tray. "It is not. You missed lunch."

"I know. I had some work," she responded quietly but her mother was already out of the kitchen by then, and serving them tea. Anya placed the snacks onto the teapoy and watched them gobble it up.

They chatted while her mind roamed to the girl with brown eyes so vivid with a glare that could send people running. She loathed her. Did she think Anya was any less just because she was a florist?

"So she's still wasting her time?" her brother's voice cut through the silence.

Anya turned to look at him sharply. "I am not. I'm trying to see if I can expand my business."

He shook his head, pausing to drink a sip and then continuing. "I am sure floristry is big here. How are you going to survive without mom and dad helping you?"

She remained silent as she looked at her mother.

"Oh, we have been telling her, mone," her mother sighed, arms crossed and looking a little sad. "We told her to find a more lucrative job."

"Mom! How could you say that? You know floristry is my gift, don't you think I should pursue that?" Anya spoke in a measured tone, but she felt thorns prick at her sides.

"I know, sweetie, I just wish you were..." she looked away. "More gifted in another area. Like medicine. Do you think you could use your gift for that? We could certainly use the money to pay off your education loans."

"I don't want this," she said, walking out of the house. Roses with no flowers grew as she stepped out, turning the tiles into a bed of pure thorns as her mother tried to rush after her but stopped immediately.

"Anya! Come back here!" her mother shouted for her but it fell on deaf ears.

She felt her wrist being tugged and looked at her brother who looked at her sternly. He had probably come out through the kitchen's back door and ran after her. "Mom has a point, don't you think? Besides, you're already twenty-five and-"

"Oh fuck off," she wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. "Don't you dare. I will pay my own debts off, okay? Stop."

"How long? You know you won't get money by selling flowers now. The season time is two months away," he coaxed her. "What else are you doing?"

She didn't respond and she imagined thorns pricking his skin and feet for a while, before hastily erasing the image.

"Tuitions," she said quietly. "I teach botany for students who need help."

He sighed and leaned against his car. Of course he got the biggest car he could buy. "You had to get the Innova didn't you?"

"That's what you're worried about?" he asked incredulously. "I'll let you drive-"

"Let me?" she pointed a finger at his chest. "I don't want your goddamn cardboard box."

*** 

She stomped all the way to her mushroom hut. The roof was dome shaped and her mother helped her build it, four years back. She was probably regretting her decision, Anya thought. It was a cosy, tiny place with moss floors and walls. She sighed in content as she took off her sandals and her feet sunk into the soft moss, enveloping her tired feet. Rows of wooden cabinet shelves were propped against the wall, filled with vials, glass bottles, beakers and tiny bottles. All of them were neatly labelled. It was a stark contrast to everything else–the table was a mess, her bed wasn't made and lots of books were haphazardly spread out. There were dead leaves she hadn't brushed away farther up the corner.

"Some peace, finally" she mused, slumping on the chair. Thangam, her metal seahorse which floated around, rested on one of the shelves and dozed away. She smiled at it, and then thought about her current problem.

Her flower cart stood outside, abandoned, and she hoped she wouldn't have to use it after today.

I thought I would have more space, and more to...do, she felt her spirits sink.

Giving up was not an option, now. She had no plans but opened the door and eyed her wooden cart. She kicked the wheel in annoyance, wanting to scream and tear her hair apart.

That hazel-brown-eyed girl with honey in her eyes. The cause of everything she worked for.

She grabbed her essential things, the cart, the flowers she had carefully plucked from her garden the other day, jasmines and marigolds in full bloom, and her blue tarpaulin sheet to set it up.

Anger drove her forward, and it was only until she was in front of the building that she paused, took a deep breath and noticed something. She was tired. So, so tired.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she steadied herself and then set her cart up right in front of the shop.

I'll probably be thrown out for this. Well, not technically.

It was searing hot. The sun blazed on her skin as she finished setting up the tarpaulin sheet to offer at least some protection from the heat.

She fanned herself, internally cursing herself for not bringing a bottle of water. Looking at the white building behind her she was tempted to go in and allow herself a blast of A.C and ask for water. They were sure to have a dispenser. Things seemed to be still in the works, but they were sure to have the basics.

I can't handle this. I'd rather die with earthworms crawling up my feet rather than face her.

"Why hello, there" a smooth voice made her glance up and she had to squint to see the person, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"It's you," her voice betrayed her. It cracked and she gripped the cart for support.

"Of course, I run this shop, where else do you think I would be?" Kaynath laughed and then leaned against the wall. "But, I don't treat my guests like this. Do you want to come in and have a drink? Find something sweet to your liking?"

"I'm good. I'm not a guest," she watched her flowers and looked at the shopping complex opposite. People came out carrying huge paper bags, fanning themselves as they rushed to find the nearest spot to find cool drinks.

Anya yelled while waving her hand. "Flowers! Jasmines and marigolds for the upcoming Onam!"

A few stopped and looked at her curiously and some of them paused but nobody approached her. She felt her heart burn in embarrassment with Kaynath watching her. Was she judging her?

"Give it up, honey," Kaynath's laughter cut through the humid air. "I could complain about this. You're technically in front of my shop."

"Oh stop," Anya rolled her eyes. "You think you're the best because you're expanding? I'm sure you haven't even done a single thing of your own, yet."

Kaynath's smile shrivelled like poorly watered roses before she scowled.

How could someone so beautiful be so fucking ruthless? Anya thought and then shook her head to clear it. She absolutely hated her judgmental attitude.

"Why don't you set it somewhere else? I already told you, we're renting this building and nothing is going to change," she sounded exasperated by now. "Unless you have even more money to offer, which you clearly don't."

Anya's smile only widened like a Cheshire cat. "Why don't we split the shop? And whoever gets the most sales after a month can keep it to themselves?"

She knew she was pushing it. But god forbid, she was getting tested way too much and she had had enough of it.

Kaynath didn't say anything for a long, long time. In truth, Anya was scared she would call Varkey and make a big scene. She would be ousted or worse, have to go back home again, with shame written all over her face.

"Let's ask Varkey if he agrees," she said. She tried to keep her tone neutral but Anya saw something flicker in her eyes that was gone all too quickly. Her brown eyes glinted hazel and they had fire in them. Or was she just imagining it?

Either way, she never backed down from a challenge.  

***

Looking for more ONC recommendations to read? This one is by a friend of mine, faerie_nellas . If you love fantasy, then Take a Chance is for you

The odds are stacked up against him. 2 out of 3 options mean certain death. The third option comes at the price of his heart. Watch Blake defy the world when he is moved from one prison to another. Will he earn his freedom or stay shackled forever?