Short Fi... | My Aunty -2025- Feniapp Originals

SHAKIL (25, soft-spoken, modern but grounded) sits on an old plastic chair. The skyline is cluttered with half-finished buildings and a few glittering high-rises. He holds a cup of tea. Beside him, a worn-out nakshi kantha (embroidered quilt) is draped over the railing.

She pauses. Takes the box. Opens it.

My Aunty – 2025 Format: Short Film Script / Monologue (approx. 3–5 mins) Platform Style: FeniApp Originals (emotional, raw, family-centric) [SCENE OPEN] BLACK SCREEN Text appears: “Dedicated to the women who raise us without asking for anything in return.”

AUNTY SHIRIN (late 40s, resilient, warm but stern), wraps a pitha in a banana leaf. Young SHAKIL (12) sits on a wooden stool, doing homework. My Aunty -2025- FeniApp Originals Short Fi...

She turns. One look. He caves.

Aunty Shirin, now 58, grayer, slower. She’s scrolling on a cheap smartphone. A cracked screen. The FeniApp logo glows.

You carried me when my own… (pauses) You never made me feel like an orphan. Even when I was one. SHAKIL (25, soft-spoken, modern but grounded) sits on

My aunty doesn’t live in a smart home. She doesn’t have an AI assistant. But she knows exactly when I’m lying, when I’m hungry, and when I’ve forgotten to pray.

They sit side by side. No dramatic hug. Just her hand resting lightly on his head, blessing him. The city lights blur outside.

Silence. The ceiling fan hums.

(finally looks at him) You were never an orphan, Shakil. I just had two children. Not one.

(without looking up) Another phone? I told you—this one works fine.

“My Aunty – 2025” An Original Short by FeniApp Originals Beside him, a worn-out nakshi kantha (embroidered quilt)

For every aunty who became a mother. For every child she never let fall.