"Mr. Raichand, happy independence day. You have been eating my head since day one to get these papers signed and today I have finally granted your wish. You hated seeing my face, and I have decided to never show it again," she said, and instead of b...
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"Rejected" She shook her head from side to side.
"No," he dismissed.
"Yuck" she made a face.
"No way in hell"
"Naah!" The father and daughter duo were getting to my sanity now. Sprawled on an elite sofa in a designer boutique, with his arm looped around her tiny shoulders, all they did was convert me into a model. Since the last hour, they rejected every goddamn outfit that came under the best of the best category of the famous stylist. I threw a look at them for rejecting the A-line knee-length mauve dress. They found the color boring. Can you believe this?
I glared at the designer, who was giving them a frustrated look because it was a part of her job. If she kept looking at my husband and my daughter that way, I might purchase the brand and replace her with a more professional lady.
'As if she hasn't tolerated your man's tantrums for the past hour,' my conscience mocked.
'Frankly, he could pull all the tantrums up his sleeves and I would still be on his side' I shunned my mind.
The next was a short denim dungaree paired with a trendy sweetheart white blouse that landed way above my knees. My fingers maneuvered over the cotton fabric analyzing its thick surface. Smooth.
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(Meera's dress 🔼)
The woman looking back in the mirror didn't look like the 33-year-old lady who had overflowing responsibilities on her shoulders but a girl in her 20s who wanted to enjoy life. The one who was carefree and untainted by the miseries of life. Truth be told, I seldom avoided such dresses because they made me forget my dark reality and also because everyone took me as available. Initially, many did because they kept dropping subtle hints about a woman without a surname with a daughter who might have been too needy to give her virtue for the sake of money. Back in time, I didn't really care and today I don't have a reason to care for what they think, but their eyes took me back to a past I wanted to put behind. The image of Steve hovering over me while his eyes feasted on my visible thighs made me feel like a commodity, but it went away the moment Kabir's words of passion came to my mind. He was always there in my head, whatever the situation might be. Anyway, it wasn't the time to think of scoundrels like Steve, but this feeling of getting a bubbly teenager look which was my favorite in the past didn't settle well with me. I didn't own a single pair of sundresses anymore because they reminded me of roaming hand-in-hand with a man I had no future with.
