REPLACEMENT WIFE (Short Story) [THE MARTYR WIVES BOOK 1]

25. THE END (part 1)

SARISHA

I stood in front of my mirror, setting my night routine of basic moisturizer, and running my hand across my face in a slow and upward motion, the buzzing of my cell phone on the nightstand created an irritating noise.

"Vidyut! You are getting a call?" I called him, but the water running inside was heavy. The phone stopped buzzing but repeated again, after a brief moment.

"Vidyut, your phone is ringing," The voice inside the bathroom was rather quiet now, I sighed and walked up to the nightstand, picking up the cell phone, it was the king calling him.

At this time? I wondered in my head, but I ignored it.
I stepped to hand him the phone over, when the call ended and the name that showcased on the top of the screen, Shrushti.

Made my steps falter, and standing me still, I carefully went through the words,

07:53 pm

Sir, please meet me on the rooftop. Right now.

My eyes lingered on the time, and then down towards the word. I stood blinking.
There was a whirlwind of emotions in my chest but I could acknowledge none.

Was it the pain of reviving what happened with my sister before she died? Or was it betrayal I felt for Vidyut is the one who conducted those atrocities? If it was dread of what my sister must have felt? Or was it disgust inside of me that I have lived and loved the same man who ruined my sister?

I felt footsteps inside the room from the bathroom door, my eyes trailed above, him standing in his night kurta and pants, and met his face and he found mine with equal disruption settled in his deep eyes.
"You were the last person who met Shrushti,"

The word escaped me, exact at eight I was supposed to step outside and sit next to Baba to help him with the ceremonies, and I had stepped outside that day, and from one foot to concrete and another directly in my sister's blood.

So much drowned that day.
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. And stepping backwards, "Vidyut? How could you?" A slow muffle from the voiceless throat managed to speak.

I felt like several needles were being poked in my head at this current moment, I held my head tightly and shook myself harder to feel less hurt, my gut was twisting, and my chest was hurting.

Since day one, I have hit Vidyut on his chest, when I felt this pain, but today? I am too disgusted to touch him.
To even look at him.

"Sarisha?" He called me softly, and his words stricken me and slammed me on my face, when he completed, "You won't be able to blame your age, for the vulgar and abominable responsibility you are beholding me for." he warned me.

How dare he warn me?

Shame should be towering at his height, how can he stand his shoulders widen the same way he was proudly listening over my sister's dead body that day.

I opened my eyes witnessing him with pure disgust and wiped my tears,
He kept his finger on his lips, and he shushed me.
"If you say anything? You are going to regret it! Sarisha, don't utter a word. I might forgive you for accusing me of something so delirious, but I have spoken since the beginning, there are limitations to my patience." His words were calm, and mature.

But inside me was a broken combat one that screamed that he was my opposition, one I should be striving for with merciless kills.
"I don't give a single fuck of your sister's death wish. I was ready to take the hit of your hatred and your disgust but I am not ready to settle with your contempt and loathing, and condemning me for something I didn't do." He said with his face scrunched and stepped towards me.