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Chapter 3

"I am glad that you are. She has done so much for the family, she works hard, cooks food, cleans the house, takes care of you. After your mom died I did not know how to manage with you. But she changed everything. I owe it to her. We owe it to her. Please respect her." He repeated. He does that every time my mom complains to him.

And I like an autopilot with my imaginary ear pods in my ears try to filter his words because I know this is my mom speaking.

"Now go get the mugs," he said rather ordered.

That's when I realized that my mom would be yelling at me again to pick up the kettle and utensils again.

I picked the tray and followed him.

When I was about to leave I heard them talking and couldn't control the eaves dropping.

Hey it was unintentional because I had to immediately call that Rai, Raj whatever and deny the plans and I had to do it at the earliest.

Working in the kitchen I had almost forgotten about it weary of the words my mother greeted me in the morning.

"Did you get any reply from that guy from Delhi?" my mom asked.

"No. I guess they need time." My father replied I could hear the shuffling of newspaper that he was reading as he talked along.

"Or they are trying not to be rude to deny openly." my mother opinioned.

"Why do you think so?" my father asked.

"Imagine the guy is so handsome and he studied in Amriicaa. Why would he like a girl looking like Pari, only her name is Pari."

Ouch that hurt but I should have been used to it by now.

"I guess you are right. We are fake hoping." My father seconded.

"I tell you my brother's son is the best prospect for her." My mother suggested.

I scrunched my nose. Where was the conversation going?

"Your brother's son?" I guess my father and me were on same note.

"Oh his adoptive son Ram." My mom said and the ground shifted from my knees. I shivered at the thought and the tray fell along with the kettle and the mugs and crackling of the glass mirrored my world crashing down.

'I thought he is servant of..." my father stopped as my mother's critical yelling started "I told you she is good for nothing, cannot even hold a tray. God knows who'll marry her. I tell you Ram not only works for my brother; he is his adoptive son. He won't even mind marrying Pari and she can visit here also often."

I quickly picked up the broken pieces of the glass even though I cut my already shivering hands and ran.

I needed to breathe. I needed to be out of here.

######

Breakfast fortunately was uneventful for I cooked porridge both my parent's favorite with another mug of hot and boiling tea so that none could complain.

However I did notice exchange of words between my parents and knew they were talking about my marriage making the hair on my neck rise.

"Pari don't forget the clothes in the dryer, Deya might need them for her school." My mother shouted from her room and I took a deep sigh. I was already running late.

But I had to do it. There was no escape or you may say that I had stopped fighting.

I had stopped fighting ages ago after I was bejeweled with the scars on side of my waist.