𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓣𝓸 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 ♾️

✨BROKEN BUT NOT DEFEATED-CHAPTER-20

"How was the function, ma?" she asked Nithya with a sleepy smile.

"Fine, athai," Nithya lied, smiling that plastic smile no one deserves to wear.

Amma yawned and patted her cheek. "Lock the door, ma. I'm going to sleep." And just like that, she disappeared into her room, locking the door behind her.

I looked at Nithya. Her face looked tired from the weight of everything that had happened. I wanted to hold her, say something. But the words were stuck behind the storm in my chest.

"I'll bathe and come, ma," I said casually. 

She just nodded. Soft. Silent.

I walked into our room, shut the bathroom door, and stripped off. My skin still burned from the stares, the whispers. I poured a mug of water on my head and let it run down—like maybe, just maybe, it would wash away the way they made me feel.

Like nothing.

Like I was  a bank-loan burden, and dont know how to live a life and gain assets.

How could they speak like that? About my wife? The woman who saw me when I had nothing and still chose to love me like I was everything?

I wiped myself down, wore my white wifebeater and tied my lungi. My eyes searched the room for Nithya, heart already reaching out.

But she wasn't there.

Her saree was folded neatly on the side table. Her bangles were in their usual tray. Her bindi stuck to the mirror.

I stepped out.

And I found her.

In the kitchen.

The soft sizzle of dosa batter meeting hot pan broke the silence.

There she was—my Nithya—wearing her faded nightgown, hair tied up in a messy bun, eyes focused, as if making dosa was more important than breaking down.

My throat closed up.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her quietly.

God didn't give me much. No money. No house. No status.

But He gave me her.

And that's why He made me wait. Her anklet chimed once when she moved. Just once.

But it hit me harder than any slap ever could.

She didn't ask me if I was okay. She didn't question why I was silent. She just did what she always does—she gave.

Like the world hadn't tried to strip everything from her hours ago.

She turned, saw me leaning there.

And smiled.

"Ennanga... come. Let's eat."

Just like that. Soft. Normal. Like we didn't just walk out of a warzone where her worth was questioned and my pride was spat on.

I followed her like a schoolboy. My legs were moving, but my soul felt like it had been left back in that hall, curled on the floor next to my self-respect.

She made me sit on the couch. The fan above hummed. Somewhere outside, a dog barked and a scooter passed.

Everything felt loud and silent at the same time.

I kept my eyes low. I had to. If I met her gaze, I knew it would all come out. The anger. The shame. The ache of watching someone insult the woman I worship like temple gold.