Knots Without Strings

2

Myra was curled up on the sofa upstairs, eyes glued to the television. The movie had reached a crucial moment—Romeo was finally about to propose to Juliet under the moonlit sky. Her lips curved in a faint smile; she had waited for this scene.

Then, a loud shout split through the house.

"Myra!"

The sharpness of her husband's voice echoed up the stairs, bouncing off the walls.

Myra closed her eyes and sighed. She didn't need to guess—her mother-in-law must have already poured half her grievances into Raj's ears before even calling her down. 

Reluctantly, Myra picked up the remote and switched off the TV. The black screen reflected her face, calm but faintly annoyed. 

She rose slowly, smoothing the wrinkles of her kurta, and made her way downstairs.

The hall felt charged, like a courtroom waiting for the accused.

On the main sofa sat her father-in-law, Dayanand Khurana, his arms crossed, his stare fixed on her like a judge who had already reached a verdict. Kriti was by his side, her eyes soft with pity, as if silently apologizing on behalf of the family.

Her mother-in-law stood stiffly, face arranged into an expression of disappointment, though Myra knew it was more performance than pain.

But it was her husband's eyes that unsettled her. His jaw was clenched, his fists tight by his sides, his whole body radiating impatience.

The moment he spotted her, his voice lashed out again. "Can't you walk faster? Do you think I have all day to wait for you?"

Myra's eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to half past nine. She lifted her chin slightly. "Then I suppose I should thank you for spending your precious time on me."

The room froze.

Kriti flinched, her face paling at the daring jab. Dayanand's glare deepened, and Manoma's nostrils flared, her disappointment sharpening into open anger.

Raj's face darkened further, his chest rising and falling heavily as if he were holding back words that might explode any second.

Just then, the front door opened. Kavita Devi, her younger sister-in-law, entered with her husband Rishabh. Kavita's eyes darted from Raj to Myra, then to her mother in law, reading the tension instantly. Her lips parted, as though she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent.

Rishabh, however, didn't bother hiding his reaction. His lips curved into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes as he looked at Myra. It was as though he were watching a play he had been waiting for.

Myra caught his gaze. Instead of lowering hers, she met his smirk with a small, knowing smile of her own—calm, composed.

Myra turned  offered him a polite smile, her tone calm, almost affectionate.
"Good to see you're also home sometimes, Devar ji."

Rishabh's smirk faltered instantly. His eyes narrowed as he snapped, "I have many responsibilities, unlike you. I  work."

Myra tilted her head as though she were pondering his words seriously, then replied with a softness that carried a sting.
"Of course. Such a generous man you are—working all the time, and yet never taking any payment. That must mean you're giving all your earnings away. Perhaps to an orphanage?"

The words landed like a quiet slap. Rishabh stiffened, his jaw locking as anger spread across his face. He inhaled sharply, ready to lash back.

But before he could, Raj's sharp voice sliced through the tension.
"Enough!" His hand shot up, palm raised as if to physically cut the moment in half.