I wasn't sure it was me or the Aloo Paratha, but it just didn't go down my throat. The mint chutney, ketchup and even the chai didn't help. In the end I gave up, I brought the untouched breakfast back to the kitchen once I was sure Mr. Singh was no longer in the house.
"Are you not feeling well?" The maid, a thirty year old round lady asked me.
"Just a bit under the weather," I answered as I walked out the kitchen. I took some time as I observed the house that I lived in. It had been more than six months yet it was as foreign to me as the night I had arrived here.
I picked up the toy that laid by the foot of the chair Sana had been sitting on. The stuffed elephant was not even a month old, its outer fabric was bright and his button eyes made it adorable to play with. I decided to carry it back into Sana's room.
As I trailed my fingers along the wall while I climbed up the stairs, my fingers met with the photos hanging on it. Numerous times had my gaze fell on them but I'd never really looked at them. They all seemed rather personal.
The pictures were of young Sana, Mr. Singh sporting an effortless smile that I had never seen and Sana's mother.
All I knew was that she succumbed to breast cancer two years ago, leaving a very small daughter behind. A daughter that needed the nurture of a mother's love.
My eyes grazed through her picture and took in her details. Her high cheek bones gave an ageless look. The banarasi saree she wore was stunning and her eyes were thickly lined with kohl. She looked... like a royal princess.
She could wear authority as an ornament and power as her crown.
I stood mesmerized as her portrait captured my attention. Questions started springing in my mind as I kept looking in into her eyes.
How was their marriage? How was she as a wife? How was Mr. Singh as a husband? How was she as a mother?
Would I ever be able to take her place in Sana's life?
The questions bombarded my conscience and I forced myself to walk back to my room. I needed to focus and let go of my past before I dug into someone else's.
I heaved a sigh as I flopped down on the bench near the window of my room. The morning sun felt nice on my skin, the neighbors were planning yet another party as I spotted their maid fixing lights in the garden.
I closed my eyes but it seemed like a mistake because in the next moment a chill spread over my scalp. It felt like cold fingers caressing my head, playing with my hair.
My angel...
Gasping, I snapped my eyes open and jumped from my seat. The feeling lingered and it was so suffocating that I couldn't even scream. My throat was logged and my heart felt like it was over working.
I caught my face in the mirror and realized that I looked scared. The fear clearly evident in my eyes was ever present. The dullness of my face didn't hide the fact that I barely looked alive.
After all who would've want to be alive?
A part of me was gone forever. Now, all I felt was a big gaping hole in my life and heart. The void was so hard to fill, I tried, I tried so hard.
I tried taking my own life, I tried joining Vansh in the after-life. But I never succeded. His absence was eating me alive.
I guess my parents were happy. Their daughter, who ran away with a man she loved, lost her husband within a week of her marriage. They probably think I deserved it.
And so when they tried to marry me off, I didn't mind. I was done running and fighting. I just needed peace in any way I could get. I had lost Vansh forever; what could be worse than that?
And when Mr. Singh walked in with a small Sana clung to his arms, I couldn't take my eyes off her. I saw myself in her. Someone who had lost their most loved one and yet were here on this planet living and breathing.
Sana was so young that my heart ached for her. I knew she needed me just the way I needed her. So, with a half empty suitcase I agreed to a second marriage that was arranged for me.
But my main requirement was only one. To be the mother Sana needed right now. So that was what I became. Around her I would indulge in her stories and forget my worries. At night when I returned to my room, the memories would haunt me back and so I would swallow sleeping pills to get rid of them.
But there were times like these when I still felt him around me, calling out to me. As much as I wanted to believe they were true, they were a painful reminder that I survived..... and he didn't.
They call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's not so difficult to understand. Every waking second of your life is spent in the guilt that you survived and he didn't.
The man who made my knees weak and my heart light. The man who I was supposed to grow old with. The man with whom I was supposed to have two kids and a dog.
All gone in a dreadful minute on the highway.
I wish I hadn't survived that night.
As I looked at myself in the mirror, tears didn't come down. I was drained of them. My skin was deprived of his loving touch, my eyes didn't have the fortune of looking at him now. My hair no longer had soft fingers weaving through them.
My entire body felt.... Hollow. Beaten. Tired. Useless.
Looking back at my reflection I made my mind again. I opened the drawer and rummaged through it until I finally the card Mr. Singh had given. The card I hadn't put to use yet.
It was time now.
***
As I stepped through the house door, my stomach turned into knots. There was this satisfying feeling blooming in my chest, the way you feel when a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. But a trickle of nervousness was there as my steps inched forward. How would they react?
Not everyone. Just Sana.
Mr. Singh and I never really exchanged words.
Taking a deep breath, I entered the living room.
"Sana," I called out of habit. Four pairs of eye turned to me and the tiny one with pigtails had my rapt attention.
Sana's face which had a broad smile due to my voice calling out to her suddenly froze. She looked at me with a face devoid of any emotions as if processing what was in front of her. I gently made my way to her ignoring the curious stares of Mr. Singh and Ms. D'Souza.
With a thumping heart, I bent my knees and kneeled in front of her.
"Hey," I breathed while placing my hands on her delicate shoulder.
"Wh...Where did ....where did your hair go?" She asked, confusion written all across her face.
I spurted out a dry chuckle as I patted my hair, "It's right here. Just shorter"
Hesitantly, she raised her hand and touched my head and traced the strands of my hair but they stopped once they reached my shoulder.
I tried to smile at her but a look of disbelief crossed her face. Her small frame inched away from me and the feeling was close to someone pouring ice water over my head.
The hurt that ripped through my chest was making my head spin. Everything was slipping from my fingers.
Sana looked like I took away the one thing in her life that mattered the most to her. I wanted to remind her that it was still me. I was still here and that this change wasn't going to affect anything between us.
"You're leaving us, aren't you?" She spoke in whisper with eyes that looked so heartbroken that I had the urge to just curl up in a ball and weep.
"No, baby, I'll always be here," I took a step forward but the refusal in her eyes caught me by surprise.
"You'll go away just like her," Sana voiced and the next moment she had turned around and ran upstairs.
"Sana, wait!" I shouted as I rose from my position but she had disappeared from my line of sight.
Heart broken and desperate my eyes met the concerned eyes of Mr. Singh.
I am sorry, I wanted to say.
But when we both heard the door upstairs slam hard into the wall, my legs sprang into action. Mr. Singh and I lunged for the stairs at the same time.
***
Uh-oh 🥺
What's happening in this house :(
Also, if anyone knows someone who makes covers, please leave some suggestions in the comments.
I'm asking this for the new story that I'm working on.
Planning to post the final part once this book hits 10k reads♥️