Expressing anger without causing emotional or physical damage is a powerful skill ~ Maya Malhotra
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Vedant and Maya signed the contract before I took it with me, assuring me that if I wanted to change the terms, they would agree. But they wanted to show me that they would sign first. They wanted to keep their part of the bargain, unconditionally.
The terms were explicit, but clear. They promised no violence, no beatings, no mental games or abuse. No sexual acts in whatever conceivable way.
It was bleak, and confronting. It was very clear. I had nothing to add.
Maya notices how red my eyes are from crying when I give her the paper on Tuesday morning, after the others have gone to school. My own copy is up in my room, in my suitcase. I have not signed my part of the deal. Too much has happened yesterday. I need some time to recuperate. I hope they will understand this.
"I am so proud of you," Maya says. "You are doing so well, do you know that?"
I don't believe her. Her words sound alien in my ears.
"I'll put this upstairs in the safe. Come with me, we can do it together."
It's almost like a ceremony as we walk up the stairs and into Vedant's office. Maya removes a painting and opens the safe that is hidden behind it. She turns and smiles at me. "It has been a rough start. Let this signal the real beginning of your stay here."
I nod, and she smiles. "I don't think you were expecting this when you arrived last Saturday."
At this, I laugh, for real. I can't help it. She's so right. I didn't know what to expect and there was a lot I was prepared for, but it certainly wasn't this.
It feels strange to laugh like this. I haven't done it for so long, it feels peculiar indeed.
Maya laughs with me and seems to understand why I am laughing myself. "I hope we will live up to your expectations."
Again, she baffles me with her words. Shouldn't it be the other way round?
I follow her to the kitchen again, where she starts to make coffee. "So, what do you want to do today?" she asks without looking up.
I don't know, really. I'm dreadfully tired still, and my head and throat hurt. I haven't slept all that well last night. It was horrifying to lie in the bed and I couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. When I finally slept, I kept waking up from disturbing, chaotic dreams, not knowing where I was. I went out of bed a couple of times to check if the door was still locked, and my body woke me a few times more because I was terribly nauseous.
"You will have to keep calm, of course," Maya says as she pours the steaming black liquid into two cups. "Black, I take it?"
She never asked me this before, I think now and nod. Black and strong. Please.
Maya sits at the kitchen table and gestures for me to follow her. I do, albeit hesitantly, and sit diagonally from her. I still don't understand how everything works here. It's just so... at ease. When I arrived at Rajeev, it was clear from the first day which household chores would be my responsibility. Both Rajeev and Sonia were very clear in what they expected of me. Both Rajeev and Sonia were very clear when I did something they didn't like. They were relatively nice at first. No constant threats, just clear rules. Before the end of the second day, they hit my head the first time. Funny, I don't even remember why that was.
Returning to the present, I look at the worn wood of the table before me. It really is a pretty table. I hold my hands in my lap and only realize I'm wringing them when the tiny wounds I made on Sunday start to hurt.
Maya tries to catch my attention with her gaze before she speaks again. "You can do anything you want. You can even go back to bed if you feel like it. You look tired." She frowns a little when she says this, obviously worried. "Did you not sleep well?"
No, not really. I shake my head minutely. I don't want Maya to know these things about me.
"That's a shame. I hope you will be able to sleep soundly here, soon." The worry in her eyes unsettles me, although I don't understand why.
I swallow, frowning, and look at the coffee before me. As Maya looks away, purposefully, I take my chance. Very carefully, I take a sip of the coffee. Delicious. When I swallow, it seems to burn right through my throat though and it hurts like hell.
Fuck.
Maya doesn't ask any further, but does continue her conversation. "You can go into the library, I'm confident we'll have books to your liking, although you'll probably have a lack of concentration with the concussion. You know you are free to go anywhere, right?"
I keep my focus on the mug of coffee in front of me. I can't seem to stop wringing my hands. I'm not comfortable with Maya's questions. Why does she ask so much?
Not really waiting for an answer, she catches me off guard with her next request. "Tell me what you want, Riddhima. Please." She leans forward across the table, her hand stretched out towards me a little.
I look up at her, eyes big with dread at the prospect of having to communicate these things that make me vulnerable. Besides, I wouldn't even know what I want, except perhaps lie down and forget the world around me. Why doesn't she give me anything to do? Surely, in a house this big work is never done?
Maya has produced a piece of paper and a pen out of nowhere and now slides them towards me on the table. "Please, talk to me."
Oh, no, I'd really rather not do this. I just don't want this. Or maybe I can't, even. Making words makes me nauseous. I start to stand from the table, desperate to get away from here. Fuck the consequences.
Rajeev never made me talk. He tried once...
"No, please don't worry, Riddhima," Maya says quickly, interrupting that dangerous train of thoughts. "I didn't want to push you, I just want to make you comfortable. Please," she pleads. "I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do."
Her eyes are sincere, or so it seems. Is she really serious? After a long moment of hesitation, I sit back down again. The world is still easier to handle when I'm sitting down. It's a lot less wobbly, at least.
God, still so dizzy...
"I just thought that if you told me what you wanted to do, I could maybe help you with that," Maya explains.
She tumbles over her words to clarify herself, to justify her behaviour. This is so strange, it's like all the roles are reversed here. In the world I know, I have always been the one to explain my behaviour, going to great lengths to please others and not set them off. Here, it's like everybody is walking on tiptoes to make sure I'm comfortable. Which makes me exceptionally uncomfortable, to put it lightly.
We sit quiet for a long moment, looking at each other. I can see nothing but kindness radiating off Maya, and it still confuses the hell out of me. Why is she so kind? Is it even normal for people to be this kind?
That thought unsettles me so much I have to blink and look away.
I'm uncomfortable here, sitting with Maya at this table. I know I've done it before, but now she is expecting something of me and I don't know if I can give it to her. I don't even know what I want. Looking back up at Maya, I can see her hopeful eyes.
My loathing for communicating must show on my face when I pick up the pen and the piece of paper. I grit my teeth against the effort of scribbling something down.
Tell me what I can do for you.
"What? Why? You're injured, Riddhima. You need to stay calm. Besides, I am in charge of this household and I have decided that none of my children, none of them, are forced to help out."
Her indignation is clear in her voice as well as on her face. Her expression changes as she thinks for a moment and continues to speak in a completely different tone. "I know you don't want to talk about this, Riddhima, but please hear me out. I have read your file and I know what you have been through. I can't even begin to imagine what your life before must have been like. But I want you to know that you will not meet any violence here. We didn't sign that contract for nothing. And we certainly don't expect you to do anything here. What you can do for me, is try to relax a little and in time, you can start healing."
My head whips up - and my balance topples over - at that last comment. Healing? Is she fucking kidding me? What's there to heal? Just when I started to believe that they will indeed not beat me into oblivion, the next horror crashes down on me. Heal me.
Oh, my God, I should have known this.
Take in the broken girl and fix her. Surely they'll get a kick out of that.
But I am not broken.
I am malformed.
Thus I cannot be healed.
There is nothing to heal.
I have deserved anything and everything that I have had coming my way.
I stand up, ignoring Maya's pleads and protests. I can't do this. Tears well up and leave my eyes before I can stop them and just to further my humiliation, I sniffle.
"Riddhima, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
Her sincerity makes me pause and look up at her. Standing up has reawakened my headache and a nasty head rush washes over me. I grip the back of the chair for support as I wait for the worst of the throbbing to stop.
"Riddhima, please sit down and help me understand why you are upset."
The sternness in her voice makes me look back at her.
"I want to get to know you, Riddhima. You live with us now and we have to do it together. I don't expect you to sit down and tell me everything, but clearly my words upset you and that hurts me."
I blink in utter confusion. Why does she want to know me? To use that knowledge against me? And how can my mood hurt her?
"Won't you sit down?"
I shake my head minutely, slowly.
"But will you stay with me for now?"
This time, I nod. She asks so kindly and she looks hurt, indeed. I want to know how I can make that better. I'm still gripping the back of the chair for support and the sharp edges of the wood cut into my hand. The pain is a nice distraction from the turmoil in my mind.
Maya nods, relieved, and thinks for a long moment before she speaks. "We have signed that contract and we mean what is on it, Riddhima, although I fear only time will teach you that violence has no place in this house."
She waits for a moment, to see how I take this in. I'm waiting to see where she is going with this.
"We have also specified what we expect from you, and just by standing here and hearing me out, you are already fulfilling that expectation and more. Don't think I don't know what an effort it takes you to do this, I can see the tension in your hands."
We both look down at my hands, where the knuckles are white from the force I grip the back of the chair with.
"I want to ask you something, Riddhima."
Immediately wary, I press my lips into a thin line and wait, breath held.
Maya waits a moment, as if she's not sure if she should ask her question. "What do you expect of us?"
I let out my breath in a gust, tendrils of hair blowing away from my face with the escaping air.
What do I expect of them?
I don't know.
No, I do. But those expectations embody something like 'hope' and I'm not ready for that. After even four days, I would be devastated if things turned bad.
Maya sees I'm at a loss, but for once she doesn't push me. "I'll tell you what," she says. "Think about this and write it down. You can show it to us when you are ready."
She gets up and places her empty coffee mug in the dishwasher. I barely touched my coffee at all. "You can talk to us about everything and anything, Riddhima," Maya says when she turns back to me.
I know she means it to be reassuring, but her words freak me out a little. Before I can start to worry about what she said, she changes tack. "I will lay out some clothes for you later, as well as extra pyjamas. Don't feel guilty about staying in bed, because frankly I don't think Vedant would even approve you being up now. You must be feeling horrible."
My eyes widen when I hear the words 'Vedant,' 'wouldn't' and 'approve.' I look around me anxiously immediately, to see if he is home.
"No, Riddhima," Maya says hastily. "As a doctor, he wouldn't approve. You need to rest in order to heal. As a father, he just wants you to do what feels right for you right now."
While I'm momentarily frozen, trying to make sense of her words, she speaks again. "Go back to bed, Riddhima. I can see the effort it takes you to keep standing up straight." Her words are soft and her smile is kind, and when she gestures her hand to tell me I can indeed leave, I do.
I'm scared shitless, of course. But that bed in the guest room is calling my name. Loudly.
I can't help but wonder though if this is some kind of guise to lure me into my room, so she or Vedant can meet me there for whatever they want to do.
Then again, even my evil mind is having a hard time to believe that, frankly.
I make it to the guest room - my room - unharmed and unfollowed. Locking the door behind me, just in case, I pull out Renee's quilt and sink down in a corner of the room. I'm shaken. I don't know what to make of Maya's kindness. Does she really mean it? Will she always stay like this?
I want to believe her. But what do I expect of her? Of Vedant? Breathing in the fast fading scent of the quilt, I think back on what happened downstairs.
It's obvious that Maya wants to communicate with me, and they have said they want me to cooperate in that. But it's so fucking hard to do so. Every word is a struggle and if it were up to me, I'd just never use words at all. I never felt the need to, either. Renee was so easy on that, with purely yes or no questions or a range of options I could hold up the right amount of fingers to. Rajeev never really addressed me at all, at least not with questions. And Stefan... Stefan would always make clear what he wanted. Eventually. He rarely used words for that. He taught me it was better to be quiet.
To be silent.
I don't know if I will be able to meet the Malhotra's expectations. I don't know if I can. Will they send me back when I keep my distance? If I keep fucking up like I've done until now? Will they change their minds, get tired of me?
Oh, shit, will they?
If they send me back, I will just run. I'd rather live on the street or in a shelter than to go back to Rajeev. However horrible I am, however much I've done wrong, I do not want to go back there. I know I am useless, worthless, wanton even. Whatever happened to me, has been my own fault. I've been told so many, many times. And I don't see any other explanation. Because there isn't one. It's all me.
Right?
Ah, shit, this is useless. And I feel so useless here. I wish there was something I could do. Ironing the shirts felt good, until I fucked that up, of course. I wish I could make myself useful here. Hell, I'll even polish Maya's silverware for her. Maybe I should offer doing that. It's a task people generally tend to dislike.
I'm useless here, being in bed. Then again, Vedant wouldn't approve if he saw I was out, Maya said. Will she tell him? What will happen then? Will there be consequences? What does 'do not approve' mean in this household?
I try to divert my thoughts to prevent
anxiety attack, and my thoughts drift to how Maya addressed my past. She mustn't talk about my past. I don't know what she was getting at and I don't want to know. My reaction made that clear enough. What has happened, has happened and it was my own fault. I deserved it all. And I don't want to talk about it. I feel horrible even thinking about it. The beatings, I could take. Physical pain almost always subsides after a certain amount of time. Bruises heal, as do broken bones.
I finger the scar that adorns the palm of my right hand. This is the only scar that my birth mother has inflicted on me. I had been trying to tell her for the second, and last time what Stefan did to me at nights. The poker had been lying in the burning hearth and was white hot when she pulled it out and hit me with it. "Don't you ever talk about that!" I held out my hand to fend it off. The burning was excruciating, I remember the pain shooting straight up into my arm. I didn't know what to do with the wound and it never healed well. I still can't stretch out my hand fully, but I'm so used to it now I rarely notice the constriction. The palm of my hand is mostly numb, the scar is barely visible anymore.
I sigh, considering snapping the rubber band on my left wrist. The pain, when it comes, is sharp and punishing. It doesn't distract me from my memories. I force my thoughts to the present again.
Physical pain goes away and as such is bearable. It's not likeable, or desirable, but if it has to happen, I know that I will get through.
It's the emotional pain maybe that hurts, that tears at my insides and rips my soul to pieces. Stefan came to my room telling me that I should be grateful, for his discipline, for his lessons. He just taught me to be a good daughter, and all he did to me, I had brought onto myself. I remember wishing he would be more direct, instead of playing his games with me. With him, I never knew what would happen.
When I was placed with Rajeev and Sonia, I didn't expect my life to be much different. I already knew I was a horrible person. Insufferable to be around. Incurable. Rotten.
Rajeev told me that I already knew how it felt and that he knew what my stepfather had seen in me. I never understood what he meant. Rajeev told me I taunted him just by being around. Both Stefan and Rajeev acted for 'my own good.'
The humiliation of what they both did to me, what they made me do, shattered me. It still does. I feel the heat in my cheeks as memories flood me. God, I'm so ashamed. I must be a horrible person indeed to have deserved all this.
I learned to ask as little attention as possible, to act like I wasn't there. I made myself as small as I could, and I faded into almost nothing. I went quiet. Words never brought the relief they promised. They only brought hurt. The incident with the poker was the last time I uttered a sound. A scream. I never spoke again after that. Never cried out anymore. It was better that way. It still is.
So why all the Malhotras keep asking me questions and seem to be working their asses of to get my attention, is beyond me. I don't need it, I don't deserve it. Once the Malhotra kids learn of my past, they won't want anything to do with me. And that would be the best scenario, considering what they could do if they wanted to make my life miserable.
Best to keep my distance. I've learned now what happens when I let my guard down.
Heal me. I wonder what Maya thinks there is to heal. Every punishment I have received, I have deserved. As such, I can't be broken. I've been malformed in the first place.
And I will never be good enough to deserve love.
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks and it feels like the air is blown out of my chest.
I will never be loved.
Better learn to live with it.
But Maya is so kind to me... Her words and eyes and gentle smiles tug at the pit of my stomach. I don't know this feeling and I'm uneasy with it. The realization that I want Maya to be so kind with me is not uneasy, it's horrifying.
Wanting things only ever ends up in disappointment.
Shit, I really have to steel my guard here. I don't know what Maya is doing to me, but she's skilled at what she does. I don't know what I must do with this. How to fight it. What am I fighting, exactly?
And so I sit in the corner of the room, huddled in the quilt that represents Renee, and I worry. And I worry about the things I worry about, because all this is very, very new to me.
It scares me out of my wits, frankly. When I moved here, I knew my entire world was going to be put upside down. And I was prepared for an awful lot. But definitely not this.
It's like I am still in that current, floating in unpredictable waters, and my feet have not yet found any purchase on the ground. And I'm afraid that once I do, it'll turn out to be a swamp and I will get sucked in until I am swallowed whole.
No, best to keep floating and to try to keep my breathing under control, and my head above the water.
I wait until I am shaking with hunger and pain before I go downstairs again. I truly hope I will not run into Vedant, as it seems I can never know when the man is around, but I need food and medication. Surely, as a doctor he could never deny me that?
Maya isn't in the living room or in the kitchen. Excellent, that means she can't ask me any more questions and I can move around in relative peace.
I eat and have meds, undisturbed. Miracles happen, apparently. Turning to the dishwasher to clear away my stuff, I finally notice the note on the counter.
Riddhima, I'm so happy that you stayed with me in the kitchen.
I hope you have rested some.
Please don't feel obliged to do anything. You need to rest in order for your head to heal.
Pick out a movie if you want to. Come find me if you need me.
Love, Maya.
The irony is not lost on me.
Following her advice, I pick out a movie from the vast collection they have in the living room. The Shawshank Redemption - one of the few movies I know that doesn't hold any romance. Back up in the room, it takes a couple of minutes to figure out how the television system works. Then, finally, I get the movie to play and I crawl on the bed to watch.
I'm sleeping even before Andy Dufresne is convicted to life in prison.
I open my eyes by voices that resound through the house. Angre's booming voice becomes louder and louder as I can hear him walking heavily up the stairs, followed by a second, lighter pair of feet.
My door is closed and locked, that's why I manage to keep lying down, but barely. More shuffling feet, and voices that complain of the amount of homework that needs to be done.
I look at the television, that's back to replaying the animated menu again and again. I've been sleeping for almost four hours, I think. And Maya has let me.
Or maybe she's tried to wake me and I just didn't hear her.
Oops.
Perhaps I should go down, to check if everything is still all right. I don't want to upset Maya but I feel like I need to do something, then again I don't want to upset Vedant either and he doesn't want me out of bed.
Shit.
I'm groggy, and rumpled, and altogether in a bad mood, maybe. I wait a little longer, waiting until I am sure the hallway is empty, before I suck up the courage to go down and face the rest of the household. Gritting my teeth, I put the movie back into the case and go downstairs.
Maya is nowhere to be seen, again. The entire floor appears to be empty. I walk into the living room and place the movie back into the exact same spot I retrieved it earlier. Turning back, I think I might use this opportunity to get some food again. I'm hungry as hell, which is new to me.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see that I am not alone in the room. Vansh is on the couch, huddled in a corner, eyes closed. His long legs are stretched out over the seat and his head is resting to the side, against the back of the couch. He's not moving and which a shock I realize that he must be sleeping.
He looks so relaxed. His eyes are closed and his face looks serene. His arms are loosely wrapped around his midsection and his legs are crossed at the ankles.
Slowly, silently, I let myself sink down in the big winged chair I have used every time I was in this room. I watch Vansh as he sleeps. He's so quiet, I can't even hear him breathe. I have no clue why I am mesmerized by this sight so much, but the vision of him here, apparently relaxed enough to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the day, means something very important to me.
Because people don't tend fall asleep when they don't feel safe.
And he apparently feels safe enough to sleep.
Does this mean that he's not afraid of getting punished for slacking during the day?
I keep looking, listening all the while to the distant sounds around me that tell me there are indeed others in the house. They are just not here.
Vansh moves a little and wraps his arms tighter around himself. I freeze, afraid that he will wake and see me sitting here. But he doesn't open his eyes and he is still again. Is he cold, maybe? I know I am cold, and as he is not moving at all, maybe he is a little chilly.
I look at the afghan that lies folded on the seat.
Do I dare do this? I deliberate for a long moment. Will he appreciate it if I cover him? Will he hate me for it? Will Maya berate me for it?
Looking closely I see there are dark shadows under his eyes. He must have been sleeping poorly over the last couple of days.
That's not even surprising, I think nobody has slept well over the last couple of days. I know I haven't. Not really.
Vansh moves again and now I'm very sure that he is cold. People should never be cold. It's the one thing I truly hate to be. I can handle pain, or hunger, or any type of hurt, but I hate to be cold.
That's it for me. I pick up the Afghan as silently as I can muster and gently drape it over him, very careful to remain out of arms' reach should he wake. I can't even believe I am doing this! My heart crashes in my chest and I'm having trouble to keep my breathing at least a little bit calm. Why am I feeling so caring all of a sudden? Then again, I covered Rajeev with a blanket often enough when he passed out on the couch again. Not that I wanted him to keep warm, but because I didn't want him to wake up from the cold and visit my room before he went to his own bed.
But with Vansh, I just don't want him to be cold. Plus, he helped me to bed when I fainted, I do remember that, so it's normal to do something in return, right?
Right?
Vansh seems to notice the blanket, because he huddles in a little deeper and sighs softly.
Afraid that he will wake, I take a step back. Best to leave him now. I know I would panic if I was sleeping and somebody was watching me.
I leave for the kitchen and start for the fridge. I have to breathe deep a couple of times to get my heartbeat under control again. I hope Vansh never finds out I placed the blanket over him, and I hope he won't be angry when he does. It's a bit too late to take the afghan away now, too. Retrieving my food, I try to focus on other things to distract myself.
It's a wonder really, how soon I have rolled into my own rhythm in this house. I had a clear rhythm at Rajeev's of course, eating whenever I could and forming my schedule around his. I often considered myself lucky that he had some important job at a bank, which kept him away from home a lot. He often had big dinners in the weekends, which meant more quiet time for me. I never minded.
At Renee's, I did as I pleased too, eating when I wanted and sleeping when I wanted. Renee always left me to do my own thing and although she told me I didn't need to, I think she didn't really mind that I cleaned her entire house while she was out working.
And here, it seems as if I automatically get to avoid the family as much as possible. It saves me so much stress, especially when I think back to last Saturday. I've been here for four days and I have seen so little of the rest of the family. The concussion is the most wonderful excuse to keep away though, and I'm hoping that by the time this will be over, they know it's better to avoid me. I'll make it easy for them to act as if I'm not there.
It's better that way.
Voices from the hallway upstairs, coming down.
Oh, shit, didn't I just think how easy it was to avoid them?
Maya comes first, followed by Angre, Ishani and Sara. Three faces light up when they see me, Sara looks away and refuses to meet my gaze.
Nobody seems to notice how I am gripping the breakfast bar for support.
Ah, wrong. Maya does. Of course.
"Did you sleep?" Maya asks kindly. Behind her, Sara trails into the living room and turns on the TV.
Oh, no, Vansh is sleeping in there! When he wakes up, he will find out I must have put the blanket over him. Shit!
Noticing my red alert reaction, Angre thinks it is directed at him. He takes a step back and throws his hands in the air as if he surrenders. "Whoa, don't panic, I'm leaving already. Jeez," he mutters as he turns and walks into the living room as well.
What happens next, scares me so much I simply flop down to the floor so I can hide in the corner between the breakfast bar and the kitchen counter.
Oh, fuck, my head, my head, my head...
Angre takes Vansh by surprise to wake him up - loudly. Hearing the surprised and angry reactions of the others, I would not be the only one whose heart skipped a beat in fright.
I cover my head and look with wide eyes into nothingness after that sudden sound. I'm not really scared that something will happen to me, but sudden sounds apparently render me motionless like I am now.
Will Vansh be upset over the afghan?
I shouldn't have done this. I just shouldn't. What was I thinking?
Fuck.
I listen to the rest of the conversation.
"Shit, Angre! Couldn't just let me sleep, could you?"
"Your legs are taking up much needed space, man. If you want to sleep you should go to bed. Or did Natasha keep you awake all night?" he adds in a suggesting tone.
Vansh mumbles something in response but I am distracted from that answer because someone is saying my name very close to me.
"Riddhima?" It's Ishani and she sounds worried.
Carefully, I focus my gaze on her. She's kneeling in front of me, but at a safe distance away. Maya stands back a little, a mixture of worry and annoyance on her face.
Oh, shit, is she annoyed with me? My eyes go bigger still in apprehension.
"Riddhima, did Angre scare you with his scream?"
I keep looking at Maya. I can't move and although I'd rather not answer this question, I think my reaction is self-explanatory.
Ishani stays in her kneeling position, but she leans backwards and calls around the breakfast bar, "Angre, you prick, you scared the shit out of Riddhima. Seriously, you really don't have a brain, do you?"
"Aw, sorry!" His words are short, but sincere enough. I think.
"Ishani, mind your tongue, please," Maya admonishes. Then she looks into the direction of the living room. "Angre, we've spoken time and again about your crude behaviour. I would appreciate it if you kept Riddhima's presence in mind as well. Now come over here and apologize properly, please."
I hear Angre's footsteps as he approaches the kitchen.
Wait, is he coming here? What...
"Where is she?"
Ishani nods in my direction and Angre appears around the breakfast bar.
Oh fuck, he's like seven feet tall from where I am sitting.
"Sorry again, Riddhima! Didn't mean to scare you." He smiles down at me from about a mile away and I just look up at him, frozen, eyes fixed in their wide stance.
Maybe I should blink soon but that part seems to be malfunctioning at the moment.
Angre waits a moment, but he soon learns I'm not going to react and he walks back to the living room again. I follow him with my eyes until he disappears from sight and then Maya catches my gaze, smiling now. "Thank you, Angre. Riddhima, let's get you up. There's really no reason to be scared. Angre didn't mean any harm."
"No, he's just loud by default," Ishani clarifies. "Come, it must be cold on the floor."
It is, come to think of it.
I lift myself up into a standing position again, holding on to the breakfast bar until the dizziness passes. Then I look back at Maya. I need to know why she was annoyed.
"Did you eat anything?"
I nod.
"Good. I'm glad to see that you're starting to eat more. How is the nausea? Is it getting better?"
I nod again, still waiting. Anxiety is still wound tightly in my stomach. I was less nervous around Rajeev, come to think of it.
"Good. Listen, I don't know if you're up to it but I wanted to make some soup for dinner tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to help me?"
While Maya speaks, Ishani nods once and disappears into the living room.
"I'll tell everyone the kitchen is off limits, so it would be just us. I know you want to help me out, and I know you like to cook. What do you think?"
She sounds hopeful and although I dread the prospect of cooking with her around, I like the idea of being able to do something and that something being cooking is a hopeful thought indeed.
But what will Vedant do when he gets home?
Maya sees my hesitation. "What has you worried? Wait, I'll get you something to write on."
Accepting the pen and paper for once, I ask Maya if Vedant will not be mad, since he wouldn't approve of me being out of bed. I'd give my right arm to not have to ask these questions that make me so vulnerable. I'm literally shaking with the weakness I feel.
Maya however smiles at me. "You've slept through the day, it's good for you to be up for a while. So, will you help me? Vedant will approve."
Will I do it? It will feel good to be doing something again. And if Vedant will approve, it means I can appease him too. So I nod, and Maya's face lights up.
"You couldn't have made me happier," she breathes, and then she is suddenly all business getting the utensils and ingredients out. She calls out to the others in the living room that they should not come into the kitchen, and then we set to work.
●●●●●
I've never been more exhausted from such a simple thing as cooking. Maya noticed how tired I was after just cutting the vegetables - which I did sitting at the kitchen table to suppress the dizziness a bit - and sent me to my bed with a resoluteness that surprised me. But I am grateful for it. Finally, some clarity. Finally, some clear orders that I know what to do with.
It did feel very unnatural to leave the kitchen without setting the table. To leave things unfinished. But Maya wouldn't have it.
I'm too tired, too dizzy and too weary to really worry about the fact that she sent me to my room. I don't know what will happen next. And I don't want to know.
Or maybe I do.
It's been four days and I'm still waiting.
Waiting for that other shoe to drop.
I sit on the bed with my back against the headboard. I'm very tired and wish I could go to sleep, but I'm too wound up for that. I don't trust this situation. Not at all.
How is it that I am so tired?
The door to my room is opened just a crack, because Maya told me she'd bring me some food as soon as she was done cooking. Through that crack, soft sounds from a chattering Malhotra family drift into my room.
It's almost comforting to listen to.
Footsteps on the stairs alert me that someone is coming and soon enough, Maya steps into my room with a tray again. On automatic pilot, my body brings my knees up to my chin and my arms wrap themselves around them. I don't stand up. I learned it's better to keep as still as possible.
Maya walks around my bed and puts the tray on the desk. I follow her with my gaze and feel utterly useless and even more horrible that she serves me like this.
"Please try to eat something. You made it yourself, you know," she smiles at me. She keeps looking at me expectantly, but I don't know what she wants. "Maybe you can try to eat at the desk. Hot soup is not really something you want to spill."
Ah. I nod once, to let her know I have understood her request. I will do that as soon as I'm alone again.
Maya nods into the direction of the laptop, that is still sitting on the desk, untouched. "You probably knew this already, but this laptop is yours now. Don't hesitate to use it."
So I am allowed to use the laptop. Well, that's good to know, isn't it?
I look at Maya and the tension is steadily building in the room. Or, maybe it's not tension. It's... awkwardness?
"Would you like me to stay here and keep you company?"
Why is she asking this? I'd rather she didn't, but could this be a trick question? I shake my head carefully. I'm really rather alone.
Maya nods in return, sighing softly.
I can't help but think that she is getting tired of me. It won't be long before they realize they have made a mistake by letting me live here. Well, I wouldn't want to live with me, either.
"Use your phone if you need me, okay? I'll come check on you later."
I nod again.
I'm getting pretty sick of nodding.
Of answering questions, in general.
I follow Maya with my eyes as she leaves the room, leaving the door ajar a little behind her. I wait until she is downstairs, count to ten, then lock the door and eat the food and soup.
It's delicious. Of course.
●●●●●
Soft knocks on the door awaken me. I fell asleep sitting on the bed and my neck is stiff and sore when I lift my head to listen.
Sharp bolts of pain shoot up my neck and down my back. Fuck, that kind of hurts. A lot.
"Riddhima?"
Vedant.
"Riddhima, are you awake? Can you please open the door for me?"
Alarm bells go off in my head so loudly that I barely can hear Vedant's voice over the noise. I tense up and curl myself up into as small a form as possible, all the while careful to not make a sound.
Why is Vedant here? What does he want?
I'm not breathing at all anymore now, but listen to Vedant's knocks and his voice, asking me to open the door.
I don't want this.
"Riddhima?"
Please.
This can't be happening. Then again, I was waiting for this to happen. Waiting for that shoe to drop.
I guess this is it.
What will happen if I open that door?
What will happen if I don't open that door?
Oh, shit, I don't know what to do.
"Riddhima?"
The knocks are getting louder now and I realize that he intends to wake me.
He won't go away.
That means I will have to react.
Yes, this is it.
My mind retreats and softly closes the door, disappearing from sight with lowered eyes. An eerie calm comes over me as I move my stiff muscles to get up. Squaring my shoulders and gritting my teeth, I make my way to the door.
I can do this. I will have to.
Let's get over with this.
Fumbling with the lock with my shaking hands, I open the door and meet my foster father's gaze.
Vedant looks down at me and smiles. "Thank you."
He's pretty tall, I notice when he stands so close to me. I step back immediately and keep walking backwards until the back of my knees hit the side of the bed.
Now what?
Vedant steps into the room carefully. "Can I come in?" He is still smiling, as if he wants to reassure me. What is he getting at? Could he be like Stefan? Oh, no, could he really be like Stefan?
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks and I wobble on my legs in fright. It's all I can do to keep myself standing up straight.
"Still dizzy?" Vedant asks softly.
He misinterprets me. But I am still a bit dizzy, so maybe it's safe to nod. Better to not let him know my fear.
God, my heart is going to explode it's beating so fast.
"Riddhima, there's no need to be afraid or nervous. I just came by to check on you. I really want to see if you are okay."
Yeah, I think I'm frowning.
"We can do this here, or in my office. It's up to you." He smiles again, and there isn't a hint of malice or anger in his eyes.
I'm scared shitless, however. I swallow thickly, realizing I'm at a loss. I don't know what to do. I don't know what the consequences of my choices will be.
"I'll let you choose, Riddhima. Shall I use the belt, or not?"
The memory makes bile rise in my throat and I frown again at the burn. Without thinking, I snap the rubber band at my wrist. I wish it would help me escape this current situation. But the memory was fleeting and has long left my head as Vedant is now stepping forward, approaching me.
Not being able to step further back, I lose my balance and flop down on the bed. I want to cringe, or cry, or fight, or run. But I sit completely still, looking at this man with wide eyes. Not ten seconds have passed since he asked me his question.
My mind paces anxiously behind her door. I must remember my resolve. But it's increasingly hard to do so as Vedant is still walking towards me. I follow his every moment minutely as he squats before me and meets my gaze.
"I won't hurt you, Riddhima. I thought I had made myself clear on that in our conversation last Sunday, and with the contract."
I still look at him, unmoving.
I wish I knew what was going to happen. My mind opens the door a crack and I register everything with a little more clarity. It's taking too long. My mind wants to know what to do.
"I want to check on you," Vedant says. His voice is soft, but I'm afraid to call it sincere. I don't trust my own judgment right now. My breathing is short and hard and my head hurts. Why doesn't he just get this over with?
"I think the most important thing right now is your concussion. I want to ask you a few questions. Is that okay with you?"
Numbly, I keep looking at him. I notice how he gradually changes into his doctor mode. Can I trust him? What will he do with the knowledge I am going to give him?
"How is the dizziness, is it better than yesterday?"
I nod stiffly. It is.
"Good. And the headache?"
Still going strong, but I'd rather not tell him that.
We keep looking at each other for a long moment.
"Please, Riddhima," Vedant says, then hesitates to think for a moment. "I'm sorry. I need to get up because my legs are killing me," he chuckles without humor, and he rises. His knees pop when he stretches his legs.
I lean backwards as he is now towering over me and he goes to sit down on the chair by the bed, picking a small pen-like stick out of his pocket as he does so. "Can I just check your pupil reflexes?"
I nod slowly, seeing no harm in that. He flashes the small light in front of my eyes and asks me to follow his finger with my gaze. I've had these kinds of examinations before and the familiarity makes me ease up a tiny bit. So far, so good?
Then he puts the flashlight away and leans forward, hands outstretched, I'm so alarmed I stagger backwards on the bed.
What the fuck?
Vedant pulls back. "I'm sorry, that's the automatic pilot of being a doctor. But I need to check your head Riddhima."
There is a sternness in his voice I have never heard before. My heart is crashing out of my chest and I'm starting to hyperventilate again.
I look at Vedant and somehow I know he's not going to go away.
Let's get over with this then, my mind mutters, resigned. She steps back again, fading into blackness with lowered eyes. My vision blurs and I shut down, retreating once more into the sanctuary of my mind.
To Be Continued.....
Up next: Vedant telling his part, and I think a lot of questions about Riddhima's past will be answered.