Presenting the latest chapter! The last two were temporarily taken down due to plagiarism. If this chapter receives a significant number of votes, I'll go ahead and update the next one today itself.
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As I opened the back door of the car, my eyes were drawn to the bouquet of red roses, adorned with a few pink ones. Unintentionally, my gaze shifted to the person who must have bought it, only to find that he wasn't looking at me.
Vaibhav entered the car, taking the passenger seat beside the driver. I followed suit, retrieving the bouquet from the seat and placing it on my lap.
Guilt started to settle in, recalling the words exchanged in our room,
I sat in the corner next to Roshni. The driver started, and Vaibhav remained immersed in his phone. The weight of his indifference was intensifying my remorse.
I was never accustomed to behaving this way-abusing or screaming at people. Perhaps I was, but no one had been around to witness my outbursts. In that moment, I felt confused, influenced by my mother's constant assertions that he would eventually leave me. Just when I started finding a bit of peace in my heart, the uncertainty clouded my thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, I had found someone in my life upon whom I could rely.
The words I said to him were not meant at all, just a sudden outburst.
It was too early to trust anyone, or maybe thinking about trusting anyone. But his behavior during our first meeting, when he, without any irritation, took the escalator and walked along with me, his thoughtful gestures during the anxiety attack, the way he took care of me during my vulnerabilities.
It's easier said than done to claim that we don't need anyone, but the truth is, everyone yearns for someone to share their day, their deepest traumas, and worries. Perhaps he is a good person, akin to Priya, with a kind soul that doesn't find joy in mocking people's insecurities, as I experienced in school or witnessed in my mother's behavior.
I wondered if Vaibhav's mother hadn't expressed her desires regarding the alliance. Who might I have married? My mother wouldn't have hesitated or felt the slightest remorse about marrying me off to even an old man.
My father, as usual, would have remained silent, lacking the courage to confront her or address her mistreatment of me. I never confided in him for my own reasons, but deep down, he knew what she was subjecting me to.
Similarly, he remained silent when the topic of our marriage arose. If only they had given us a month to better understand each other, I might not have spoken to him in such a manner, or he might have understood my trust issues.
"Is he angry?"I was startled by the sudden intrusion into the ocean of my thoughts, but after a fleeting moment, I turned my attention to Aadarsh.
I nodded in response to his question. I wasn't sure if Vaibhav had heard it, as he didn't turn around. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were fixed on the scenery outside the car window.
"Pacifying bhai's anger is the most difficult task," Aadarsh remarked.
Vaibhav, engrossed in a call, likely didn't hear our conversation.
"Don't say that, I'm already very afraid," I murmured.
I didn't know him well, how he would behave when we would be alone, how he would express his anger, whether he would be easy to pacify or too tough.
"Oh, shit, I forgot my laptop glasses," Vaibhav exclaimed, breaking the silence, irritation evident in his voice.
I'm certain his irritation stemmed not only from his misplaced glasses but also from our conversation and his anger.
His words snapped me out of my thoughts. Without a word, I took out his glasses to hand them to him. As I extended my hand, he declined, saying, "Keep them with you; I don't need them right now," his voice held no anger, no smile-just a flat tone that left me feeling disheartened.
At least he could have expressed his anger; it would have made me feel a little less guilty about it.
We arrived at the airport and proceeded to the waiting lounge, where, Ma was already waiting.
Swiftly boarding the flight, we soon landed in Mumbai-the city that never sleeps.
Even this midnight felt like mid-afternoon due to the hustle and bustle at the airport. People were entering and leaving, and perhaps the destinies of those around me mirrored mine - leaving the city of their birth or leaving something behind.
Throughout the journey, Vaibhav remained silent, not uttering a word or glancing in my direction. He was immersed in his laptop, focused on typing something.
During our flight, I yearned to talk to him and offer my apology, but with Ma seated beside me, I hesitated. I didn't want her to be privy to the unfolding issues and the words exchanged with her son - something any mother would likely disapprove of.
Despite the relatively distant seats in business class, the silence surrounding us was enough for our conversation to be overheard by anyone nearby.
We walked out of the airport together, enveloped in a heavy silence, likely due to the early hour. Fatigue was setting in, and even I felt the tug of sleep. Roshni wore a grumpy expression, and when Adarsh placed his hand on her shoulder, she swiftly shrugged him off, shooting him an angry glare.
Vaibhav remained silent, resembling a dormant volcano on the brink of eruption. Despite walking side by side, he avoided glancing at me. I missed his intense gaze, the one that used to send chills down my spine.
As we reached the parking area, two black cars awaited us. In one car, Vaibhav and I sat with Roshni, while in the other, Adarsh and Ma took their seats.
Once again, Vaibhav occupied the front seat, with Roshni and me in the back, further deepening the divide between us.
The pain intensified, and regret consumed me. His anger was palpable, cutting me deeper.
Unexpectedly, I felt a hand near my waist, only to realize it was Roshni. She slept peacefully, clinging to me like a child. I adjusted her to make her more comfortable, placing her head on my shoulder.
Lost in my thoughts, I gazed outside at the towering buildings and vast complexes. Although I had visited Delhi numerous times, but never got a chance to visit, Mumbai.
Before long, we arrived at the house.
The house stood impressively large, surpassing even my mother's. Three cars adorned the exterior, parked neatly outside. Painted in a pristine white, the house was adorned with decorative lights, boasting a spacious garden with a walking path tucked in the corner. With four floors, it was undeniably a beautiful residence.
Vaibhav opened the back door of the car, and our gazes met for the first time since our confrontation. The caring look I was accustomed to had transformed into a gaze filled with pain, drowning me in a well of guilt.
I gently touched Roshni's arm and whispered near her ear, "Roshni, we have reached."
She opened her eyes, rubbing and squinting before looking around. Opening the door, she stepped outside, and I followed suit.
Roshni walked out, stomping her legs, and Vaibhav and I followed in silence, maintaining some distance. As we reached the entrance, Ma and Adarsh awaited us, Ma holding a thaal with a Diya in it, and a red liquid-filled thaal placed on the floor.
We stopped at the entrance, and I looked at the well-decorated and well-lit interior.
Ma spoke, her eyes slightly moist, "I know we've already done these rituals, but this is your house, made by, your late father-in-law."
Her words triggered memories of my parents' deaths and their lifeless bodies. I pushed away those thoughts to focus on the present tasks at hand.
After the Aarti, as instructed, we stepped inside, my foot meeting the red liquid. I slipped, a little, due to the fear of falling I immediately held Vaibhav's wrist before my body could meet the ground.
I looked into his eyes again, those deep brown eyes, like black coffee, devoid of any emotions. At that moment, I wished he would look into my eyes to understand that I am genuinely sorry for my behavior. I shouldn't have disrespected him like that. However, as before, he didn't even glance at me. Just a slight touch on my shoulder, a hesitant gesture as he helped me stand.
After the rituals, we retired to our rooms. Vaibhav and I were to stay in a separate portion, so we took the stairs. It was a familiar setting, much like his house in Lucknow. Vaibhav led the way, and as we ascended, he stopped at a room and opened it. Gesturing for me to stop, he entered without meeting my gaze.
The room was initially dark, causing my breathing to quicken, but soon it lit up, accompanied by a refreshing breeze. After about five minutes, Vaibhav emerged.
"Come," he said, avoiding eye contact. It was the first time we were alone since the argument, and first word he spoke after, may be our first argument after getting married. I wanted to apologize, but looking at his tired face, I held back. Upon entering, I noticed the open windows - he had stopped me earlier to do this.
He remained silent, disappearing into the closet. reemerging in black joggers and a white t-shirt, wet hair adding to his allure. Despite his tired appearance, he remained undeniably attractive.
Even I did the same, I entered the closet, and found my luggage was already placed inside.
The closet was large; on one side, there was a spacious wardrobe filled with Vaibhav's belongings, and the other side was all empty-a place to keep my things.
If Vaibhav hadn't been in the room, I would have first arranged my belongings, even at this odd hour to declutter my cluttered mind-a habit I had whenever I needed to calm myself.
Back at my home, I would do the same; whenever I felt confused or irritated, I would clean every nook and corner of my room.
But realizing that this room didn't belong to me alone, and he might get disturbed, I dropped the idea of doing anything like that. Instead, I looked at every suitcase properly, trying to recall which one contained the clothes I could wear at night.
After analyzing my luggage and opening a few of them, I found a long t-shirt and lower for myself. Having a quick bath and brushing my teeth-a habit my own mother inculcated in me, a souvenir of her.
Changing into the comfortable clothes, I returned to the bedroom.
Vaibhav was lying on his back with one arm on his forehead, eyes closed. However, I could sense that he was not asleep. Deciding not to disturb him, I silently went to bed. I wanted to ask him to sleep on the bed as it would be uncomfortable for him on the couch, but I didn't voice out the words, yet again.
I slowly lay on the bed without making any sound, slipping beneath the covers. The room was dimly lit, and the lights from outside increased visibility. It was larger than his room in Lucknow, painted in light blue with various shades, a bed in the middle, a large couch in the corner near the window, small tables with drawers, and a sizable TV unit in front of the bed. Large windows and a door likely leading to the balcony which was visible through the window.
A sudden curiosity grew within me to step out and see the balcony, but the fear of disturbing him halted my steps.
Peering around the room, dwelling on every tiny detail, sleep overcame me due to crying during the day, tiredness from traveling, and emotional turmoil.
I awoke to the sound of thunder and rain, promptly rising from the bed. The room was still dim, likely due to the storm. Glancing at the digital clock on the table, it read 06:39 am.
The splattering sound of raindrops on the window was simultaneously peaceful and disturbing. Peaceful due to the weather and disturbing due to the situation my parents put me in.
Vaibhav seemed like a great guy-punctual, disciplined, caring, responsible, understanding, and calm. However, I was not like him at all, except that we both liked to read. That commonality was unlikely to help us truly understand each other, especially since I was the opposite of calm; I was rather disturbed.
Vaibhav remained asleep on the couch, his face now turned towards me, hair falling over his forehead. His arm dangled over the edge, the larger couch proving somewhat uncomfortable for a man of his build.
Careful not to disturb him, I quietly opened the balcony door and stepped outside. The balcony was more spacious than the previous one, furnished with a sofa set reminiscent of the terrace in our former home. Additionally, a round swing adorned the space, surrounded by lush plants.
Fearing that Vaibhav would soon get up and wondering what he might think upon finding me in the balcony, I, being an inquisitive and curious woman, am exploring his room without even asking.
Yes, I am aware that we are married, and people often say that everything belonging to my husband is mine as well. However, it's easier said than felt. We can't simply start feeling a sense of ownership over everything that belongs to our husbands.
I believe that we often act as we feel that way, but a woman in her husband's home never truly senses entitlement over his and his family's belongings.
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In the morning, Vaibhav appeared quite irritated. He woke up cranky, likely due to a lack of sleep during the night and perhaps influenced by my words from the previous day. He got ready hastily, without casting a glance in my direction, and rushed off to his office.
Now in the kitchen,as per my mother-in-law's instructions, I found myself alongside Roshni. My mother-in-law, insisted that I start with cooking something in the kitchen before attempting anything else.
The age-old ritual of preparing something in the kitchen before embarking on any task.
Contemplating my next move, I decided to prepare dinner. Roshni sat on the kitchen slab, and a house helper stood a little behind me, observing my every action.
My introverted nature resisted the urge to tell her she could ask any questions, but I refrained. "Roshni, what's your favorite?" I asked as I turned to open the refrigerator for the necessary ingredients.
"Pizza, Panipuri, Momo, Pasta, French fries, burger," she listed her favorites, I wanted to laugh at her words, but fearing what she might think of me, I suppressed my desire.
"Roshni, I can't cook them for dinner. Tell me, what would you like for dinner?" I inquired. Though I wanted to know Vaibhav's favorites to ease his mood before our conversation, I couldn't ask directly.
"Bhabhi, ask directly, na. I know you want to make something for Vaibhav Bhai," this insightful sister of the Rajawats replied.
"Smart," I exclaimed.
"I know," she said, tossing her hair in the air.
"Okay, tell me then, what are his favorites?" I asked.
"Bhabhi, basically he likes Indian cuisine-Palak Paneer, Mixed Veg, Biryani, and for dessert, he likes Gajar Ka Halwa," Roshni answered, glancing at her phone. I didn't mind.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at her.
"Don't tell him, that I asked you about it," I spoke, she looked at me with a mischievous smile.
"Bhabhi, secret tax for that," she said, her facial features showing mischief.
"Okay, tell me," I spoke, sighing.
"Bhabhi, for now, nothing, but I'll ask in the future," she replied before slipping off the kitchen slab.
She walked out of the kitchen, leaving me and the house helper, who regarded me as if I were an alien-not from another planet but, specifically from the sun.
I gathered all the ingredients on the kitchen slab, washed the vegetables and did the cooking with the help of the house helper.
Soon, the cooking got finished and I came to my room to change as I was immersed in sweat and spices.
I changed myself into a white frock suit with black embroidery.
It was almost 7 pm, still time for dinner. I again went to bed and immersed myself in the Novel.
My gaze was fixed on the novel, but my mind was consumed by thoughts of Vaibhav, searching for ways to apologize.
Should I apologize before dinner, or should I wait until after dinner?
How should I initiate the conversation?
Will his anger persist, or has it softened a bit?
Will he forgive me?
Abruptly, I felt a significant shift in the sea of my thoughts, only to find Vaibhav walking leisurely into the room. Carrying his laptop bag, he placed it on the couch and glanced around the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact with me.
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