“I just came to inform you two that tomorrow,” she pauses and looks straight at me, “you’ll be going home for your pag phera rasam. I spoke to Meera just now.”
The moment she says it, my body goes cold.
Pag phera.
Going home.
That house.
I freeze. My fingers tighten around the edge of the door. I feel my smile drop before I can stop it.
Before Rudraksh can say anything—and I know he’s about to—Maa lifts a hand and cuts him off. “I know it’s only been two days and you’re a little too fond of your wife,” she teases him, but her voice stays kind. “But it’s a ritual. She’ll be back in a day, Rudraksh. Don’t argue.”
Then she turns back to me and smiles like she hasn’t just flipped my stomach inside out. “You must be missing them, right? Don’t worry, I’ll handle him.”
I smile—at least, I try to. It feels tight and unnatural on my face, like I’m borrowing it from someone else. Maa doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she pretends not to. After wishing us a good night, she leaves before I can figure out how to respond properly. As the door closes behind her, I want to pace around, find a way to not go there, or do anything to save myself.
Here, I feel like I can breathe. Back there, every breath feels borrowed—like I have to pay for it later. I do not want to go, but I cannot fall apart, not with Rudraksh in this room; he cannot see me like this, and he definitely can't know the reason.
Rudraksh slowly climbs out of the bed and steps near me. He stands in front of me as his hand reaches out for mine. “Are you okay, darling?” His voice is gentle and soft, lulling me to give in. It almost makes me cry.
I pull my hand back. My fingers tremble as I curl them into a fist by my side. He notices it, of course he does, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah. Of course I’m fine,” I hastily answer him, my voice sounding too shrill, too fake. I hate this. I hate lying to him. But what am I supposed to say? That I don’t want to go back? That I’m terrified of walking back into that house? That I’m scared my parents might do something to hurt the people who’ve been nothing but kind to me?
I can’t risk that. I just… I can’t.
“I think I’m going to sleep,” I mutter instead.
“Good night.”
I know he doesn’t believe me. He looks at me like he’s waiting—hoping—for me to say something real. But I can’t. Not tonight. My fraying nerves won't let me.
“Is something wrong?” He asks as he grips my elbow softly, turning me around.
I shake my head and fake a confused frown. “No, Rudraksh. Why would something be wrong?” My words come out forced.
God, I hate myself for that. The way his expression hardens—not angry, just… tired. Hurt. Disappointed. It’s like I’ve punched a hole in something fragile between us.
He walks back to his laptop without another word. And I crawl under the covers, curling into myself like that might protect me from the thoughts clawing at my brain.
Sleep doesn’t come. I know it won’t.
All I can do is think about tomorrow. About the way I’ll step back into that house with a smile plastered on my face. About the lies I’ll have to tell. About how quickly I need to leave before they ruin everything.
Before theyruinme.
19
RUDRAKSH
I’ve been given the responsibility of dropping my wife off at her parents’ house before heading to the office. All I want to do is turn the car around and take her somewhere far away. Somewhere no one can reach her. Somewhere where her smile will return.
She’s quiet again, like she has wrapped herself up in a shell, and I don't know how to crack it open without hurting her. Not a single word since she got up. All she’s done is bite her nails—something she does only when she’s anxious. And I hate that I can’t do anything about it. Every time I try asking, she gets defensive. Puts on that fake smile and changes the topic like I won’t notice.
Chachi just took her away a few minutes ago. I didn’t ask why. I try not to think about it much as I gather my files and place them in my briefcase, trying to focus on anything other than the gnawing feeling in my chest.
Her backpack is lying near the couch; it is feather-light in my hands. She should’ve packed a few books—something from Aditi’s shelf, maybe. I know how much she loves to read. I’ve watched her get lost in those pages, reacting in small ways—her eyes widening at a twist, the soft gasp when somethingunexpected happens, the blush that blooms on her cheeks. It’s subtle. No one else would notice. But I do. Every time.
