So why does it feel like I just lost everything?
CHAPTER 34
ADITI
I’m sitting on the swing in the backyard, the sun lazily pouring gold onto the marigold bushes, when I hear the soft murmurs of Anika and Bhabhi talking in the verandah. I know they’re talking about me. I don’t need to hear the exact words to guess the conversation. It’s in the way their voices dip into concern. The way Bhabhi has peeked at me from the kitchen doorway at least four times. The way Anika has been unusually gentle, almost like she’s handling glass.
They know something’s wrong.
Of course they do.
They’ve known me for years—Bhabhi since she married Bhai, and Anika... well, she’s been like an elder sister long before she officially became one. There’s no faking it with them. Especially not now, when my eyes are probably still puffy from crying in the car the entire ride back home.
I had come back in the afternoon and met everyone. Maa shed a few tears and clutched my face as though she was checking for cracks. “You’ve lost weight,” she’d said, her voice breaking. And despite the emptiness in my stomach, I had been force-fed everything from aloo-pyaaz kachori to halwa becauseapparently being emotionally wrecked wasn’t enough—I had to be physically stuffed too.
Badi Maa had scolded me like I was still a teenager sneaking in past curfew. “You’re in Jaipur and didn’t inform us? Are we strangers now, Aditi?”
No. You’re not strangers.
I am.
Anika appears in the doorway now, dressed in a casual kurti and jeans, tying her hair into a bun. Bhabhi trails behind her, already pulling out the car keys from the drawer. Rudrani is sitting cross-legged on the carpet nearby, building towers with wooden blocks, her tiny fingers working with precision only a five-year-old can afford to have during playtime.
Anika’s eyes flicker to me, soft and searching. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? We’re going to the market. Just a small run for groceries.”
I shake my head without looking up.
Bhabhi crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “You could use some fresh air.”
“I’m okay,” I reply, voice hollow.
Neither of them buys it. Of course they don’t.
They exchange one of those secret looks women share when they’re both helpless and frustrated but know when to give someone space. I can almost hear them silently saying, "Let her be." She’ll talk when she’s ready.
“I’ll stay back with Rudrani,” I add quickly, glancing at Rudrani, who perks up at the mention of her name.
“Okay,” Anika says gently. “Call if you need anything.”
I nod, and they leave.
The silence settles in like an old cardigan—familiar, heavy, and a bit suffocating.
I walk over to Rudrani, kneeling down beside her. She’s wearing a pink frock with unicorns on it and a tiny clip shaped like a strawberry in her hair. She beams up at me as though I’m her favorite person in the world. Maybe I am. Maybe she’s mine too.
“Want to help me build a castle?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, trying to force the smile, because she deserves at least that much.
We spend the next few minutes stacking blocks. Hers are carefully aligned—a mix of logic and imagination—and mine are... Well, I’m just placing them wherever, pretending my brain isn't stuck replaying this morning like a scratched record. Me walking out of the room, the look Abhimaan had on his face—I can’t remember how he looked. Was he hurt too? Was he okay with me walking away? Did he want me to stop?
“Bua, you made it fall!” Rudrani cries dramatically as our tiny tower collapses.
“Oops.” I try to chuckle, but it catches in my throat.
She narrows her eyes at me, scooting closer. “Why are your eyes red?”
I blink. Kids. They see everything.
