11. WORRY
AAROHI:
The mansion woke before I did.
I heard it through the door, hurried footsteps, voices whispering urgently, the clang of something dropped and quickly picked up.
A strange tension hummed through the walls, sharper than usual. I pushed myself up slowly, my body heavy, my throat aching as if every failed word had scraped it raw. My room felt colder than before.
But outside... Something was different. A soft knock came. Not the sharp, commanding knock the staff used. Gentle. Almost hesitant. The door opened a crack. A maid stepped in, eyes wide and nervous.
"Madam..." she whispered, "Sir's family has arrived. His mother and his elder sister." My breath caught, His family. My fingers tightened around the blanket automatically. The maid stepped closer, speaking quickly, almost breathless.
"Sir said you must stay in the room. Do not come out. Whatever happens, you will not appear."
Her voice trembled slightly, as if she hated delivering this order. I nodded slowly. Even if I wanted to argue, my voice wouldn't come. I didn't try.
The maid left with one last guilty glance, closing the door softly behind her. I sat still for a long moment. Then, soft footsteps outside. Quieter. More graceful. Then a voice. A woman's voice.
"Maa is this door? The one bhai doesn't let anyone enter?" Another voice, older, gentler, answered, "Yes. Don't knock. Veer gets angry if we interfere." I froze. His mother. And his sister.
The maid must have gone downstairs, because for a brief moment the hallway outside became silent. Then, a soft, warm knock. Very different from his.
"Child are you inside...?" The word nearly unraveled something inside me. I clutched the blanket harder. Another knock followed, softer this time.
"I'm his mother," the gentle voice said. "May I come in? Just for a moment?" My breath trembled. No one had ever asked permission to enter my space here. I reached for the lock with shaky fingers...but my hand froze. His warning echoed.
Don't come out. Don't interact. Don't speak to anyone unless permitted. My throat tightened, no voice available even if I wanted to respond. The handle turned. Softly.Slowly. The door opened just an inch.
A woman peeked inside, older, elegant, her eyes lined with worry. Her saree was soft cream and gold, her expression warm in a way I hadn't seen since leaving home.
Behind her, a younger woman, his sister, stood with arms crossed, eyes sharp, suspicious, but still curious. His mother stepped inside carefully, shutting the door behind her.
"Oh...sweetheart" she whispered when she saw me. Her face softened painfully, her hand flying to her chest.
"You're just a child..." I lowered my gaze, unable to hold her eyes. Something in my chest ached, a different kind of ache. Not fear. Something closer to longing. She approached slowly, as if afraid I would shatter with sudden movement.
"Come here" she murmured. I didn't move. Not because I didn't want to. Because I didn't know if I was allowed. She noticed.
"child," she whispered, her expression breaking. "You're scared." Her daughter stepped inside fully now, eyes scanning me, noticing every bruise of exhaustion, the paleness of my skin, the faint tremble in my hands.
"Maa..." she said quietly, a rare softness in her voice, "one maid says she is unwell." His mother reached forward and placed a gentle palm on my cheek, a touch so unexpected I stiffened, then almost leaned into it.
"You poor thing..." she whispered. "Have you eaten anything? The doctor said you're unwell..." My eyes stung instantly. I shook my head a little, the motion weak. His mother's expression tightened, worry spreading instantly.
"Why hasn't he taken care of you? How could he" "Maa," his sister interrupted.
"You know him. He only understands power and profit. Not people." His mother shot her a warning look, but she didn't deny it. Instead, she turned back to me.
"Beta... I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"This marriage... it should not have happened like this. Not secretly. Not suddenly. You must have been so frightened." My throat closed completely.
Frightened didn't even begin to describe it. I wanted to speak, to tell her everything, to tell her I wasn't here by choice, to tell her about the threats, about the fear, about the darkness of last night.
But nothing left my mouth. His sister stepped closer, crouching to my level.
"Why aren't you speaking?" she asked, not unkindly, just blunt. My fingers curled. I opened my mouth. Air. Only air.No sound. Her eyes widened.
"Maa... she actually can't." His mother looked devastated. "Oh, beta..." Her thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
"You don't have to speak," she said softly. "Just shake your head or nod. Did my son... frighten you?" My chest tightened painfully. I lowered my gaze and nodded.
Very slowly. Very truthfully.
His sister exhaled sharply, muttering, "Of course he did. He terrifies everyone."
His mother straightened, her expression shifting, still soft, but sharper now. Stronger.
"Beta... don't worry," she whispered. "While I am here, he won't raise his voice at you. And he won't harm you." I wanted to believe her. I wanted to hold onto her words like a lifeline. But the fear in my bones was older than today.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from downstairs. Heavy. Controlled. Familiar. His mother and sister exchanged a look. "He's coming," the sister whispered. His mother gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"Don't stand. Don't strain yourself. I will talk to him." The blanket slipped from my fingers as she stood. The fear that shot through me was instinctive.
The door opened again, and the sound of his shoes on the marble floor grew closer, sharper, colder. His sister whispered, "Maa, he's angry."
His mother inhaled deeply, bracing herself. I curled inward, my breath trembling silently. Because I knew, whatever softness she had just given me... wouldn't protect me from him.
Not in this house. Not in his world. Not when he walked through that door. The few steps were unmistakable. Sharp. Heavy. Rhythmic.
The kind of footsteps that swallowed every other sound around them. The kind that made the staff scatter. The kind that made fear rise up in my throat even though no voice could follow it. His mother gave me one last, gentle look, a look that said "stay calm, beta"
Even though calm was impossible. His sister straightened her shoulders, jaw tense, eyes narrowing like she was preparing for a fight.
The door swung open. He walked in with the kind of presence that filled the entire room instantly, gaze sharp enough to cut through bone. His eyes landed first on his mother. Then on his sister.
Then, on me.
A storm flickered behind his gaze the moment he saw me sitting upright, wrapped in a blanket, looking at him with wide, exhausted eyes. His jaw locked.
"What," he said flatly, "are you both doing in this room?" His sister scoffed. "Wow. No greeting? No explanation? Straight to command mode." His mother touched her arm gently, a silent warning, then turned to him.
"Veer. You should have told us about this sudden marriage."
"I had no reason to," he said coolly. "None?" his sister shot back. "Marriage isn't a business update-"
"For me, it is." He didn't look at her when he said it. He looked directly at me. And something dark flickered through his eyes- not worry, not concern, but annoyance.
That I wasn't where he left me. that I wasn't silent and invisible. that someone else was seeing me like this. His mother stepped in front of his gaze, blocking it protectively.
"She is sick," she said firmly. "Very sick."
He didn't blink. He didn't step back. He didn't soften.
"She'll recover." His mother's tone sharpened. "Not if you keep treating her like-"
"Maa." His voice dropped, deep, warning. "Don't interfere in my household." The air thinned. His sister muttered, "Household? This is a prison cell." His look snapped to her, cold and hard.
"You don't know anything about it." His mother exhaled shakily, her heart breaking right in front of me.
She turned slightly toward me, her hand resting on my arm as if shielding me from him.
"I want to see her voice checked again. And her diet improved. And her blood tests were done. The doctor said she fainted twice." His jaw tightened.
"She'll be taken care of."
"When?" his sister snapped. "When will she collapse again? Or when she stops breathing?" His eyes flashed dangerously, but not at her. At me.
As if everything wrong in the room was suddenly my fault. As if my presence created chaos. He took one step toward me, slow, controlled, dangerous.
I instinctively shrank back. His mother instantly stepped between us. Enough to block his direct path to me.
"Veer," she said firmly, "you didn't tell us you got married. You didn't introduce her. You didn't explain anything. And now the girl is terrified, voiceless, and starving."
His expression flickered. Barely. But it flickered. His mother continued, her voice trembling despite her strength.
"Is this how you want your wife to live? In fear? Unable to speak? Afraid to even breathe when you enter the room?"My breath hitched.
"You act like your father, Veer. Please don't be like him". His hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Maa," he said coldly, "my marriage is not your concern."
"It becomes my concern," she replied, "when your wife looks like she hasn't known safety since the moment she entered this house."
A small, broken sound escaped me-not voice,not word,just a breath that trembled too hard.He heard it.He looked at me.Really looked.
Tears clinging to my lashes,fingers curled around the blanket,shoulders shaking, my throat strained uselessly when I tried to swallow the panic.And for a fraction of a heartbeat-his eyes changed. Something unreadable. Unsteady. He hated the feeling.
Hated that his mother and sister were witnessing it. He tore his gaze away, exhaling sharply. "Enough," he said. "Both of you, out." His mother didn't move. His sister didn't blink
.
"No," his mother said softly. "Not until you promise you won't harm her." His jaw clenched.
"I don't harm people," he said. His sister scoffed loudly. "She was in the basement last night." His mother's hand flew to her mouth, horror flashing instantly.
"What?" she whispered. "Basement?" His sister nodded. "Locked. The whole night." His mother's eyes filled instantly with tears, not for him. For me. She turned on him with a fury I didn't expect.
"How could you?" Her voice cracked. "She's younger than your sister! She's barely able to stand, how could you put her there?" The room vibrated with tension.
For a second, it looked like he was going to yell. To explode. To crush everything in sight. But he didn't. He turned away, toward the window, toward the floor, toward anything that wasn't me or them. His voice came low.
"I'll handle it." His mother stepped closer to me, ignoring his order to leave. She cupped my face again, softly, kindly, with a warmth that made my eyes burn.
"Beta," she whispered, "Don't worry. I won't let him treat you this way." Her words felt like a blanket around my ribcage. She kissed my forehead. Her daughter squeezed my hand once, silently promising something.
Then they left. The door clicked shut. And I was alone again. But not before I saw it.
The look he gave me as the door closed.
A look full of unspoken anger. A look that said, You opened your mouth to them. You showed them something. You let them into what's mine.
Even without a voice...I could hear the warning in his eyes. Tonight wouldn't be easy.
Not for him.
Not for me.
Not after this.