20. REWARD
AAROHI:
The first thing I felt that morning wasn't fear. It was weight. Not the kind that pressed on my body, but the kind that settled inside my chest, heavy and unmoving, like something permanent had taken root there overnight.
The house was awake long before I was ready to be.
Voices echoed in the corridors. Footsteps moved fast, purposeful.
Doors opened and closed. Instructions were whispered.
Phones rang. Somewhere downstairs, metal clinked against metal, cutlery being arranged, glasses aligned, perfection demanded.
Today wasn't an ordinary day. Today, the world was coming.
I sat on the edge of the bed while the maid helped me dress, my hands folded tightly in my lap the way she had taught me. My fingers trembled no matter how hard I tried to still them. "Straight spine, madam," she said gently.
"Breathe slowly." I tried. The fabric of the saree felt heavier than anything I had ever worn, layers of silk pressing against my skin, pulling at my shoulders, reminding me with every movement that I was no longer invisible. This wasn't my clothes. This wasn't my life.
The mirror in front of me reflected someone I barely recognized.
My hair was neatly pinned, every loose strand controlled.
My face was lightly adorned, just enough to soften the shadows under my eyes, just enough to hide the bruises that weren't fully gone yet.
But my eyes gave me away. Big. Dark. Afraid.
I looked like a statue someone had forced into beauty.
"Madam," the head maid said softly, stepping into my line of sight. "Remember what I taught you."
I nodded. Chin slightly lifted. Eyes calm.
Hands folded. Minimal speech. Stand to his right.
Do not interrupt. Do not react. Do not exist unless permitted.
My throat tightened. I swallowed carefully, testing my voice under my breath.
"I... am... Aarohi... Veeransh... Sarkar.
" The sentence came out. Slow. Soft. But complete.
Relief washed through me so sharply my eyes burned. I could speak. Not freely. Not comfortably. But enough. Enough to survive today. The maid smiled faintly. "You're doing well." Am I? I wanted to ask. But instead, I nodded again. A knock echoed at the door. My heart jumped violently.
The maid opened it. Veeransh stood there.
Dressed in black. Crisp. Perfect. Untouchable.
The air changed the moment he stepped inside, as if the room itself straightened in his presence.
My body reacted before my mind could stop it.
My back went rigid. My breath shallow. His eyes swept over me once. Not lingering. Not admiring. Assessing.
"You're late," he said calmly. "I-I..." I stopped myself, inhaled slowly. "I'm... r-ready." The sentence didn't break. His jaw tightened slightly. "Good." He turned without another word. "Follow." I stood carefully, my legs shaky beneath the weight of the saree, and followed him out of the room.
The corridor felt longer than it ever had before.
Every step echoed too loud. Every breath felt too visible.
Servants stood lined against the walls, heads bowed.
I felt their eyes on me, curious, cautious, judgmental.
So this is her. This is the wife. This is the girl.
My palms grew damp. At the top of the staircase, Veeransh paused.
I stopped beside him, exactly where I had been instructed, half a step behind, to his right.
Below us, the hall was transformed. Lights blazed brighter than usual.
Floral arrangements filled every corner.
Cameras were already set up. Men in suits stood in clusters, murmuring, calculating.
Women in silk and jewelry observed everything with trained smiles.
And the media. So many cameras. So many microphones. So many eyes.
My chest tightened painfully. Veeransh leaned slightly toward me, his voice low, sharp enough to cut.
"Remember," he said. "Stand straight. Look calm.
And whatever happens, don't embarrass me.
" My fingers curled tighter into my palm.
"I won't," I whispered. He didn't respond. He started walking. I followed.
The moment we descended the stairs, the noise exploded.
Cameras flashed like lightning. Voices shouted over one another.
"Mr. Sarkar!" "Is this your wife?" "Who is she?
" "How long have you been married?" My heart pounded so hard I thought I might collapse.
Veeransh's hand settled on my back, not gentle, not comforting, but firm.
Possessive. Anchoring. I froze for half a second. Then remembered the rules.
I lifted my chin. I walked beside him. He stopped at the center of the hall, turning slightly so I stood clearly in view.
His arm wrapped around my shoulder, not protective, but deliberate.
The cameras went wild. "This is my wife," he said calmly, voice carrying authority that silenced the room.
"Aarohi Veeransh Sarkar." The words hit me like a wave. My name. With his. Forever.
Every camera turned toward me. I felt exposed.
Small. My breath shook, but I forced it steady.
Veeransh glanced down at me just once. A warning.
I lifted my eyes and looked forward. A reporter stepped closer.
"Mrs. Sarkar, can you tell us how you met your husband?
" My throat constricted instantly. Words crowded in my head, clashing, tangling.
I felt Veeransh's fingers tighten slightly on my shoulder. Pressure. Expectation.
I swallowed. "I..." My voice trembled. I paused.
Breathed. "I met... him... through... family.
" The sentence came out. Clear. The room buzzed.
Another reporter pushed forward. "You seem very young, Mrs. Sarkar.
How old are you?" Veeransh answered before I could panic.
"My wife's age is irrelevant," he said coldly.
"What matters is her place beside me." The reporters laughed awkwardly. But their eyes never left me.
They studied every movement. Every blink.
Every tremor. I felt like prey under a microscope.
One woman in the crowd, older, elegant, tilted her head.
"She looks nervous," she murmured into her microphone.
"Is everything alright, Mrs. Sarkar?" My chest tightened.
This wasn't scripted. This wasn't safe. Veeransh's hand pressed into my shoulder harder.
I inhaled slowly. Forced my voice out. "I.
.. am... fine," I said. The lie tasted bitter. But it landed.
The room hummed. Veeransh's grip loosened slightly.
Approval. Relief flickered through me, but only for a moment.
Because I knew this wasn't over. This was only the beginning.
And as the cameras kept flashing, as the world finally learned my face, all I could think was one thing.
Just let me survive today. Just let me see my mother.
The function ended the way storms do. Abruptly.
Loudly. Leaving wreckage behind. The last question dissolved into forced laughter, the cameras finally lowered, the reporters ushered back with polite firmness.
The hall slowly lost its sharp brightness, lights dimming just enough to feel human again.
But my body didn't relax. Not even when Veeransh's arm slipped away from my shoulder. Not even when the crowd began to thin.
Not even when the noise softened into murmurs instead of interrogation.
I still stood where I was, hands folded, spine straight, breathing shallow, like if I moved wrong, the whole performance would be declared a failure.
Veeransh turned to the guests, his expression perfectly composed.
"Thank you for coming," he said smoothly.
"We appreciate your understanding regarding our privacy.
" Privacy. The word rang hollow in my ears.
People congratulated him. Shook his hand.
Smiled at me with practiced warmth that didn't reach their eyes.
"So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sarkar." "She's very beautiful.
" "You're a lucky man, Veeransh." I nodded when required.
Smiled when expected. Spoke only when spoken to.
Each word scraped my throat like sand. My voice held, but barely.
All I could think about was the promise. Tomorrow you will meet your mother.
The function was over now. This was after.
My fingers trembled slightly. Would he still keep his word?
Veeransh dismissed the last of the guests, his tone polite but final.
Security closed the doors behind them. The echo of the crowd faded until only the soft hum of the mansion remained.
Silence settled. I didn't dare move. Veeransh turned to me.
For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes scanning my face like he was looking for cracks.
For weakness. For evidence of failure. "You did what you were told," he said finally.
Not praise. An observation. Relief flooded me so suddenly my knees nearly gave out.
"I..." I stopped myself. Breathed. "I t-thank.
.. you." He didn't respond. He turned sharply. "Come."
I followed him down a side corridor, away from the main hall, away from the remaining staff.
My heart began to race. This was it. This was either reward or punishment.
We stopped in front of a door I had never seen before, plain, understated, guarded by two security men.
Veeransh nodded once. The guards stepped aside. He opened the door. "Go in," he said.
I hesitated for half a second. "What are you waiting for?" he snapped. My breath caught, but I moved. The room was small. Quiet. Warmly lit. And in the center of it. "Mumma?" The word slipped out of me without permission. She stood up so fast the chair behind her toppled. "Aarohi!"
Her voice. Her voice. The sound shattered something inside me.
She crossed the room in seconds and pulled me into her arms, tight, desperate, trembling.
Her familiar scent, medicine, turmeric, something warm and old, wrapped around me like a memory I hadn't realized I was starving for.
I broke. All the control. All the training. All the rules. Gone.
I buried my face into her shoulder and cried, silent at first, then shaking, broken sobs that ripped out of my chest like something dying.
"Mumma..." My voice cracked painfully. "Mumma.
.." She cupped my face, her hands frantic, touching my hair, my cheeks, my shoulders, checking me like she was afraid I might disappear.
"My child... my baby..." she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "What did they do to you?"
I tried to speak. I tried. But the truth clogged my throat like blood.
"I... I..." My voice trembled violently.
"I'm... o-okay..." She shook her head immediately.
"No. No, you're not." Her eyes moved to my cheek, still faintly discolored.
"Your face... your voice... Aarohi, you look so thin.
" I swallowed hard. "I... c-can... speak.
.. n-now," I said, forcing a weak smile. "See?"
Her lips trembled. "You shouldn't have to prove that," she whispered fiercely, pulling me back into her arms. I clung to her like a child, hands gripping her saree, fingers digging into fabric like if I let go, she'd be taken away again.
"I was so scared," she murmured. "They wouldn't tell me anything.
No calls. No visits. I thought..." Her voice broke. "I thought I lost you."
My chest tightened painfully. "I'm... h-here," I whispered.
"I p-promise." She pulled back slightly, holding my face between her palms. "Did he hurt you?
" she asked quietly. The room felt suddenly too small.
The door behind me was open. Veeransh stood there.
Watching. Listening. My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
I shook my head quickly. "No," I said. The lie slid out easier than the truth.
"He... he just...." My mother looked at me like she didn't believe a word.
But she didn't push. Not now. She kissed my forehead softly.
"You don't deserve this," she whispered.
"No matter what, you don't deserve this. " Tears spilled down my cheeks again.
"I k-know," I whispered. "I j-just... miss you.
" She hugged me tighter. "I'm here," she said firmly.
"I won't go anywhere. And neither will you.
" I wanted to believe her. But the reality stood behind me like a shadow.
Time passed too fast. Too cruel. A soft knock sounded.
Veeransh's voice followed. "Five minutes. "
My mother stiffened. "Five minutes?" she snapped, turning toward him.
"She's my daughter, not your property." His gaze didn't waver.
"She's my wife," he said coldly. "And this meeting was allowed because she fulfilled her condition.
" My mother's hands tightened around me protectively.
"She's not well," she said. "Can't you see that?
" "I can see enough," he replied flatly.
My throat tightened painfully. "Mumma...
" I whispered. "It's... o-okay." She looked down at me, eyes shining with fury and helplessness.
"Promise me something," she said softly, gripping my hands.
"Promise me you'll stay strong." I nodded.
"I w-will... t-try." She pressed something into my palm, a small cloth wrapped tightly.
"Keep this," she whispered. "It's with you now. "
I didn't open it. I didn't need to. It was her blessing.
Her protection. Her love. She kissed my forehead one last time.
"I love you," she whispered fiercely. "I l-love.
.. y-you... t-too," I replied, voice breaking but whole.
Veeransh cleared his throat sharply. I stepped back slowly.
Each step felt like tearing myself apart.
My mother stood frozen as I walked toward him, her eyes following me like she was memorizing my face. At the door, I paused. Turned. Looked at her one last time. She smiled through tears. I forced one back. Then I stepped out. The door closed behind me. And just like that, the world narrowed again.
Veeransh walked ahead of me, his steps steady, unbothered. But inside me, something had changed. I had seen her. I had heard her voice. I had survived. And no matter what came next, I wasn't completely alone anymore.