24. SOMETHING
AAROHI:
Morning comes gently today. Not with pain ripping me awake or fear pressing heavily against my chest, but with soft sunlight spilling quietly across the room like it's trying not to hurt me. For the first time in days, I wake without gasping for breath.
My foot still aches, but the pain feels different now, dull and manageable instead of sharp and unbearable. When I move my toes carefully, the ache answers back softly, like it's finally growing tired of fighting me. A small smile touches my lips before I can stop it.
After bathing, I choose a red kurti without thinking too much about it. Maybe because it reminds me of home, of festivals, of mornings when my mother would smile while fixing my hair and tell me red makes me look alive. The memory settles warmly and painfully inside me at the same time.
I sit in the garden with a towel draped around my shoulders while my wet hair falls heavily down my back, water dripping slowly against my skin.
The air smells fresh and earthy after the night.
I lean forward slightly and dry my hair carefully with the towel, making sure not to lose balance because of my foot.
The bench beneath me feels cool and steady. Peaceful. For once, I don't feel watched. I hum quietly under my breath, not really a song, just soft broken sounds filling the silence around me. Something small that still belongs to me. I don't notice him at first.
I only feel it, that strange shift in the air, like something solid and heavy has entered my space. When I glance up, he's standing near the hallway entrance partially hidden behind a pillar. Veeransh. My heart jumps instantly.
I begin standing automatically out of habit, but before my feet fully touch the ground, his hand lifts slightly toward me. Not sharp. Not angry. Just a silent signal asking me to stay seated. I freeze before slowly lowering myself back down onto the bench.
He's on a phone call, speaking in that calm controlled voice that always sounds steady even when it isn't. Business, probably. Always business. His eyes flick toward me briefly, not cold this time, not harsh, just checking. Then he gestures lightly toward my foot.
"How's the wound?" he asks simply. I blink in surprise before lifting my hand awkwardly in response.
"Fine." He watches me for another second, like he's making sure I'm telling the truth, then turns away and continues his call while walking back down the hallway.
The moment he disappears, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
A tiny smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it.
"Child." I turn quickly. His mother stands nearby dressed simply, her dupatta resting softly over her head.
Warmth immediately fills her face when she looks at me.
"How are you feeling?" she asks gently. "How's your foot?
" "I...it's okay, ma'am," I reply softly.
She smiles faintly. "You can call me mother if you want to.
" The words catch me off guard. My throat tightens unexpectedly. "M...maa
," I whisper carefully. For half a second she stills completely.
Then her face softens into something so warm that my chest aches unexpectedly.
She steps closer and places her hand gently over my head.
"I pray you heal quickly," she says softly.
I nod quickly. "It hurts less now." Relief becomes visible across her face instantly.
"Then we should visit the temple," she says with a small smile.
"It will bring peace to your heart." Temple.
The word alone makes something inside me lift immediately.
I can't even remember the last time I visited one.
"Yes," I answer quickly. "I can go." She smiles warmly. "Then we'll leave today."
I begin shifting carefully to stand when his voice suddenly cuts through the moment from behind us. "Where are you going?" I freeze immediately again. He's standing close now, his phone no longer in his hand, all of his attention focused directly on us. "To the temple," his mother answers calmly.
"I want to take Aarohi with me." His eyes move toward me first, then toward my injured foot, then back toward his mother.
"She's not going," he says flatly. "She can barely walk.
" "I'm okay," I say quickly, my voice steadier now than before.
"I can walk." "She can't stand in long lines," he continues, completely ignoring me.
"She needs rest." His mother frowns slightly. "If she wants to go..." "Mother," he interrupts firmly, though his tone stays controlled. "Not now." Something stings painfully inside my chest. I don't want to disappoint her.
"I don't want to upset you," I whisper softly while looking toward his mother.
"I really am okay." She looks between us quietly, sensing the tension immediately.
"Veer," she says gently, "going to the temple will calm her mind.
" He exhales slowly, irritation visible across his face now.
"She's injured." "I know," his mother replies calmly. "I'll take care of her."
He looks at me again, longer this time, like he's silently deciding something inside his head.
I hold his gaze despite the nervousness curling inside my stomach.
"I really want to go," I whisper softly.
"Please." For a moment I'm certain he'll refuse again.
Then suddenly he says, "Fine." Both his mother and I blink in surprise. "We'll go," he adds shortly.
"I'm free too." My heartbeat stutters unexpectedly.
"You?" his mother asks, clearly shocked.
"Yes," he replies simply. "But she won't walk much.
" "I won't," I promise quickly. His gaze sharpens slightly.
"You will listen." "Yes," I nod immediately.
His mother smiles warmly, satisfied now. "That's good," she says softly.
"We'll go together." As we walk toward the car, he stays close beside me. Not touching. Not guiding. Just present. Alert in a way he pretends not to be. I notice the way his eyes keep flicking toward my steps whenever I move too quickly.
At the temple, the air feels completely different from the mansion. Softer somehow. Warmer. Incense and flowers fill the air while bells ring gently in the distance. The sound settles into my chest slowly, calming something restless inside me. I fold my hands quietly and close my eyes.
For the first time in a very long time, I pray not for escape or freedom, but simply for strength.
"Aarohi," his mother says softly after a while.
"Come with me. Offer the cloth to the goddess with your own hands.
" My heart flutters immediately and I nod quickly.
She holds my elbow gently while guiding me forward through the crowd.
The marble beneath my feet feels cool and grounding.
I carefully take the red cloth from the silver plate, my fingers trembling slightly around the fabric.
For one silent moment, I close my eyes again and whisper something only God hears before lifting the cloth and placing it gently over the idol.
Everything inside me goes strangely quiet. Whole.
His mother smiles proudly before turning toward the priest. "My son is newly married," she says warmly. "Please bless them both." My breath catches instantly. Before I can fully process her words, the priest smiles kindly and reaches for a small silver bowl filled with sindoor.
Then he turns toward Veeransh. "Son," he says warmly, "fill your wife's hairline with sindoor." My heartbeat stops. I freeze completely. I can feel Veeransh standing beside me now, solid and silent and suddenly far too close. His mother places a gentle hand on his arm.
"Veer," she says softly. "Do it. It's a blessing for marriage." For one long second nobody moves. Then I hear him inhale slowly. I don't look at him because I know if I do, I'll lose whatever courage is keeping me still right now. I feel his hand move.
A small amount of sindoor settles between his fingers.
Then his hand lifts toward me. My breath disappears entirely.
His fingertips touch my hairline softly.
Warm. Careful. Certain. He fills my maang slowly in one deliberate motion.
A little of the sindoor slips unexpectedly, falling lightly over the bridge of my nose. I still don't move. I barely breathe.
His mother gasps softly before smiling brightly. "That's such a beautiful sign," she says warmly. My eyes sting instantly. I blink quickly, forcing myself not to cry inside the middle of the temple. We fold our hands quietly again, but something feels different now.
Changed somehow. I don't know what shifted between us inside that moment, but I feel it deeply. When we leave the temple and begin walking toward the parking area, sunlight spills warmly across the ground around us.
The world suddenly feels too bright. Too far away. Dizziness hits me without warning. Not spinning exactly, just fading slowly around the edges. My vision blurs. My knees weaken instantly beneath me. Strong arms catch me before I fall. His.
He pulls me firmly against him, one arm wrapped securely around my back while the other steadies my shoulders. "Aarohi." His mother gasps loudly. "What happened?" "I told you," he says sharply, tension slicing through his voice now. "She can't manage this much."
"I...I'm okay," I whisper quickly, embarrassed and dizzy.
"I just felt lightheaded." His mother looks genuinely worried now.
"Why?" "Standing too long," I murmur softly.
His jaw tightens visibly. "That's enough," he says immediately.
"We're going home. Now." Before I can protest, he lifts me completely into his arms.
I gasp softly and instinctively grip his shoulder tightly.
His mother looks shocked but doesn't stop him.
"She needs rest," he says firmly before carrying me toward the car.
He settles me carefully inside, adjusting my injured foot gently so it rests comfortably.
His mother sits beside me while continuing to watch my face anxiously.
A few seconds later he slides into the driver's seat and starts the engine. As the car moves through the city streets, I lean my head back against the seat slowly, exhaustion pulling heavily at my body now. My maang feels strangely warm. Heavy. Marked.
I don't fully understand what any of this means yet.
But while the city passes quietly beyond the window, one thought settles deep inside my chest. For the first time in my life, something sacred feels like it touched me gently.
And I still don't know whether I should be afraid of it. Or grateful for it.