18
SHIVANI
Rudraksh is typing away on his laptop beside me, completely lost in his world of work.
I’m curled up with a romance novel I found in Aditi’s room earlier.
The moment I laid eyes on the cover—dark background, a man in a suit holding a gun—I was already hooked.
Aditi had noticed the way my face lit up and handed it to me without a second thought.
“Next time I go to a bookstore,” she’d said, “you’re coming with me.
” I think she meant it too. That thought alone makes me weirdly warm inside.
The book’s story is wild—the hero is a mafia don who kidnaps the wrong girl but refuses to admit he made a mistake.
He’s arrogant and violent, but more than him, I am rooting for the girl.
I love her sarcastic humor. The girl in the novel fights back.
Me? I shrink myself to fit into someone else's story.
A knock pulls me out of the story. I glance at Rudraksh, who doesn’t move, and set the book down before walking over to the door.
When I open it, Maa stands there with a bright smile.
She walks in casually and looks at the two of us.
Her gaze lingers on Rudraksh, who somehow manages to look distractingly handsome even while drowning in work.
There’s a softness in her eyes, like she’s happy just watching him be at peace around me.
“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 they ruin me.