Chapter 5
Reeva
Seven days. Seven painfully long days since I walked out of the Rajvansh mansion. Seven days since the life I believed was mine came crashing down around me.
I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them as I sit on the bed, my gaze drifting around the room where I grew up.
Nothing has changed. The pale cream walls are still adorned with framed photographs from my childhood, while the bookshelves remain crowded with well-loved novels, trophies, and little keepsakes I collected over the years.
I left this room believing I was walking towards another home. I thought I was trading one safe haven for another. That with Shaurya, I had finally found the place where I would always belong.
I had never been more wrong.
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts.
“Reeva?” My brother’s voice filters through the door.
I quickly wipe away the tears gathering in my eyes before calling out, “Come in.”
The door opens, and the moment he sees me, his expression tightens with concern. It is the same look he has worn every day since I returned home… a mixture of helplessness and quiet heartbreak. Dark circles shadow his eyes, proof that I am not the only one losing sleep.
He walks over, places a steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table, and lowers himself onto the edge of the bed beside me.
“You skipped breakfast,” he says gently.
“I am not hungry, Bhai.”
His jaw clenches, but instead of pressing the issue, he releases a quiet sigh. “I hate seeing you like this, Ree. I’ve been thinking… maybe we should get away for a few days. Just you and me.”
He searches my face, hoping I’ll agree, hoping a change of scenery might somehow lessen my pain. But I know better. Some wounds cannot be healed by distance or time. They simply become a part of you.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to run away.”
“You’re not running,” he argues.
“It would feel like it.”
“Then at least come to the office with me. You’ve spent an entire week locked inside this room. Maybe work will help take your mind off everything, even if it’s only for a little while.”
I force a faint smile. “I am not ready. I just… need more time.”
He studies me for a long moment, then gives a reluctant nod, accepting an answer he clearly doesn’t agree with. Pushing himself to his feet, he says, “Fine. But I’ll be home early today, and we’re having dinner together. No excuses.”
“Okay,” I agree.
He bends and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before walking out and closing the door behind him.
I wrap my arms around my knees again and rest my chin on them as the silence closes in around me, carrying my thoughts back to Shaurya.
I remember the night I fell asleep on the sofa after a long, tiring day.
I stirred just enough to feel him slide one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back before lifting me effortlessly.
Half-asleep, I instinctively curled closer, cocooned in his familiar warmth.
He carried me to our bedroom with such tenderness, as though I were something precious.
After settling me onto the bed, he tucked the blanket around me, brushed a strand of hair from my face, and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead before quietly switching off the light.
A sharp ache blooms in my chest as I return to the present
How many of those moments had been real? How many of those kisses had come from love? How many of his promises had he actually meant?
My phone begins to ring on the bedside table.
I glance at the screen, and my heart clenches when I see Dadiji’s name.
For several seconds, I simply stare at it, my thumb hovering over the answer button.
I haven’t spoken to her since I left.
She has called several times over the past week, and each time, I have watched her name flash across the screen until the call ended. When I couldn’t bring myself to answer, she left a voicemail saying she had spoken to Shaurya and only wanted to hear my voice.
But I wasn’t strong enough to call her back. The wound was still too fresh. Too deep.
And now, with each passing day, the guilt settles more heavily in my chest.
None of this is Dadiji’s fault. She has always loved me as her own. She doesn’t deserve my silence.
Drawing in a slow, unsteady breath, I swipe across the screen and lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello, Dadiji.”
“My child, how are you?”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. “I am… okay.”
“No, you’re not,” she says gently. After a brief pause, she adds, “I miss you. So very much.”
Tears blur my vision as I press my lips together, fighting to keep them from trembling. “I miss you too, Dadiji.”
“The house is unbearably quiet,” she sighs. “No one argues with Hari for putting too much sugar in my tea. No one reminds me to take my medicines. It doesn’t feel like home without you, my child.”
A tear slips silently down my cheek. “I am sorry…”
“Don’t apologise, my child. Just come home.”
Home. The word slices straight through me. My fingers tighten around the phone as every shattered piece of me screams that I cannot go back. Not to the place where the greatest betrayal of my life still lingers in every corner.
“I can’t…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t come back, Dadiji. I loved him with everything I had.” I draw in a shaky breath. “And he used that love against me.”
Dadiji is silent for a moment. Perhaps she knows there are no words powerful enough to mend a shattered heart.
“I understand. You don’t have to come home to prove you’re my child,” she finally says, her voice soft. “No matter what happens, you will always be my granddaughter, and I will always love you.”
A sob escapes before I can stop it. “I love you, Dadiji.”
“And I love you, my child. Always.”
We remain on the call for another minute, neither of us willing to be the first to say goodbye. When the line finally goes silent, I lower the phone into my lap and stare blankly at the dark screen.
Until this moment, I have been mourning the loss of my marriage. But now, I realise I have lost so much more than that.
I don’t know how long I remain sitting there before my bedroom door opens and Meena Aunty walks in, carefully balancing a breakfast tray in her hands. The familiar aroma of freshly made aloo parathas fills the room.
I take a moment to study her. At nearly sixty, Meena Aunty’s hair has turned mostly silver and is neatly secured in a low bun at the nape of her neck. Fine lines fan out around her kind brown eyes, each one a testament to a lifetime spent caring for my brother and me.
“I made your favourite aloo parathas,” she says, placing the tray on the bed before settling beside me. “They’re fresh off the tawa.”
I don’t even glance at the food. “I am not hungry, Aunty.”
“You’ve been saying that all week, and I’ve decided I am not listening anymore.” Meena Aunty tears off a small piece of paratha and holds it out to me. “Just one bite… for me.”
I stare at the piece of paratha in her hand as my throat tightens with emotion. Despite everything I have lost, I am still surrounded by people who love me.
A faint smile tugs at my lips as I lean forward and take the bite from her hand.
Relief flickers across her face. “That’s my girl,” she says warmly.
I force myself to chew, but the moment the food touches my tongue, a violent wave of nausea crashes over me. My stomach lurches so sharply that I barely have time to clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Reeva?” Meena Aunty’s voice turns sharp with concern.
Without answering, I throw aside the blanket and scramble off the bed as another wave of nausea rolls through me.
I barely make it to the bathroom before dropping to my knees in front of the toilet and retching.
One heave follows another, each one leaving my body trembling harder than the last. Tears sting my eyes, my throat burns, and I grip the edge of the toilet as I struggle to catch my breath.
Hurried footsteps sound behind me.
Within seconds, Meena Aunty kneels beside me, gently gathering my hair away from my face as she rubs slow, soothing circles across my back.
“It’s all right,” she murmurs.
Another wave of nausea crashes over me, and I retch again. By the time it finally passes, I feel completely drained. With Meena Aunty’s help, I manage to rise and rinse my mouth before gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady my trembling legs.
“I think the stress is finally getting to me,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Meena Aunty doesn’t respond. Instead, I catch her watching me through the mirror, her expression thoughtful.
“How long has this been happening?” she asks quietly.
I frown. “This is the first time.”
She nods slowly, as though piecing something together, before asking, “Reeva… when was your last period?”
The question sends my heart racing. I turn towards her, my thoughts dissolving into a tangled mess as I struggle to remember.
“I…” My stomach drops when the realisation hits. “I missed it this month.”
Meena Aunty cups my face with both hands. “We need to see a doctor.”
A cold chill races down my spine.
“I can’t… I can’t be pregnant.” My voice trembles as though I am trying to convince myself more than her.
“We don’t know anything yet,” she says gently.
My breathing turns shallow. God… what if I am pregnant?
The possibility crashes into me with terrifying force.
A baby.
Mine and Shaurya’s.
No. Please, God… not now. Not when my marriage is hanging by a thread.
The drive to the clinic passes in complete silence.
I sit in the passenger seat, one trembling hand resting unconsciously over my still-flat stomach as a thousand terrifying possibilities race through my mind.
What if I am pregnant? How can I bring a child into a world where its parents are already falling apart?
And how will I tell Shaurya when I cannot even bear the thought of seeing him?
Each question weighs more heavily than the last until I can barely breathe beneath them.
Meena Aunty parks outside a small women’s clinic, switches off the engine, and turns towards me. Her expression remains calm despite the worry clouding her eyes.
“Let’s go,” she says gently.
I manage a weak nod, step out of the car, and follow her inside.
The antiseptic scent of the clinic greets me the moment I pass through the glass doors. I lower myself into one of the chairs while Meena Aunty walks over to speak with the receptionist. A few moments later, she returns.
“The doctor is ready to see you,” she says softly.
With unsteady legs, I rise and follow her into the consultation room.
The doctor, a middle-aged woman with streaks of silver in her neatly tied hair and a calm, reassuring presence, looks up from the file on her desk. A warm smile touches her face.
“Please,” she says, gesturing towards the two chairs opposite her. “Have a seat.”
We settle into the chairs, and she begins asking a series of routine questions. I answer automatically, barely registering the words leaving my mouth. After making a few notes, she looks up at me.
“I’d like you to take a urine pregnancy test.”
I nod numbly.
A nurse escorts me to the restroom and hands me a sterile sample container. A few minutes later, I return it to her before making my way back to the waiting area.
Meena Aunty squeezes my hand as we sit side by side, the silence between us heavy with anxiety while we wait for the results.
Soon, we are called back into the doctor’s consultation room. She confirms that the test is positive and, based on the date of my last period, I am approximately six weeks pregnant.
I murmur a quiet thank-you before Meena Aunty gently guides me out of the room.
The moment we enter the waiting area, I sink onto one of the chairs, my gaze drifting instinctively toward my stomach.
A baby.
Mine and Shaurya’s.
A thousand emotions crash through me all at once. Shock, fear, disbelief, uncertainty.
Meena Aunty wraps her arms around me, and I cling to her as the dam inside me finally breaks.
“I don’t know what to do, Aunty,” I whisper brokenly as I pull away. “How am I supposed to raise this baby when everything else in my life has fallen apart?”
Meena Aunty cups my tear-streaked face. “You don’t have to decide everything today. Just take it one step at a time.”
I nod, my trembling hand instinctively coming to rest over my stomach.
My baby.
A fierce, almost primal need to protect the tiny life growing inside me surges through every part of my being.
My baby is innocent, and I will not allow my child to become another casualty of Shaurya’s betrayal.
I will shield this baby from every lie, every heartbreak, and every consequence of our broken marriage.
Even if I have to raise my child alone, I will build a life filled with the love, honesty, and security we both deserve.
From this moment forward, my baby comes first. And nothing, not even Shaurya Rajvansh, will stand in my way.