Chapter 35
IRA
It had been one and a half months since I began living with Prashant and his family. Life was just complicated.
Prashant's mother and Priya remained cold and distant, their gazes sharp, their words clipped whenever they addressed me, or rather, whenever they addressed me at all.
There was never any yelling, no direct confrontations, but their silence spoke louder than any scream.
Their disapproval hung in the air like smoke.
But Prashant and Pari, they made it bearable. Pari, with her innocent heart and soft voice, always tried to include me, to ease the tension even when it made her uncomfortable. And Prashant, he was my anchor. My husband.
Even though the shadows of his past still clung to him, even though the nights were restless and his haunted memories woke him up gasping for air, he was stronger and braver.
He was trying and I was right there beside him, holding him close, rubbing his back, whispering through the nightmares that he wasn't alone, not anymore.
I had promised myself I wouldn't let him go again.
We had only two weeks left before we'd return to duty again.
The thought sent flutters through my stomach.
I was finally going to live with my husband, not just under the roof of his family home, but in our own space, our own quarters.
It was the dream I had waited for so long.
I'd get to see his face every morning and every night.
No more stolen moments and no more pretending.
For the first time in a while, I felt like things were finally falling into place.
Even my relationship with my family was shifting slowly. I had started talking to my mom and my brother again. It wasn't the same, but it was a start. My father, though, still hadn't forgiven me. And maybe he never would. But I had learned to live with that pain.
Oh, and Kabir. Yes, he had resurfaced like all cowards do, from the shadows.
A couple of threatening messages came in, full of hollow warnings and desperate anger.
I wasn't afraid of him. He was nothing but a predator who preyed on the vulnerable.
But I wasn't that girl anymore. I'd teach him that women were not weak, not toys and not stepping stones.
He crossed the wrong path, and one day, he would beg to turn back time and never have met me.
But that evening, as I stood in the kitchen preparing dinner, I had no idea that my world was about to turn upside down once again.
"Ira!"
The sharp shout cut through the quiet house. My heart jumped into my throat as I turned off the stove and rushed out of the kitchen. My feet froze when I saw Prashant standing in the living room. His entire body was tense, his eyes blazing with something I couldn't place-hurt, or betrayal?
He held a bundle of papers in one trembling hand, clenched so tightly that the pages were crumpling at the edges.
"What's this?" he snapped, raising the papers in front of me.
My stomach turned.
"What's what?" I asked, trying to sound calm, though my pulse was beating fast and hard under my skin. Something was terribly wrong, I could feel it.
"Our house papers!" he roared, flinging the documents in my face.
They hit me before fluttering to the floor, and I took an involuntary step back, stunned by his fury more than the impact.
"Prashant, what happened to the house papers?
" I asked carefully, my voice was lower now.
I bent down slowly to pick them up, my fingers shaking just slightly, but- "You owned our house?
" His voice cracked from disbelief. I looked up, meeting his eyes.
"You put this property under your name?" he asked, almost choking on the words. "You paid off the full amount?"
"Prashant, no..." I reached out instinctively, trying to explain, but before I could finish, he grabbed my forearm tightly, his grip rough, his stare piercing like a dagger. His pain bled through his rage, it was written all over his face.
"I never expected you could go this low..." he ground out, making me wince as his grip tightened further. "Did you pay the loan amount?"
"I never meant to..."
"Did you pay the damn loan amount!" he screamed into my face.
And that's when it hit me.
This wasn't the same Prashant I'd fallen in love with. This wasn't the man who held me when I cried, who whispered my name like it was precious. This man was a stranger. He was the same man who was being held captive for three months in a dark room.
My lips trembled. "Yes... yes..." My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "I did."
A beat passed. Then I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps. His mother and sisters had joined us.
I turned slightly, only to see them standing near the stairs, their expressions unreadable except for one. His mother.
Her face curled in satisfaction, as if this was exactly what she had been waiting for.
"Why?" Prashant asked, his tone colder now. "Why would you do this, Ira?"
"I just wanted to lighten your burden," I said softly, trying to pull my hand from his, though he didn't let go. "You were struggling so much... I thought... I thought I could help. I didn't know they'd put it under my name..."
"Shut up!" he barked, making me freeze in fear.
There was a silence in the room so loud it rang in my ears.
"You see, Prashant?" his mother said sharply, stepping closer. "This is the kind of woman you married. Sweet on the outside, but sly inside. She's clever, I'll give her that. Came into our house, won your trust, and now she owns it."
"Shameless," Priya added, crossing her arms with a mocking smirk. "Isn't it funny? We were worried about her background. We should've worried about her intentions."
I stared at them in disbelief.
"I never meant for this to happen," I whispered, my eyes finding Prashant's again. "Please believe me."
But he just stood there, jaw clenched, breathing hard. And in that moment, the silence between us hurt more than his shouting.
"You tricked him," Priya said with clenched teeth. "What else have you taken, huh? His pride? His peace? Or maybe just his pity?"
I opened my mouth to speak, to scream, to defend myself but before I could utter a word, Pari stepped forward.
"Stop it!" she said, her voice trembling but still brave. "Bhabhi didn't do anything wrong! She helped when we all turned our backs..."
"Enough, Pari," her mother snapped, turning to her with fury. "You don't understand anything. Stay in your limits!"
Pari's lips quivered as her courage slowly deflated, her gaze lowering to the floor, defeated. She couldn't do anything. No one could do anything except Prashant but he was burning with betrayal.
"I thought you've changed, Ira," he said coldly, finally releasing my arm but not before I felt the angry red marks blooming on my skin.
His eyes bore into mine, no longer full of love, just hurt and disbelief.
"But you're still that same selfish woman.
I never needed your charity. I never asked you to be my savior. "
"It wasn't charity!" I stepped toward him, my voice shaking. "It was care, Prashant! You were breaking. I just…I wanted to help you and to do something good for us."
"For us?" he sneered. "You mean for you. You wanted control, didn't you? A little power play in your perfect little fantasy life. You really thought you could buy my house, my pride, and I'd just keep quiet?"
His words struck deeper than anything ever had. I stood frozen, unable to believe this was the same man I had stayed up with on dark nights, the same man whose scars I kissed and whose fears I held in my arms.
"I can't stay here," he said after a beat, looking away like he couldn't stand the sight of me. "Since this house belongs to my wife I'll just make it easier for everyone."
With that, he stormed upstairs, the air crackling behind him.
His mother watched him go, then turned back to me with a smug expression. "Good. Now let's see how long your ownership means anything without a husband under this roof."
I just stood there, numb. Minutes passed before I heard his footsteps upstairs, they were loud, and angry.
I heard drawers slammed, cupboards opened and shut.
I stood at the bottom of the staircase, gripping the banister to keep myself upright.
Pari tried to approach me, her eyes filled with apology, but one look from her mother sent her retreating.
I watched as Prashant descended the stairs with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a suitcase in the other. He didn't look at me, not even once.
"Prashant, please..." I took a step toward him.
"Don't," he muttered, brushing past me.
I turned slightly, reaching for him, just to stop him, just to make him look at me but in his hurry, in his pain, he shoved me too roughly.
I stumbled.
The edge of the staircase blurred, my vision spun, and before I could catch myself...
Thud.
Pain burst through the back of my head like fireworks. For a moment, everything was white, soundless. I could only hear my panicked breathing.
Suddenly, everything from my past came rushing back, Amish taking advantage of me, my father slapping me even when it wasn't my fault, Kabir punching me. And now... Prashant. He had pushed me. Pushed me down the stairs.
No... no, no, no.
He wasn't like them. He was different. He was my Prashant, my loving, gentle Prashant. He couldn't hurt me. He would never hurt me... right?
"Ira!"
His terrified voice, not angry but full of terror, cut through my thoughts. I blinked, vision hazy, as I felt strong arms gather around me.
"Ira, no... no, no, no..." he whispered, over and over, his face ghostly pale. "I didn't mean to... I didn't..."
I could feel warmth trickle down the side of my head. My fingers brushed sticky and wet liquid.
Blood.
His hands were trembling as he cupped my face. "Ira, please, look at me," he begged, eyes wide, voice breaking.
I wanted to speak, to tell him I was okay, but my lips wouldn't move. I could hear screaming, Pari maybe and then another voice saying to call an ambulance.
"I was angry," he kept saying, I heard a tremble in his voice. "I should've listened. I should've trusted you. Please, I didn't mean it. I hurt you again. I fucking hurt you again. Fuck I hurt you…!"
As darkness crept at the edges of my vision, I wondered if love alone had ever really been enough. Sometimes his madness went so far that it only subsided after hurting me. He came to his senses only after causing me pain. _______