24
I drove back home, my hands trembling on the steering wheel, heart pounding like a war drum. The streets were empty, silent-just like the space inside me. But my mind... my mind was chaos.
Dattatriya.
His voice, his words, that look in his eyes-it all played on a loop, over and over again, like some cruel reminder of what we could be... but weren't.
"You're my goddess. My prayer."
Then why push me away?
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to blink away the burning in my eyes. My lips still tingled from the kiss. It wasn't just a kiss-it was a scream, a plea, a confession. And yet... he rejected it. Rejected me.
Why is he doing this?
He says he loves me. Says I'm his peace. Then why is he letting me go?
I pulled into the driveway, the house dark except for one light in the living room. Everyone must have gone to sleep. I sat there in the car, not ready to face anyone-not even myself.
He's scared.
Not of me. But of losing me. Like he lost his mother. Like he lost himself.
I let out a long breath and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel.
I should hate him for pushing me away. For yelling at me. For making me feel unwanted even after baring my soul. But I couldn't. Because beneath that cold armor, I had seen it.
The pain.
The fear.
And the love.
He loved me. But he didn't know how to love without destroying. And that terrified him more than anything.
I finally got out of the car, walked into the house, and up to my room. Everyone was asleep. Even Sheraa lifted his head, yawned, and curled back next to the bed.
I dropped onto the bed, still fully dressed, eyes staring at the ceiling.
One tear escaped.
Then another.
But I wasn't crying because he didn't love me.
I was crying because... he did.
And he still let me walk away.
The sun was already up high when I finally stirred. I blinked slowly, disoriented by the brightness slipping through the curtains. My head pounded dully, and as I sat up, the heaviness in my chest returned-sharp and bitter. I glanced at the clock.
11:00 AM.
I had cried myself to sleep. That was obvious from the sting in my eyes and the puffiness that no amount of cold water could hide. Images of last night slammed into me-his voice, his touch, the kiss, and then his rejection.
I forced myself out of bed and into the bathroom. The shower was too hot, too long, but I needed it to wash away the ache clinging to my skin like a memory.
After dressing in a soft yellow frock, simple and airy, I tied my hair up loosely and headed downstairs. My legs felt heavier than usual, like they carried not just my weight, but a hundred thoughts I couldn't shake.
As I stepped into the living room, I saw them-my world.
All my brothers were there. Gyan and Dyan bhaiya were arguing over some business issue.
Bhairava bhaiya sat silently with Arya bhabhi, who looked radiant even in her simplicity.
Papa was sipping his tea and reading the newspaper, and little Utsav was sprawled across the couch with his phone, feet up, utterly absorbed.
I didn't say a word. Just walked up to Bhairava bhaiya and collapsed onto his chest, curling up like a tired child.
He looked down immediately, concern darkening his face. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around me tightly, protectively. I closed my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of comfort, trying not to break again.
Arya bhabhi noticed first. "Katha, what happened bacha?" she asked gently, her voice a balm.
I knew everyone was now looking at me.
Utsav paused his game. "Di, are you okay? Your eyes look... swollen."
Dyan bhaiya straightened up, face already tensing.
Bhairava bhaiya's arms tightened around me. "Who made you cry, Katha?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous.
I shook my head slowly, pulling back just a little, managing a weak smile. "Nothing... I'm just not feeling well," I lied.
But no one bought it.
Arya bhabhi exchanged a glance with Bhairava bhaiya. Gyan bhaiya's brows furrowed deeper. Utsav sat up, clearly confused. Even Papa lowered his newspaper, watching me with quiet eyes.
I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell them that I had gone to Dattatriya. That I had kissed him. That he had pushed me away again.
So I stayed silent.
And let my lie hang heavy in the air.
The entire day had passed, yet I hadn't taken a single bite of food. My body was starting to ache from the emptiness, but my heart-my heart ached far more. I lay motionless on my bed, staring at the ceiling as the fan spun slowly above, humming its dull rhythm.
Sheraa was curled up on my stomach, his soft fur rising and falling with each of my shallow breaths. Every now and then, he would lift his head, look at me with those big, warm eyes, and let out a gentle purr-as if trying to soothe the chaos inside me.
I stroked behind his ear absentmindedly.
My mind wouldn't stop replaying the moment.
His voice. That kiss. The way he flinched and pushed me away. The way he whispered "Go home, Katha" like it was killing him.
I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to erase it. But it was branded into my soul now.
There was a knock on the door. A soft, hesitant one.
Before I could even answer, it creaked open, and Arya bhabhi stepped in with a tray. Her eyes scanned the untouched food on my bedside table from earlier, then moved to me and Sheraa.
"You still haven't eaten, have you?" she asked gently, setting the tray down beside the bed.
I didn't answer. Just turned my face away.
She came closer, sat on the edge of the bed, and ran her hand through my hair like Ma used to.
"I know you're hurting, Katha," she whispered. "You think keeping quiet and starving will make the pain go away, but it won't. You have to face it. Or at least... share it."
My eyes burned, but I didn't cry. I was tired of crying.
She picked up a piece of roti, tore it slowly, and held it in front of my mouth.
"Just a bite," she said softly, like I was a child again.
Sheraa nudged me with his nose as if to say listen to her.
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth. Just a bite.
She smiled faintly and fed me more. Neither of us spoke. She didn't ask. I didn't tell.
But in that moment, the silence said enough.
Arya bhabhi gently wiped my mouth with the corner of her dupatta, then set the empty plate aside. She looked at me with so much concern, love radiating from her gaze.
"You were fine till yesterday night, bacha," she said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "What happened in the night?"
I looked at her. Her words opened a dam inside me I had tried so hard to keep shut.
And without another word, I collapsed into her arms, the sobs ripping out of my chest like they had been caged for years.
She held me tightly, one hand stroking my hair, the other gently rubbing my back like I was a little girl again.
"I-I went to his place," I finally managed to whisper between sobs. "I yelled at him, I asked him why... why he didn't stop me, why he didn't say anything. And he... he said he's scared to lose me. He said he loves me but thinks he's too broken to be with me."
Arya didn't speak. She just let me talk. Let me cry.
"And then I- I kissed him, bhabhi... I kissed him. And he pulled away... he told me to go... he yelled. I left. I left like a fool. Why did I go? Why did I feel like... like he would hold me back?" my voice cracked as I buried my face in her shoulder.
Arya sighed deeply and pressed her lips to my head.
"Oh, my sweet Katha... you're not a fool," she whispered. "You're just... in love."
I stilled. That word.
Love.
"I don't know what to do," I whispered. "I'm supposed to marry someone else. But I can't stop thinking about him, bhabhi. His eyes... his voice... his pain. It haunts me. It's like he's carved somewhere deep inside me."
Arya slowly pulled back and cupped my face.
"Then listen to your heart," she said firmly. "Not your fear. Not your past. Not anyone's expectations. You deserve a love that makes you feel alive, not just safe. If it's Dattatriya... then don't let him walk away again."
Her words stayed in the air between us, heavy, powerful, terrifying.
And somewhere deep inside... I felt the war begin again. Between what I had to do and what I wanted to do.
"Come what may," I whispered to myself, eyes still full of unshed tears, "I have to choose... me."
Arya squeezed my hand.
And for the first time in days, I felt like maybe-just maybe-I wasn't drowning.
I sat silently at the dining table, picking at the rice on my plate but not lifting a single bite to my mouth. My appetite had long disappeared-somewhere between last night's kiss and the silence that followed it.
Everyone around me was eating, chatting lightly about the wedding preparations. Utsav was showing Dyan bhaiya some memes, Papa was talking to Bhairava bhaiya about guest lists, Arya bhabhi was helping Gyan bhaiya refill his plate-but I was just... there.
Present. But hollow.
I glanced down and smiled faintly-Sharaa was nestled beside me on the bench, his little feeding bottle clenched tightly in his paws as he happily sipped the warm milk. His half-chewed meat sticks lay beside him like a feast, and he occasionally let out a purr of contentment.
At least someone's heart is full tonight, I thought, softly running a hand over his furry head.
Arya bhabhi kept sneaking glances at me from across the table. She knew. She always knew. I gave her a tight-lipped smile, just to let her know I was okay even though I wasn't.
Papa noticed I hadn't eaten. "Bacha, you didn't eat anything," he said gently. "Everything alright?"
I nodded. "I had something earlier," I lied. "Still full."
Bhairava bhaiya raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Maybe he sensed it wasn't the time.
Everyone respected the silence I needed-my family never forced me to speak when I didn't want to. But I could feel their quiet concern like a constant hum in the air.
I reached for a glass of water and took a small sip, more out of habit than thirst. My mind wasn't in this house anymore.
It was still at that dark doorway...
Still with him.
Still hearing his voice saying go home, Katha.
But how could I, when every part of me... wanted to stay right there with him?
I looked down again at Sharaa, now sleeping peacefully against my side.
"I wish life was this simple," I murmured softly, too quiet for anyone to hear.
But deep inside, I knew... this storm wasn't over. Not yet.
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