26 ~ Fresh Start
Chahat's POV.
The cafe was quieter than usual.
I sat across from Ishika and Ina, my fingers wrapped tightly around the cup in front of me. The coffee had gone cold, but I hadn't even noticed.
Their expressions were serious, confused and worried.
They had been staring at me ever since I told them what Kartik's father had demanded.
I finally broke the silence.
"I've made my decision."
Ishika's eyebrows drew together. "Chahat, ek baar phir se soch lo."
(Think about it one more time, Chahat.)
I looked at her.
My voice rose before I could control it.
"Kya sochu?" I leaned forward, my palms pressing against the table. "Mera husband shaadi ke baad bhi kisi aur aurat se mil raha hai. Uski woh..." I stopped, disgust twisting my expression. "Samaira mujhe message karke dhamki de rahi hai ki Kartik uska hai."
(What am I supposed to think about? My husband is meeting another woman even after marriage. His... Samaira is messaging me and threatening me, saying that Kartik is hers.)
They looked at me with worry.
My eyes burned. "Usne mujhe kaha ki main usse door rahun." I continued, unable to stop now. "Apne hi husband se door rahun main?"
(She told me to stay away from him. Should I stay away from my own husband?)
The words tasted bitter.
Neither of them said anything.
I swallowed. "Uske father ko heir chahiye na?"
(His father wants an heir, right?)
Ishika immediately shook her head. "Chahat..."
"I'll give him one." I said feeling guilty already.
Ina stared at me.
Ishika looked as though she'd forgotten how to breathe.
I leaned back.
"And then I'll divorce Kartik and leave."
"You're serious?" Ina whispered.
"Completely."
Ishika's eyes filled with concern.
"Chahat, tum gusse mein ho. Tum hurt ho. Tumhe lag raha hai Kartik Samaira ke saath hai..."
(You seem angry. You're hurt. You think Kartik is with Samaira...)
"Lag nahi raha." I cut her off. "Maine dekha hai."
(I'm not just thinking it. I've seen it.)
She squeezed my hand and I blinked my tears back.
My voice cracked.
"Reception mein woh uske saath locked room se bahar aaya tha. Uske baad jab maine pucha to usne kuch nahi bataya mujhe..." I stopped, my cheeks burning despite myself. "Uske baad uske phone pe Samaira ka phone aaya aur woh bina kuch explain kiye uske paas chala gaya."
(At the reception, he came out of a locked room with her. After that, when I asked him, he didn't tell me anything...)
I laughed bitterly.
Ishika opened her mouth.
I didn't let her speak.
"And she even dared to messaged me."
My fingers curled into fists.
'Leave my Kartik alone.'
The words still echoed inside my head.
I felt humiliated all over again.
"Us aurat mein itni himmat kahan se aayi ki woh mujhe kahe ki mera husband uska hai?" My eyes stung. "Because she thinks she has a place in his life." I looked down. "And maybe she does."
(Where did that woman get the courage to tell me that my husband belongs to her?)
Ina reached across the table and held my hand. "Chahat... Please calm..."
I pulled my hand away. "No."
My voice trembled. "Don't tell me to calm down."
I took a shaky breath.
"Maine har cheez tolerate ki hai. Forced marriage. Uska attitude. Uska control. Uska arrogance."
(I've tolerated everything. The forced marriage. His attitude. His control. His arrogance.)
I looked at them.
"But this?" My voice dropped "Main apne husband ki mistress se competition nahi karungi."
(I won't compete with my husband's mistress.)
Ishika's face fell. "Toh tum Kartik ko manipulate karogi?"
(So you're going to manipulate Kartik?)
I stared at her and nodded, "I'll make him believe I want him."
Ina's eyes widened. "What..."
"He doesn't need to know about the deal." I said it more firmly this time. "He'll think I've changed. He'll think I finally accepted this marriage."
"And then?" Ishika asked quietly.
"Then I'll have his child." My throat tightened. "His father gets what he wants." I paused. "And I get what I want. My freedom."
Ishika's voice cracked, "Par Kartik ka kya?"
(But what about Kartik?)
Something inside me snapped.
"Kartik ka kya?" I laughed, but tears escaped my eyes. "Usne mere baare mein socha tha?" I wiped them away angrily. "Jab woh Samaira ke paas ja raha tha, tab usne socha tha main kya feel karungi?"
(What about Kartik? Did he ever think about me? When he was going to Samaira, did he think about how I would feel?)
They were silent. None of them said anything.
I gulped down, "Jab woh uske saath tha, tab usse yaad tha ki main uski wife hoon?"
(When he was with her, did he remember that I'm his wife?)
I shook my head and took a deep breath.
"Toh main kyun sochu?"
(Then why should I think about him?)
Ina looked conflicted. "Because you're not like him."
I froze.
The words hurt more than I expected.
"I know it's wrong, Ina." My fingers trembled slightly. "But I'm tired."
I swallowed.
"Everyone keeps deciding things for me. My parents decided whom I would marry. His family decided what I should do after marriage. His father decided what I should do with my own body. And apparently some other woman has decided that I don't even have a right over my own husband."
I looked up at them.
"So for once..." My voice steadied. "I'm going to make my own decision."
Ishika's eyes softened. "Chahat, don't destroy yourself just to punish Kartik."
A humourless smile touched my lips. "I'm not punishing anyone I'm doing it because I want my life back."
I looked at both of them.
Neither Ishika nor Ina said anything.
And for the first time, even I wasn't sure whether I was making a plan...or destroying myself.
By the time I reached home, the heaviness in my chest hadn't disappeared.
I had spent the entire ride back thinking about my conversation with Ishika and Ina.
I pushed it away the moment I stepped into the mansion.
I didn't want to think about it anymore.
Not tonight.
As I entered the living room, I noticed Krish, Seema Chachi and Dadi sitting together on the sofa. A large old family album was spread across the centre table.
Dadi immediately noticed me.
"Chahat, aa gayi beta?"
(Chahat, you've come, dear?)
I nodded. "Haan, Dadi."
(Yes, Grandmother.)
"Idhar aao. Tum bhi dekho."
(Come here. You look too.)
I hesitated before walking over.
Krish moved slightly, making space for me.
I couldn't help but smile.
I picked up the glass of water sitting on the table and took a few sips before looking down at the album.
The pages were filled with photographs from years ago.
Some black-and-white, some faded with time and some so old that the edges had begun to curl.
Dadi turned another page.
"Yeh dekho..." She pointed toward an old photograph.
(Look at this...)
I leaned closer.
It was a young man standing proudly. He didn't look like father-in-law.
"Ye Dadaji hain?" I asked.
(Is this Dadaji?)
Dadi's face softened. "Haan." She smiled faintly. "Inki bahut ichha thi... army join karne ki."
(Yes. He really wanted to join the army.)
I looked at the photograph again. "Really?"
"Haan." She laughed quietly. "Bahut koshish ki thi inhone. Lekin circumstances ki wajah se nahi kar paaye."
(Yes. He tried very hard. But he couldn't because of the circumstances.)
There was something strangely tender in the way she spoke about him.
I smiled. "Toh phir business mein kaise aaye?"
(Then how did he get into business?)
Dadi shrugged. "Zindagi ne jo raasta diya, us par chalna pada."
(Life made him follow the path it gave him.)
For a moment, everyone became quiet.
Then Krish flipped another page. "Ye dekho!"
(Look at this!)
I looked down and froze.
There was a photograph of Kartik but not the Kartik I knew.
Not the cold, intimidating businessman who could silence an entire room with one look.
This Kartik was perhaps five or six years old.
His hair was slightly messy, cheeks were round and he was smiling directly at the camera.
My lips curved before I could stop them. He was actually cute.
"Ye Kartik hain?" I asked.
(Is this Kartik?)
Krish laughed.
"Haan. Bachpan mein bhai chubby the..."
(Yes. Brother used to be chubby when he was a child...)
"Chahat pati ka naam nahi lete." Seema Chachi scolded.
(Chahat, don't take your husband's name.)
"To rakha kyun hai unka naam!" She shrugged.
(Then why did you name him that?)
Krish bursted into laughter.
She looked annoyed and irritated.
I turned the page and another photograph caught my attention.
A beautiful woman was holding little Kartik in her arms.
She had delicate features, long hair and an incredibly warm smile.
I stared at her.
"Ye...?"
(Is this...?)
Dadi's expression softened instantly. "Siya."
"Kartik ki maa?"
(Kartik's mother?)
She nodded. "Bohot khoobsurat thi."
(She was very beautiful.)
I looked at the photograph again.
There was something gentle about her face. Something that made it impossible to look away.
"She was beautiful," I murmured.
Dadi smiled. "Bahut achhi bhi thi."
(She was very good too.)
I looked at little Kartik again then at his mother.
A strange thought crossed my mind.
"Waise..." I asked casually, "Kartik ka koi bhai ya behen nahi hai?"
(By the way...Doesn't Kartik have any brothers or sisters?)
The room suddenly became quieter.
Dadi's fingers stopped on the edge of the page.
"Tha."
(He did.)
I looked at her.
"Kartik ka ek bada bhai tha." Her eyes lowered. "Premature baby tha. Aathve mahine mein hi wo hogaya tha, lekin woh bach nahi paya."
(Kartik had an elder brother. He was a premature baby. He was born in his eighth month, but he couldn't survive.)
My chest tightened.
"Oh..." I didn't know what else to say.
She gently turned the page.
"Wo waqt sabke liye bahut mushkil tha."
(That was a very difficult time for everyone.)
Before she could say anything else, a deep voice came from behind us.
"Maine kaha tha na...ki us baare mein is ghar mein kabhi koi baat nahi hogi."
(I told you, didn't I... that no one in this house would ever talk about that.)