33
SHIVANI
Maa insisted that I should come with her.
She was going to meet my mother, and I didn’t want to go back there.
Why would anyone want to go back to hell?
But I didn’t know how to refuse. I had no reason to, at least not in the eyes of everyone here.
I haven’t told anyone, and I can’t now. I’d rather pretend to be okay than gain anyone’s sympathy— especially this family —because this is my family, and I don’t want them to pity me too.
I’m sitting in the living room with Maa, waiting for my mother to arrive.
I glance around and see her first—she’s looking at us from her balcony.
All that I see in her eyes is the hatred.
Hatred for me . A shiver runs down my spine.
She disappears, and soon I hear her footsteps as she comes down the stairs.
It gives me goosebumps—the way she eyes me sitting beside Maa—and I lean more towards Maa in fear.
How children are afraid of ghosts, I’m afraid of this house. Of the people here. Of my past.
I clutch my kurti tightly. It’s the first time I’m seeing her since Rudraksh bought all her shares.
Aarav told me about it. I guess when Rudra promised me he wouldn't do anything, it didn't account for the business part. I felt happy that someone wanted to take revenge for me, but right now I am terrified. Fear crawls back to me, melting my confidence into a puddle. She’s obviously mad at me by the way she is shooting daggers at me.
My mother and Maa hug each other. Slowly, she comes and hugs me too—tight, tight enough that it hurts. They sit on the couch, making small talk here and there.
And all I feel is uncomfortable. I fidget under her stern gaze and keep staring at my lap.
“Can we keep Shivani here tonight?” My mother asks out of the blue, and my head snaps at her.
No.
Oh no. No, no, no, no. Please, no. Please tell me it’s a nightmare. Please, someone wake me up. A sharp breath stuck in my throat, and I don’t dare breathe.
Before Maa can respond, I say, “No.”
They both look at me—Maa surprised and my mother staring at me dangerously.
“I haven’t informed Rudraksh. He won’t like it,” I add quickly, trying to remedy the situation.
Maa laughs. “You won’t believe these two have been inseparable,” she grins, telling Maa about it. “It’s okay, Shivani. I’ll talk to him. He won’t mind staying away from you for a day.” She pats my thigh in assurance; I am anything but that.
I try to smile, but I can’t muster it. So, I nod. I rack my brain for any excuse—any reason I can give to avoid staying here. But I can’t think of anything that would sound believable.
The rest of the conversation is a blur—my mind fixated on my own thoughts and worries.
I feel like I’m being suffocated, unable to breathe.
The walls of this house feel like they’re closing in on me, trapping me in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I want to call Rudra, beg him to not let me stay here—but I can’t.
“Shivani,” I feel a little push. “Shivani, beta, are you okay?” Maa asks me, her eyes full of concern.
I nod, not able to utter a single word. I can see my mother smirk from the corner of my eye. My eyes sting with unshed tears; I don't want to stay here.
“I was saying, I’m going to go.” Maa squeezes my hand and pats my head.
Please, don't go.
I feel a lump in my throat. I want to shout at her, plead with her to take me with her. “You enjoy, okay?” She says with a soft smile as she walks towards the entrance. My heart thuds aloud, and tears threaten to spill out.
My mother walks her to the door, and my head spirals. Someone, please save me. Save me, please.
“Follow me.” Her harsh voice echoes before I even see her.
Her foot comes into view, and I can’t move. I try to, but it feels like I am stuck. She steps forward, but I remain frozen.
“Move, you bitch.” She grabs my arm and pulls me up, harshly, her fingers digging in my flesh. A lone tear escapes my eye. Why am I so weak? Why can’t I fight her? I’m an adult now, and still I obey her without a word.
She drags me to my room. The place that was my hell and heaven both. The one that kept me safe, yet broke me too. She pushes me in, and I fall on the ground.
“You had sex?” She demands. I shake my head, humiliation filling me up as I steady my blurry gaze on the ground.
“Of course, you didn’t. Rudraksh is a smart man after all. He wouldn’t want to be near you.”
I want to shout at her. Tell her that it’s not true. That he kisses me every chance he gets. That he likes me. He likes me. He likes me, I repeat to myself. She can’t manipulate me about that. I can’t let all his care, his efforts, go to waste because of her words.
“He’ll soon realize what a worthless girl you are.
He’ll leave you soon,” she continues. “Look at you. What an ugly creature I’ve birthed.
” The tears don’t stop, but I can’t let her put me down.
Rudra wouldn’t like it. I can’t be this weak.
I have to be strong. I have to fight my demons.
To gain confidence. To be worthy enough to walk beside Rudra.
“You’re jealous,” I say slowly, as tears gather in my eyes.
“What?” She asks, her voice booming.
“You’re jealous of me,” I repeat. I look at her—she’s blurry through my tears. “I’m beautiful. You’re not.”
Slowly, I stand up with aching knees. “I am beautiful. You’re not. Beauty isn’t just about looks. It’s also about the heart.” I take a step toward her, gathering all the courage I can. “Your heart is black. You’re not beautiful from within.”
I stare into her eyes as my heart thuds in my ears. She looks at me with her mouth agape, speechless and shocked. I’ve never spoken to her like this. Never dared to stand up to her. But the way she was talking about me—about Rudra—it ignited something in me. Something strong and defiant.
“You?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“I’m jealous of you?” She laughs maniacally, throwing her head back. “You’ve become arrogant, huh?” She glares at me as he raises her hand to slap me, but I stop it. I catch her hand before she can even hit me.
I’m not going to back down. Rudra would be proud of me if he knew.
“Why are you so afraid of me telling anything to Rudra?” I ask instead. Her face goes pale at my question, and I push her hand away.
“He took away your shares. If he wants, he’ll take the company too,” I say, moving toward her, my voice coming out dangerously low. “Don’t touch me again. I’ll tell him everything otherwise.”
Then, I meet her eyes and find her face is red—anger or embarrassment, I don’t know. But she doesn’t say anything further. She storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
A shaky breath exhales through my mouth as I sit on the bed, my heart racing and my breathing uneven. I can still feel the adrenaline coursing through me, making my hands tremble. I can’t believe I just stood up to her.
I close my eyes and try to calm myself. I take deep breaths, and I rub my chest. Slowly, my heartbeat slows down. My breathing steadies. I feel a sense of accomplishment. A new sense of confidence. But it is soon replaced by panic.
What have I done?
Oh no. She’s going to tell Father everything. And no matter what—I can’t fight him. I know what he’s capable of. He has no remorse. He might as well kill me.
Oh my God. What have I done?
The thought of what he might do to me makes my blood run cold. Images of all the worst-case scenarios flood my brain. My heart races again. Dread settles in my stomach. I have to think of something. Some way out. The door bursts open before I can move.
It’s my father. He’s angry—the angriest I’ve ever seen him.
My blood runs cold, and a lump forms in my throat.
I am afraid. That’s an understatement. He walks in with his thundering steps, and my breath ceases.
My mother is just behind him. She closes the door behind her, a triumphant smirk on her face.
“Take off her clothes,” he says to my mother, and she smirks at me. My eyes widen, and tears fall freely. No. I haven’t been given that punishment since I was twelve.
“No. No, Father, please—” But he sits on the chair, lighting his cigarette. My mother walks toward me.
“Don’t worry. It’s not what you think,” she says, still smiling. How can she enjoy this—being a woman? She unzips my anarkali; it pools around me on the ground. They stare at me.
“You’ve gained weight,” my mother comments. I can’t think of anything to retort back but cry.
“Ugly pig,” my father taunts, taking off his belt.
My eyes widen. Not the belt. Please. He hands it to my mother, and she whips it across my back. I stumble with the sharp impact and fall to the ground. The piercing pain stretches out on my back, and a wince escapes from my mouth.
“Count,” she commands through her gritted teeth as she does it again, and I scream.
“Count—or this goes on forever,” she warns, before pulling back the belt again.
“One,” I whisper, broken. Humiliation engulfs me, and I don't dare raise my eyes from the ground. From the peripheral vision I catch my father watching, entertained. He looks at me like a hungry predator. What a horrible man he is!
I wince every time she hits me; tears spring to my eyes as burning pain spreads out across my back.
It goes on for a while, and I’m in pain—unbearable pain.
“That’s it, Meera,” my father finally reminds my mother. “We have to return her tomorrow.” My mother backs away, then bends and forcefully lifts my chin.
“You know how to hide these scars, don’t you?” She asks, there's a triumphant shine in her eyes as she looks at me, and I sob. What kind of monster is she?
“Speak up.” She urges me to speak, tightening her hold on my chin.
“Y-Yes,” I manage to let out a choking whisper.
“Good. Do it then,” she mutters and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
“You’ve started talking back,” my father nears me and comments, blowing smoke into my face.
I cough as I take in the disgusting smell of the cigarette.
“You’re not afraid?” He asks and frowns as he tuts, “You should be, Shivani.” He walks to the table, mixes a tablet into a glass of water, and places it down.
“Drink it. It’ll help with the pain.” He moves to the door, but before stepping out of the room, he stops but doesn't turn around.
“And yeah—this was your last warning. Breathe a word, and your husband will be dead. Maybe his brakes fail. Maybe an electrical short circuit? I’ll let you choose.”
He pauses, looking back at me. Threats lay clear in his words and tone.
“So stop trying to be brave. You’re not. And you’re not beautiful either.” He walks out, and I crumble, breaking into pieces as I cry. Like always, that's all I ever do.
I remember the number of times this has happened—them torturing me and leaving me to cry.