Chapter - 16
I kept pacing the room back and forth, from window to door, door to bed and back to the window.
The carpet was soft under my feet, but it did nothing to calm the restless energy buzzing through my body. My hands kept opening and closing like they were searching for something they couldn't find.
More than one month had passed since I had seen them. Heard them. Since Papa's voice had said my name the way only he did. Since Mumma had asked if I'd eaten properly and then not believed my answer. One month since I had fought with Jai Bhaiya and then complained about him to Ruhani bhabhi.
Did they think I was okay?
Did they think I had adjusted?
Did they even know that I was married now?
But I think I knew the answer to my last question. I think most of the country knew that Rana Rudra Adhiraj Raisinghania had married some girl yesterday.
I stopped near the window again, pressing my palm flat against the glass. Everything in this palace felt controlled. Even the silence.
I needed to call home.
It didn't matter how many times I told myself there was nothing I could do. My body didn't listen. My chest kept tightening like it was waiting for something.
I turned around, restless.
Who do I even ask except for Pankhuri but that might put her in a problem.
The question made me laugh softly, bitterly.
I didn't know where Rudra was. I didn't know his schedule, didn't know which part of the palace he occupied at what hour. I didn't even know who I was allowed to speak to unless spoken to.
The attendants came and went occasionally. They smiled, asked if I needed anything.
Anything.
I wanted to scream every time that I want my phone!
Instead, I said no and watched them leave.
I paced again.
I tried sitting on the bed. Lasted two minutes. Tried standing still. That felt worse. Tried distracting myself by rearranging the books on the shelf. I put one back upside down and didn't even notice until later.
My mind kept drifting back home.
I hugged my arms around myself and leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. I wasn't homesick. Homesick felt too small a word.
I felt untethered.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
Before I could answer, the door pushed open.
"Priii!!!"
I looked up just in time to see Ishaan run in, his energy filling the room instantly. He stopped short when he saw me standing there, eyes wide.
"Were you sleeping like a horse Pri? They also stand and sleep! I have seen it so many times in the stable!" He said enthusiastically.
I blinked at him, then let out a short, surprised laugh.
"No," I said. "I was not sleeping like a horse."
He looked disappointed. "Oh." Then immediately brightened. "But you were standing!"
"Yes, because I was thinking."
He frowned at this like thinking while standing was a suspicious activity. "Why didn't you sit?"
"I did. Then I stood again."
"That's weird," he decided.
"That's fair," I agreed.
He wandered further into the room, kicking his slippers off halfway and leaving them in the middle of the floor. He climbed onto the bed and bounced once.
"Everyone is very boring today," he announced. "Daadisa is busy. Papa is busy. Mamma is busy, Bade Papa is busy. Even the rabbits are sleeping."
"Sounds like a very serious problem." I said.
He nodded solemnly. "That's why I came here."
I smiled despite myself. "Lucky me."
He rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin on his hands, staring at me. "Why are you walking so much?"
I hesitated and the lied. "Because I ate too much food."
He studied me the way children do, like they're trying to solve a puzzle without knowing all the pieces.
He didn't look convinced.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he could see straight through the lie.
"When I eat too much, I go to sleep." He said, making me laugh.
"You know I love sleeping too." I told him honestly and went to sit next to him.
He brightened immediately at that.
"I sleep everywhere," he declared proudly. "On the sofa. On the floor. Once I slept under the table and everyone got scared."
"That sounds dangerous," I said gravely.
"No," he shook his head. "I was very safe. Papa was not safe. He hit his leg."
I snorted before I could stop myself.
He beamed. "It made a big sound. Like dhum."
"That poor table," I said.
"No," he corrected me. "Poor Papa."
We both dissolved into giggles.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "If you sleep in the afternoon, Daadisa says you become lazy."
"And if you don't sleep?" I asked.
"Then she says you become weak," he replied promptly.
"So what are we supposed to do?"
He thought very hard about this. "Sleep a little. Not too much. Like this much." He held up his tiny fingers with a serious expression.
I nodded. "Very wise."
He puffed his chest. "I know many things."
"I can see that."
He flopped onto his back again, staring at the ceiling. "When I grow big, I will sleep whenever I want."
"That is an excellent life goal," I said.
He turned his head sharply. "You can also."
I smiled softly. "Maybe."
He rolled back onto his stomach and crawled closer, peering at me. "Pri, do you know how to snore?"
"I do not snore," I said automatically.
"Yes you do," he accused. "Everyone snores."
"I absolutely do not."
He grinned, clearly enjoying this. "Okay, then show me how you sleep."
I lay down dramatically on the bed, folded my hands over my chest and shut my eyes. "Like this. Very quietly."
He watched for two seconds, then shook his head. "No. You are pretending."
I sat up again.
"You little cutie, come here." I said and pulled him on my lap and started to tickle him a little.
He squealed immediately.
"Nooo....Priii.....stop....stop!" he laughed, kicking his legs wildly as I tickled his sides.
"That is not a very strong request," I said seriously, tickling him a little more.
He laughed harder, breathless now, face turning pink. "Okay okay okay! I surrender!"
I stopped at once, holding him steady as he collapsed against me, still giggling. His hair was all over the place now, sticking up at odd angles.
He slid off my lap and sat cross-legged on the bed, suddenly serious again. "Pri?"
"Yes?"
"Why don't you go outside?"
The question caught me off guard. "Outside where?"
"Anywhere," he said with a shrug. "You are always inside."
I didn't know what to say to that.
Before I could find an answer, the door opened again.
"Ishaan," Pankhuri said gently, already smiling. "Football academy."
His face fell instantly. "Now?"
"Yes, now."
"But I am busy," he protested, gesturing at me. "We are sleeping."
"You are fully awake," she said, amused.
He sighed dramatically, like a man burdened by responsibilities far beyond his years. He slid off the bed and dragged his feet toward his slippers.
"I will score a goal today," he announced, suddenly determined.
"You will," Pankhuri agreed.
He ran back to me suddenly and wrapped his arms around my waist in a quick hug. "Don't sleep like a horse again," he said seriously.
"I promise I won't."
Satisfied, he ran out, chattering about footballs that didn't listen and shoes that were too tight. Pankhuri paused at the door and looked back at me, her smile soft.
"He loves you," she said simply.
Before I could reply, she was gone.
The door closed and I started pacing again.
It must have been more than an hour since Ishaan left and I had finally seated myself on the couch because my legs were tired. The sky outside had turned a dull orange by the time I heard footsteps in the corridor.
The door opened.
Rudra walked in.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked.
I hadn't even realised the lamps weren't lit.
"I didn't notice," I said.
He glanced toward the window, then switched on the lamp nearest the door. Warm light filled the room and it felt too bright suddenly to my eyes.
He stood near the door, jacket still on, posture straight like he had just stepped out of a meeting and not into a room where someone was barely holding it together.
I didn't wait.
"When do I get my phone back?"
He looked at me then. Really looked. Like he was measuring whether this was worth answering.
"When I decide," he said.
I stood up so fast the couch shifted slightly.
"You don't get to decide that," I said, my voice sharp. "That's not yours to decide."
"It is," he replied calmly.
That calm made me furious.
"I haven't spoken to them in a month," I said. "One month. Do you know how long that feels when you don't know if they're okay? When they don't know if you're okay?"
He walked further into the room, stopping a few feet away from me.
"You are fine," he said.
I laughed. It came out broken and ugly.
"Oh, am I?" I asked. "You've decided that too?"
His eyes hardened.
"You took my phone," I continued. "You took my home. You took my life and dropped me here like I was some piece on a board. And now you won't even let me hear my mother's voice?"
He stepped closer.
The space between us disappeared. I could feel the heat of him now. His presence pressed down on me without him laying a hand on me. I had to tilt my head up to look at him.
"You will not raise your voice at me," he said.
"I will do whatever I want," I snapped. "You took my phone. You took my choice. You dragged me here and now you want silence too?"
His jaw clenched. I saw it. The crack.
"Watch yourself," he warned.
"Why?" I shot back. "What will you do? Take something else?"
"You are not a prisoner here." He said as his jaw clenched but I doubted even he believed his own words.
"Even prisoners," I continued, my voice shaking now, "are allowed one phone call once in a while, so yes Ranaji, I'm not a prisoner here, I am worse."
That did it.
His control shattered.
He stepped so close I had to step back instinctively. My spine hit the edge of the table behind me.
"Do not," he said, voice sharp and furious, "compare yourself to a prisoner in my house."
"Then stop treating me like one!" I shouted.
The room rang with it.
"You locked me away from my family," I said, tears burning but not falling. "You decided I don't deserve their voices. You don't get to do that."
His hand slammed onto the table beside me.
The sound made me flinch before I could stop myself.
"You think this is about power?" he demanded, eyes blazing now. "You think I enjoy this?"
"I don't know what you enjoy," I said, shaking. "But I know what you're doing."
"And what am I doing?" he demanded.
"Punishing me," I said. "For my father."
His face went still in a way that was far more terrifying than anger.
"You will not say his name," he said quietly.
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking now. "Because it hurts you?"
His eyes burned.
"That man," he said slowly, each word like stone, "put a bullet through my mother's heart."
My breath caught.
"And he did not stop there," Rudra continued, stepping even closer, his voice trembling with rage he barely held back. "He crushed my father. Left him alive enough to suffer and dead enough to never fight back."
His chest rose sharply.
"I was seven." he said, voice rough now, stripped of polish. "Old enough to understand exactly what was happening. Old enough to hear my mother scream. Old enough to watch my father fall apart piece by piece and know there was nothing I could do."
My fingers curled against the table behind me. I didn't move. Couldn't.
"I stood in a hospital corridor," he went on, eyes locked on mine, unblinking. "And I learned what helplessness really means."
His voice lowered.
"So do not," he said, "tell me about pain."
Something twisted in my chest, sharp and ugly.
"I am not him," I said, my voice hoarse. "And you know that."
His mouth tightened.
"Knowing something," he said, "and feeling it are two very different things."
"Ranaji, I promise that I will not speak to him. But please, please let me at least just hear the voices of my other family members, please." I didn't care if I was begging at this point.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he laughed.
It was short. Sharp. It held no humor at all.
"You promise?" he said. "Your promise means nothing to me."
The words landed like a slap.
I stared at him, something hollow cracking open in my chest. "Then what does?" I demanded. "What exactly do you want from me?"
He stepped closer again, deliberately, until there was nowhere left for me to retreat. The edge of the table pressed into my lower back.
"What do I want from you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost quiet.
His face was inches from mine now. I could see the tight line of his mouth, the flicker in his eyes that hadn't settled since he walked in.
"I want silence," he said. "I want you to stop asking me for things I will not give."
My breath came fast. "You want me to disappear," I shot back. "That's what you want."
His hand came up, not touching me, but braced on the table beside my waist. The sound of it landing there made my stomach twist.
"You are still standing here," he said. "Still arguing. Still looking at me like you think you can wear me down."
"Because I won't stop, I won't just accept this.
I am my own person, Ranaji and the fact that we are in a sham of this marriage does not change who I fundamentally am.
So you will now have to destroy all the phones in Ratangarh if you want to make sure that I don't call my family. " I challenged him.
He leaned in further, so close that if either of us moved even a fraction, we would collide.
"You will not go behind my back." he said.
I laughed. It came out sharp, almost wild, even to my own ears.
"And what exactly will you do if I do?" I asked. "Follow me into every room? Stand guard outside my thoughts too? Or lock me in one of your kal kothris forever?
His jaw tightened. He leaned in just a fraction more, his forehead almost brushing mine.
"Say that again," he said quietly.
"Why?" I whispered back, my pulse roaring in my ears. "Does it bother you when I remind you what this place really is?"
"You enjoy pushing," he said. "You like testing how far you can go."
"I go as far as I have to," I said. "Because you don't take me seriously unless I'm loud. I did try asking in the most polite manner when you stepped in here, didnt I?"
He closed his eyes briefly, as if he was trying to control himself from saying something but I don't understand why. Why control? Just say it to my face and get done with it.
He then opened them, all the anger replaced with that calmness in less than three seconds.
"Get yourself together and come down for dinner." He said before talking one step away from me.
Then he turned and left me alone in his room.
I stood there for a few seconds longer, staring at the wood like it might open again if I waited.
It didn't.
"Dinner? To hell with him and to hell with dinner." I muttered and walked to the edge of the bed and sat down slowly.
My bangles were the first to go.
I slid them off one by one and let them fall to the floor. Glass against marble. The sound echoed more than it should have.
Then the necklace. Heavy. Cold against my fingers. I unclasped it and dropped it beside the bangles.
The earrings came next. Then the rings.
I didn't rush.
Each piece left my body and hit the floor like it no longer belonged to me.
When I was done, the jewellery lay scattered near my feet, bright and useless.
I stood, crossed the room, and opened my bag.
Grey track pants. An old sweater, soft at the elbows.
I changed and then switched off the lights and laid down on the couch.
I turned onto my side, pulling the sweater tighter around myself.
I closed my eyes but refused to cry. No more crying.
My mind moved, restless even now.
There had to be a way.
Palaces were not built in a day. And they were never perfect.
There were servants who carried trays and cleaned rooms and lingered in corridors. Guards who grew bored during long night shifts. Attendants who talked to each other when they thought no one important was nearby. Rooms that weren't monitored. Corners that weren't watched.
And phones.
There had to be phones.
I exhaled slowly.
Rules only held power as long as you obeyed them and I had no intention of obeying the ones I didn't agree with.
I would observe, I would wait and I would choose my moment because I needed to hear a familiar voice. Needed to remind myself that I existed beyond these walls, beyond this name and beyond this marriage.
If Ranaji was determined to make my life miserable, I was not going to sit here and let him do it without a cost.
If I was going to be miserable, he would be too.
If he does not like colour, I will turn his life into Ishaan's colouring book.
If he does not like black pepper in halwa, I was sure he wouldn't like red chilly power in his ghewar either.
And he will just have to deal with it because no matter how it turned out to be, I was his wife and to make his life a living hell, I will not hesitate to play that damn card.
And as for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I will eat and I will eat without anyone asking me to because well, I would need the energy to make him miserable.
Starting now.
So I wore got up from the couch, wore my flip flops, wrapped a shawl around myself and then struggled to find my way to the dining room because I still hadn't magically grown my sense of directions overnight.