Chapter - 18
I had to find a phone and I had to find it today because enough was enough.
All I had done was made a genuine request to let me just talk to mumma once and that tyrant man refused without even listening to me properly, I even promised him that I will not talk to Papa but he still did not pay any attention to my words.
"Ranaji, aapne mujhe apni patni banaya hai na, toh bhugatna toh padega kyunki mai sabki baat sunne waali party hoon nahi." I muttered to myself, looking at his coat jacket that was carefully placed over the chair.
It looked annoyingly perfect. Crisp. Expensive. Like everything about him.
I folded my arms and stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, as if it might answer back.
Fine.
If he wouldn't let me make a call like a normal human being, I would improvise. I wasn't asking to run away. I wasn't plotting anything. I just wanted to hear my mother's voice. Just once. That shouldn't feel like a crime.
There was no chance in hell that his jacket had a phone lying in some pocket but hope is a very weird thing, specially when you know that you will be left disappointed.
"Nahi Parthvi, you will not touch that man's coat." I chided myself and turned around to look away.
If there was no phone in this room, then I would look beyond it. Somewhere in this palace, someone would be careless. Someone would be kind. Someone would leave a door half-open.
Ranaji might run this place with discipline and silence, but people lived here.
I walked slowly, barefoot against the cold marble, my shawl pulled closer around me. I didn't know where I was going, only that standing still would drive me mad.
I passed two closed doors. Then another turn.
That's when I saw a room and I walked towards it. There was no one inside but some handbags and a few other things were kept around, probably meant to be the attendants' resting area.
The TV was on.
The sound hit me first.
"...sources confirm that the sudden marriage has raised several questions—"
I froze.
My eyes lifted to the screen and my stomach dropped so fast it felt like I had missed a step on the stairs.
My face stared back at me.
My face stared back at me.
Not a still image.
A video.
Me, laughing, music too loud in the background, my arm thrown around one of my friends at a party. The clip cut. Another followed. Photos from college. My name scrolling in bold letters at the bottom of the screen.
Parthvi Sharma.
Age. Degree. University.
My college campus flashed next. Then my marksheets. Actual marksheets. Zoomed in, highlighted like they were evidence in a trial.
"What the hell..." I whispered.
The report didn't stop.
They showed my internship offer letter. My employment details. My time at one of the Big Four firms in Delhi. One and a half years, neatly summarised like a bullet point on a resume. Then headlines about my MBA admission.
And then, a blurry photograph. Me, in bridal red taken from a distance probably using a drone or something.
My life.
My private, ordinary life being dissected on national television.
"No," I breathed. "Stop, please."
The screen shifted again.
The reporter's voice changed, sharpened with interest, with the kind of excitement that made my skin crawl.
"And now, in a shocking revelation," she said, "sources have confirmed that Parthvi Sharma also runs a highly successful anonymous music channel on YouTube."
My heart slammed so hard it hurt. No, please.
The footage changed.
A dark screen. Soft lighting. A guitar neck visible at the edge of the frame. No face. Just hands. Just a voice.
My voice.
Singing. I used to sing. I have not done that in a weeks.
This fucking palace made me forgot that I used to sing too.
The most favourite part I had about myself.
"This faceless channel," the reporter continued, "has over five million subscribers and was previously believed to be run by an independent artist who wished to remain anonymous. However, we can now confirm that the voice behind these viral covers is indeed Parthvi Sharma."
I staggered back as if someone had shoved me.
"No," I said again, louder this time. "No, no, no."
My palms went cold. My fingers started trembling so badly I had to clench them into fists.
That channel was mine, indeed. My own little secret.
No one new, absolutely no one.
The reporter kept talking.
"Viewers have praised her voice for years without knowing her identity. Fans are now flooding social media with reactions....."
"Shut up," I whispered, shaking my head. "Shut up."
My breathing turned uneven and I pressed a hand to my chest like it might stop my heart from tearing itself apart.
"How did they find it?" I asked the empty room, my voice cracking. "How did they know it was me?"
Tears blurred my vision but anger burned hotter beneath them.
"That was faceless." I said, my voice rising. "That was faceless. No one knew. No one was supposed to know."
My legs felt weak. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.
"They had no right." I hissed. "They had no right."
My whole life had just been laid out like a spectacle. My marks. My job. My very own self and now this. The last thing that was only mine.
My thoughts spiralled wildly.
I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking slightly as panic clawed its way up my chest.
And then, I heard my name.
"Parthvi."
His voice.
Behind me.
I spun around, rage and fear colliding so violently it stole my breath.
"Nahi." I screamed. "Mere paas aane ki himmat bhi nahi karein aap Ranaji."
He stopped instantly.
Good.
I pointed at the television, my whole body trembling. "Is this your doing?" I demanded. "Is this what you wanted? To parade my life in front of the world?"
"Parthvi....."
"They showed my marksheets," I continued, my voice breaking. "My job. My college. My face. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
I laughed, hysterical and broken. "Of course you don't."
I turned back to the screen and then to him again, rage pouring out unchecked.
"And that singing channel?" I screamed. "No one knew about it. No one. It was faceless. Anonymous. It was mine. The only thing I kept for myself."
My chest heaved as I looked straight at him.
"Thank you, Ranaji." I said bitterly. "Thank you so much for that. For taking even that away from me."
He took a careful step forward.
I didn't move.
"I did not authorise this, Parthvi." he said, low and controlled. "And I will shut it down."
I laughed again, tears streaming freely now.
"Oh, you'll shut it down?" I scoffed. "How generous of you. After it's already out. After everyone already knows."
I stepped closer, my hands curling into fists.
"This happened because of you." I said, "Everything that's happening to me is because of you."
He stiffened.
"No one would care who I am, what I studied, where I worked or what I do in my free time if I was not your so called wife." I continued.
I laughed, sharp and bitter. "But suddenly I'm interesting because I'm your wife."
I pointed at the television again, my hand shaking.
"They didn't dig this up on their own," I accused. "They dug because your name is attached to mine.
His jaw tightened but he didn't interrupt.
"And my singing?" I screamed. "That was faceless. That was anonymous. No name. No face. No background. I protected it. I protected myself."
My voice broke violently.
"You took that too."
I moved forward and struck his chest with both palms, anger pouring out of me with no place to go.
"This is on you," I cried. "All of it. Every camera. Every article. Every stranger who knows things they had no right to know."
I hit him again. Harder.
"You didn't just marry me," I sobbed. "You erased me Ranaji."
He didn't move. Didn't stumble. Didn't even flinch.
My strength drained out of me all at once, like someone had pulled a plug.
I swayed, my legs giving way, and the next thing I knew, I was pressed against his chest, my hands fisting his shirt as a broken sound tore out of me.
I hated this. Hated that I was crying into him. Hated that my body was betraying me like this.
I cried hard, helplessly, my tears soaking into his shirt, my breathing coming apart in uneven gasps.
"This is your fault," I whispered into his chest, the words falling out of me between sobs. "You did this to me."
My hands twisted in his shirt, fingers locking tight like if I let go, I would collapse straight onto the floor. My hands twisted in his shirt ever more, fingers locking tight like if I let go, I would collapse straight onto the floor.
"I didn't even tell my friends," I whispered. "I didn't tell my family. I didn't tell anyone."
My fingers loosened for half a second and then clenched again, like my body remembered how to hold on before my mind did.
"They took it," I choked. "They took it and put it on a screen like it was just entertainment."
My throat burned. My chest hurt. My hands slid down his shirt helplessly until my palms flattened there, trembling.
"I can't even look at it now," I whispered. "I can't even listen to my own voice anymore."
My head shook against his chest. Once. Twice.
"I don't know where to go," I cried. "I don't know what's left."
My breath hitched badly. My body sagged forward, all the strength gone. My legs stopped holding me up.
That was when his hands came fully around me. One hand braced my back, the other steady on my shoulder, keeping me upright when I couldn't do it myself. He didn't pull me closer, but he didn't let me fall either.
"I was careful," I sobbed. "I was always careful."
"I hid my face," I said, my voice raw. "I hid my name. I hid everything because I knew what the world does once it thinks it owns you."
My fingers tightened again, nails digging into his shirt without me meaning to. My hands hurt. My chest hurt more.
"That was the only place I felt safe," I cried. "One place where no one knew who I was. Where no one was watching me. Judging me."
My head shook against him, helpless, frantic.
"And now you have taken that away from me too."
My head lifted sharply from his chest and my eyes burned as I looked up at him, really looked at him, at the calm in his face, at the control that never left him even when I was falling apart in his arms.
"You do this," I said, my voice rising again, trembling with fury.
"Your Daadisa was right. You all will always ensure that no matter what, I don't forget my place in your place.
I am an abomination here and I guess that's how I deserve to be treated according to you all.
Why am I even questioning you and blaming you?
I made this choice myself." I closed my eyes.
An ugly laugh came to me.
"So why am I surprised?" I asked again, "Why am I standing here pretending I wasn't always going to be reduced to something unwanted, something tolerated at best?"
My throat tightened, but I pushed through it.
"I am here because of a blood debt and every time I forget that, every time I think I'm allowed to be human here, something like this will always happen to remind me that I am not."
My hands slipped from his shirt and fell to my sides. Even my crying slowed, breaking off into shallow, exhausted breaths.
I stepped back and wiped my face with the back of my hand, not bothering to hide the mess of it.
What are you doing Parthvi? Why are you showing your weakness to him? Why are you giving him that satisfaction of being affected by what he does? What's done is done.
"So this is it," I said quietly. "This is how it works."
He said my name again, lower now, careful. "Parthvi, listen to me."
I didn't look at him.
"I had nothing to do with this," he said. "I would never even think of doing something like this Parthvi. I did not leak anything. This was not ordered by me or my family."
I stared at the wall past his shoulder, my gaze unfocused.
"It will stop airing," he continued. "I will have it pulled down. Every clip. Every article. Social media, news channels. All of it."
His voice hardened, steel slipping through the control. "And the people responsible for this will be dealt with. Every single one of them."
I nodded once. He was free to do whatever he wanted because he had the money and power.
He frowned slightly, like that wasn't the response he'd expected.
"This should never have happened," he said. "And it will not continue."
"Koi baat nahi Ranaji. Aapko isse zyada zaroori kaam honge, I'm sure. After all, aap Raja hain yahan ke." I found myself speaking, and surprisingly, I felt nothing.
"If you need anything else," I went on, my voice calm to the point of cruelty, "let me know."
He frowned slightly.
"My birth certificate?" I offered. "School ID? Medical records? My first salary slip from Deloitte?"
A pause.
"I'll bring them to you myself," I added. "Save your people the trouble of digging."
Something dark flickered across his face.
"You don't need to explain," I said. "And you don't need to reassure me."
My eyes didn't soften. Didn't accuse either.
"I understand my place very clearly now."
I stepped back, putting deliberate distance between us.
"So please," I finished, voice cool and polite, "do whatever you think is necessary."
I turned away before he could respond and did not look back. I had to go back to the room and be alone.
But I did not cry again. I sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, staring at nothing, letting the last tremors leave my body. When they did, I stood up, washed my face, changed into clean clothes, and tied my hair back in a bun.
The rest of the day passed in silence.
I picked up a book from the shelf and sat on the couch by the window as the light shifted from afternoon gold to evening blue.
By the time the clock chimed eight, I was still there on the same page.
The door unlocked.
I didn't look up.
He entered and closed the door behind him.
"Parthvi," he said after a minute.
I turned the page.
"All the footage is down," he continued. "Every clip. Every article. The channels have issued retractions. Social media links are being taken down as we speak."
Silence.
"No re-uploads will stay up," he added. "My team is monitoring it."
"Hmm." I responded, clutching the book tighter.
He waited, clearly expecting more but I had nothing to say really.
After a moment, he spoke again, more quietly. "It should not have happened."
I hummed again.
This time, I didn't even turn the page.
Whatever he had fixed, whatever he had erased, whatever power he had exercised, it no longer mattered to me.
Everything was already out in the open.
"Will you let me borrow your laptop for five minutes?" I found myself asking him, keeping the book down.
He didn't answer immediately.
For a second, I thought he wouldn't.
Then he reached his desk, took his laptop and held it out to me without a word.
I took it from him.
Our fingers brushed. Barely.
I opened it. There was no password.
I logged in to my YouTube account and there were about one million notifications there in the past four hours itself.
I clicked on settings.
He hadn't moved from where he stood, but I could feel him watching now.
I went straight to account options.
Delete channel.
A warning popped up.
My cursor hovered.
"Parthvi."
I didn't look at him and took dragged my fingers to bring the cursor onto the Delete button and was about to click it when I found my wrist between his fingers, pulling my hand away, just a little and I froze more from the shock of the contact than the interruption. His hand was warm against my wrist.
"Don't," he said.
I finally looked at him.
"Don't do this." he added.
My laugh came out breathless, brittle. "This is not up for you to decide, Ranaji."
He didn't let go.
"I am not deciding," he said. "I am asking you not to do this."
That made my chest ache in a way I didn't expect.
I tried to pull my hand back. He loosened immediately, his fingers sliding from my wrist to my knuckles, then falling away altogether.
"The very foundation of this channel was shaken today, Ranaji. I made it because it was an outlet for me to sing without having the burden of anyone knowing about it. Thats gone now." I confessed to him honestly.
His jaw tightened.
"I should have protected you." he said, his eyes softening just slightly.
"Nahi Ranaji, meri raksha karna aapka kaam nahi hai. Aapne khud hi toh bola tha ki aap meri kahani ke villain hain aur villains ka kaam kisi ko bhi protect karna nahi hota." I scoffed and moved my hand back to the scrollpad, finally hitting the confirm button, deleting my account forever.
I closed the laptop slowly.
"It's done," I said, mostly to myself.
Silence stretched between us.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and unguarded in a way I hadn't heard before.
"I failed you today."
I let out a breath that might have been a laugh on another day.
"You cannot fail people you never promised anything to, Ranaji."I replied.
I stood up, placing the laptop back on his desk.
"I will never ever sing again." I whispered, promising myself and holding that one tear from falling off.
"Parthvi, please. Don't do this to yourself. I promise, nothing like this will ever happen again to you." He said, walking up to me and turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders, making me look at him.
My throat tightened but I pushed through it.
"For you, this was a crisis to be managed," I continued. "For me, it was a home being broken into. You can secure the doors later and you can punish whoever broke in but I still know what it felt like to stand there and watch them touch things that were never theirs."
His fingers tightened just a little around my shoulders and I looked away from his face to the side.
"I know," he said.
"I am sorry, Parthvi. I truly am but I cannot ask you to forgive me for what happened with you today, just yet. But I am sorry for it, nonetheless." he said, his voice dropping just a bit.
"But I need you to hear one thing," he added, his voice dropping even further.
"Aapka dukh aur aapki khamoshi meri jeet nahi hai, Parthvi aur agar meri duniya aapse kuch chheen le, jaisa ki aaj hua hai, toh uska bojh main zindagi bhar uthaoonga aur aapse zindagi bhar maafi maanguga jab tak aap mujhe maaf na kar dein." he said.
"Aapki duniya mujhse mera sab kuch cheen chuki hai Ranaji, bas aap dekh nahi paa rahe hain shaayad ya dekhna nahi chah rahe hain." I retorted because it was the truth.
He didn't argue with me.
"Aapse shaadi karna meri bhi majboori thi, Parthvi aur aapka yahan Ratangarh aana aapki khud ki marzi.
Hum jitni baar yeh saari baatein karenge, utni baar sirf aapko takleef hi hogi toh bas karte hain ab yeh saari baatein karna.
Aapke Baba ne iss parivaar ko bohot dard diya hai aur maine aapko.
Yahan koi sahi aur koi galat nahi hai, sirf dard hai. " his voice was defeated.
I couldn't contradict him because he was not wrong.
Then, he finally turned and left me alone, making me relieved for the distance and I slid down until my back hit the table leg and pulled my knees close, resting my forehead against them.
He was right in his place and I was right in mine.
I stared at the floor until the marble blurred, until my breathing evened out, until the ache in my chest dulled into something quieter. Something survivable.
Today had taken too much from me to grieve everything at once but the cruelest part of this whole thing was that I don't even remember the last time I had held a guitar and sang happily and now, I was never going to, ever.