Page 24 of Mrs. Rathore

“Have you given Mummy her medicine?” I asked, skipping any greetings.

“Yes,” he replied gently.

“Did you take yours?”

“I did, sweetheart.”

“Has Aarav gone to school?”

“Yes… and he misses you. We all do.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. I clutched the phone closer, pressing it to my ear like it could transfer my love through the speaker. “I miss you all too, Papa… Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

He paused. “How are you feeling there?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” I said honestly. “Rhea and Mr. Rathore are kind… caring, even.”

“And your husband?” His voice was careful, unsure.

I hesitated. “Nope. But I’ll make him good,” I said with a light laugh, masking the bruise of truth.

Papa chuckled softly. “I think my son-in-law has a good heart, Avi. Don’t judge the book by its cover. Maybe he’ll surprise you with his kindness.”

I rolled my eyes. If only he knew what kind of surprise Aryan had given me. Yesterday he almost choked me with that necklace, crushed my wrist with those bangles, and those cruel words...

“I need to go take a bath, Papa. You take care of yourself. Okay?”

“I will. Bye, my sweetheart.”

“Bye, Papa.”

I ended the call and pressed the phone against my chest. Every word I exchanged with him made it harder. I had never imagined a day would come when I’d leave my family like this abruptly, painfully, without a real goodbye.

“You’re up, Bhabhi!” Rhea’s voice chimed as she bounced into the room, glowing like sunshine. “You look beautiful with your hair down.” She glanced around and her eyes caught on the flowers on the floor, my discarded jewelry… and Aryan’s sherwani near the wardrobe.

“Wait, what’s this?” she gasped, reaching out to brush my neck. “Looks like last night was… rough.”

The mischievous glint in her eyes made me cringe. She must’ve seen the faint red mark from the necklace and was already weaving her own romantic fairytale.

“I must get it from...”

“Please!” she cut in quickly, laughing. “Spare me the details.”

She handed me a steaming cup of tea. “Now go freshen up. So many guests are coming to meet the new bride.”

I blinked. “But… what am I going to wear?” I asked, looking down at my mother’s worn saree.

“Don’t worry! I’ve got so many surprises for you.” Her eyes sparkled. “I had your blouses and kurtis stitched last night by our family tailor. He works fast. Just take a shower, put on abathrobe, and I’ll get your suitcase ready. I’m so excited to dress you up!”

“Thank you,” I said with a real smile. She nodded and left the room with a grin.

I stared down at the tea, took a few sips, but it tasted like ash. My body was too tired, my heart too heavy. I grabbed my crutches and headed to the bathroom. Inside, I locked the door and slowly disrobed, letting the fabric slip away. The cool stream of water from the shower hit my skin, washing away the sweat, pain, and traces of yesterday.

My legs wobbled under the pressure, but I braced myself against the wall. The shower was long, but it gave me strength. By the time I stepped out, wrapped in a bathrobe, I felt like a fragile version of myself clean, yet unsteady.

Twenty minutes passed. Still no Rhea.

Then the door creaked open. I turned.

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