Page 75 of Mrs. Rathore

I answered and repeated the same lie, my voice calmer this time.

Then came Kavya, her face popping up on a video call to make sure I was still breathing.

“Stupid girl,” I muttered fondly once she hung up.

Finally, I was alone again.

I opened the video once more, watching myself struggle in that water. I hadn’t noticed who recorded it, and I hadn’t even thought to look. I had been too busy trying not to drown.

I opened Instagram, and my inbox was flooded with messages. But I was only looking for one.

Prashant.

There he was.

“What was that, Avi?

What the hell happened?

Who did this to you?

Was it a prank? Did someone push you? I swear I’ll beat the crap out of anyone who tries to hurt you.”

A small smile tugged at my lips.

“Hey, calm down. It was nothing. I just slipped. Nobody pushed me. I was near the edge, watching the fish, and didn’t realize how close I was…” Another lie. Another soft stitch in the patchwork of denial.

“Are you okay?

Yes.

Give me your number.”

I typed it in.

Seconds later, my phone rang, and an unknown number flashed across the screen.

He called. Just like that.

I hesitated. My thumb hovered. Then I answered.

“Hey, Avi…”

His voice. Deep, smooth, grounded. So much had changed in ten years; we had grown up and grown apart. But the familiarity in his tone wrapped around me like a thread, pulling me back to a time when everything felt simpler.

He used to protect me. Now, even through the phone, I could feel that instinct in his voice.

“Are you there?” he asked.

I bit my lower lip. “Your voice has changed so much,” I whispered, still staring at the screen as if I could see his face through it.

“So have you, Avi,” he said quietly. “How did this happen?How’s married life? When did you get married? Was it love or arranged? Where the hell was your husband when this happened?”

“So many questions,” I teased with a weak smile.

“There’s so much I want to say… but I don’t know if I should,” he replied.

“My marriage is… good,” I lied again. “I got married a month ago. Arranged. My husband’s nice; he just… wasn’t there at the moment.”

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