Page 95 of Mrs. Pandey
I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking in the rain. "Why, Prashant?" My voice cracked, barely audible. "Why?"
But the night gave no answer. Only rain, only thunder, only the echo of a heart breaking into pieces too small to gather.
And as I knelt broken beneath the storm, I knew something inside me had shattered beyond repair. Something I could never get back.
______
The next morning came like any other, though inside me nothing felt the same. I wore my uniform, tied my hair, and walked to duty with a practiced smile. My subordinates saluted me, and Ireturned it, my voice steady, my steps purposeful. I laughed at their small jokes, issued commands, and carried myself like an officer.
But beneath it, I was hollow.
I didn't see Prashant all day, yet somehow, his presence clung to me like smoke. In the mess hall, in the corridors, even in the silence between tasks I felt him. His face, his betrayal.
I forced myself to push it away. No. I will not give him that power. I will not let him live rent-free in my head.
I was done. Done with being treated like an option. Done with this life where love turned into betrayal and vows meant nothing. From now on, I would not take shit from anyone. Not him.
When my shift ended, I walked back to my quarters, exhaustion weighing heavy on my bones. I reached for my keys, but froze as the door was already unlocked.
My pulse quickened.
Slowly, I pushed the door open.
There he was.
Prashant. Standing in my kitchen, chopping vegetables as though he belonged there, as though nothing had happened.
"Good evening, wifey," he said cheerfully, flashing a grin that once would have melted me.
Two days ago, I would have run into his arms, buried myself in his warmth, let his voice wash away my doubts. But now? Now, his sight made my stomach twist with disgust.
I stepped into the kitchen, my gaze fixed on him. He hummed softly as he worked, the knife steady in his hand, the pan already sizzling. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn't broken me.
"Ira...?" He raised his brows, pausing. "Is everything okay?"
The audacity of his question almost made me laugh. Hadn't Riddhima told him what I saw? Or was he pretending?
"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile. My voice was flat, unnatural. Without another word, I walked past him and shut myself in my room.
I stayed there. Thirty minutes in the shower. Thirty more drying my hair, pulling on fresh clothes. Not because I wanted to look nice for him, but because I couldn't bear to face him. I hoped he'd get the hint and leave.
He didn't.
When I finally sat on my bed, I picked up my phone and dialed the one voice I longed for.
"Hey, Mom," I chirped, pitching my voice brighter than I felt. From the corner of my eye, I saw Prashant setting dinner on the table, waiting for me.
"My darling," she said warmly. "You sound happy. In a good mood, hm?"
"Yeah," I said, my throat tight. "I'm just... missing you."
God, I wanted nothing more than to hug her, bury my face in her lap, and cry until I had no tears left. But she was far away, a comfort I couldn't reach. So instead, I filled the silence with meaningless chatter about my duty, my schedule, my aching back. Anything but Prashant.
I sprawled across my bed, the phone pressed to my ear, dragging the conversation longer than necessary. I spoke about my childhood, about silly little things, about anything that kept me from going out to him.
He peeked in once, a questioning look in his eyes. He gestured at his watch.
"It's Mom," I said with a wide smile that felt like a mask. "It'll take thirty more minutes. You can eat. You're getting late anyway." I turned back to the phone before he could answer. "And please close the door on your way out."
