When you smile

Chapter 13

Arya's P.O.V.

"I'm leaving," I shout, my voice reverberating through the house.

"Alright," Mom's voice carries from the kitchen. I shift my gaze to the other end of the table, where Meghana serves breakfast to Dad. I fixate on her, waiting for the usual cutting remarks that never fail to irritate me. The ones that question the worth of my existence, the dismissive words that imply I'm a burden. Will she tell me to get lost? Is this the moment she kicks me out?

But instead, she simply pours juice into Dad's glass without a word. I offer a formal smile to Dii as a farewell, but she responds with an empty stare. After bidding Dad goodbye with a respectful Namaste, I step out of the house. As I walk toward the main road, I gently close the front door behind me.

I must go there... That's the only way to return that stupid's smile. Skipping school goes against my nature, but I'm left with no alternative. I can't rely on Miss Nakchadi for anything—she's too timid to take any action, and she won't allow me to either. The decision to end things isn't hers, so I need to understand why she's backing away when it clearly hurts her. And if that person is the cause of her tears, he'll soon regret it.

Based on his phone conversation... he's afraid of the breakup too... Could their religious differences be tearing them apart? And why is she so terrified? Why does she cry every day? That imbecile's mind is a puzzle to me.

Stepping onto the main road, I sweep the approaching rickshaws with a fervent gaze. One draws near, but despite my vigorous hand-waving, it continues its merry trajectory, a scene I'm all too familiar with. Inke alag hi nakhre hote hai!! After several futile attempts, I finally succeed in flagging down an auto-rickshaw. Hallelujah! Thank you, universe!

"RIAC, M.P. Road, Azadnagar," I announce as I clamber into the rickety vehicle.

"Mam, I'm not headed that way," the driver notifies me.

And now? Am I supposed to stand here all day? I know these drivers are notoriously stubborn unless I practically beg them. "Bhaiya, please take me there. Are you comfortable watching me roast under this blazing sun while waiting for another rickshaw? Please, Bhaiya," I plead.

"Madam, that ain't my usual route. If I step into another driver's turf, the community will fine me," he explains, swiveling around to face me.

Now what? In addition to everything else, I'm clueless about this rickshaw driver's labyrinth of routes. Will I spend my day just hunting for a rickshaw? Ahan also mentioned he's off-limits post 10 am. If that's the case, I can't risk hopping out of this auto. Where the heck am I going to unearth a rickshaw headed to Azadnagar?

"So, you're saying you won't ferry a girl who's hustling to get an education and support her aging, ailing, and financially fragile parents? You're aware my mom forgoes her own meals just to pack my lunch? Month's end is creeping closer, and I need to scrape up the dough for my studies – dad's been slogging away all night for that. The government is rolling out the red carpet for girls, hosting empowerment galas and campaigns to empower them, and yet you can't be bothered to drop a girl to her college?" I vent, shaking my head in dismay.

He studies me for a beat, his face an enigmatic blank canvas before erupting into laughter, "This ain't a black-and-white movie, sweetheart. Come on, at least try for some plausible excuses." My sigh of relief is audible as he redirects his attention to the driver's seat and gets the auto-rickshaw in motion.

According to my Google Maps, a solid 40 to 45 minutes looms ahead before I reach my destination. Feels like an epoch! The rickshaw kicks off, jostling its way through a cacophonous thoroughfare. I glance outside, greeted by a chaotic orchestra of blaring car horns and daredevil motorcyclists darting through traffic as if the roads are their personal slalom. Nothing out of the ordinary. Where's the serene, verdant backdrop that actresses get in those dreamy movies to soothe their souls? Here, all I see is a rat race of horn-honking contenders. It's overwhelming, so I pop in my earphones, queue up a track from my beloved playlist, and let Arijit Singh's mellifluous voice whisk me away.