The handkerchief is Khusi's grasp shook and she stumbled backwards, the back of her knees colliding with the bed as she thumbed down on the mattress.
Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, Khusi's stomach churning as memories made their way back into her head.
The same pattern, her favorite color.
"Happy Birthday!" Bhaskar greeted, making Khusi smile in glee at his excitement. Dipping her head down, Khusi giggled as Bhaskar handed her over a present.
"Aww love, you didn't have to." Khusi was beaming with joy realizing that Bhaskar had understood her subtle gesture to get her an actual present that year.
"Open it." Khusi didn't need to be told twice. She tore apart the gift wrapper, unable to control her happiness.
"A handkerchief?" she asked, her brows furrowed as if not expecting it.
"Unwrap it," Bhaskar chuckled at Khusi's quizzical expressions.
"Oh my god. That's so adorable. Aww!" As soon as she unwrapped the handkerchief, her eyes twinkled with joy at the embroidery in the middle of it.
"Do you like it?" Bhaskar asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulder.
"Are you kidding!? I love it! Thanks love!" Khusi hopped up to kiss Bhaskar's cheeks, which made him chuckle once again.
She gasped, her ears ringing, tears making their way down her cheeks as the scenario played in her head, her fist curling around the delicate piece of cloth in rage and grief.
Several questions popped up in Khusi's mind, making her grind her jaw against each other in bewilderment. She wanted answers. She wanted to know why a handkerchief, which her ex-husband had gifted her almost 3 years ago, was in Yuti's closet.
And only one person could do that.
• • •
Without bothering to knock Khusi slammed the door open, striding her way inside the room, her eyes red with anger.
"Mr. Mathur!"
Abhay, who was sitting in front of a framed picture, stood up with flash, his expressions incredulous at Khusi's abrupt appearance.
"Khusi?"
Khusi charged at Abhay and slammed her palm flat against his chest, the handkerchief pressed to his chest.
"Why in hell was this thing in Yuti's closet!?" Khusi spat, her nostrils flaring.
Abhay was too shocked for a second to react, his mouth open at Khusi's bizarre behaviour. But then his gaze fell upon the handkerchief, and it all vanished as he glanced at it with a blank expression.
"Oh, you've found it." Abhay muttered, opening the handkerchief.
If Khusi was confused before this, she was befuddled now.
"What do you mean by that!?"
"Sit down." Abhay grabbed her palm in order to make her calm but Khusi wasn't up for that. Yanking her hand out of his grip, she pushed him away, catching Abahy off guard as he stumbled back.
"What the hell is happening? I want answers," Khusi snapped, her posture rigid.
"Khusi, calm down. I am telling ... "
She didn't let Abhay finish. "You want me to calm down Mr. Mathur!? I just found an old souvenir from my fucker ex-husband in a child's closet, with whom I have been living for the past 5 months. I want an explanation for this and it better be good!"
YOU ARE READING
Not Her
Romance"I don't want to become a mother." This line is a taboo for women in some parts of the world, and so was for Khusi Mukherjee. At the age of 25, independent and single, she wanted to live her life according to her rules. But everything changed when...
