Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 37

“Hey, do you want to play? You never know when they’ll put a stop to our outdoor activities.” Raima asks but Mishti shakes her head in an answer. 

“Periods.” She says, her hand clutching in her stomach and that disyllabic words is enough for her cellmate to click her tongue in understanding, cooing at her. 

Mishti smiles at the girl who then rushes into another group of girls, immediately mixing up with them. 

Raima is like Mishti’s old self; carefree, spontaneous, and happy. The time when she had been surrounded by people she loved; had Raghav to make her some delicious food when she didn’t feel like cooking; Ranvi irritate her till no end but also make her laugh until she couldn’t breathe; Ruhi to caress her hair to sleep when she felt down on a particular day; and of course, Mihir, her brother, her parents, her everything who would do anything just to see her smile.

Oh, she misses them a lot. 

The cramps in her stomach coincide with the cramps in her heart, making her blink back the stinging tears, wiping them away with the back of her hands. As a childhood habit, the snot soon follows the tears but in prison, you don’t get tissues, and so as she goes to wipe that too with her hand when a handkerchief is flailed in front of her eyes, her hands immediately going to grab it. It is only when she has cleaned up her nose, and wiped the underside of her eyes, does she look up, turning her head slightly to thank the person for the emergency accessory, both the people and accessory being rare to be found in a place like this. 

It is a man, a constable. 

Mishti flinches as she takes in the sight of the uniform, the handkerchief dropping from her hand.

“Th-thanks,” she says because not everyone is the same but is unable to winnow the stutter from her voice, afraid. 

The constable that she hasn’t seen the place before frowns behind his glass-covered eyes, irises of an unusual grey colour, the lower part of the face covered with beard. 

The man then climbs down a step only to keep a hand on her shoulder, bringing his face closer to hers. 

Mishti’s eyes widen at the action, her teeth gritting and hand going to push away the man’s hand. 

“G-Get away!” 

Only the man has a tight grip on her shoulder that isn’t hindered by the swat of her hand. 

He then brings his face even closer to her, his face turning towards her ear. “Don’t you recognise me, Chutki?” the man whisper asks and Mishti pulls back looking at him with her eyes wide as saucers, disbelieving. 

She must be dreaming again.

To assess the statement, she pinches herself and the pain makes her jump, but it also makes a small ray of hope spring in her heart.

She tries to look at the man carefully, trying to look at his dark brown eye under the grey lenses, and the skin beneath the beard. She reaches out to peel it out and the man shrieks, rubbing the spot.

“Ah, Chutki, it is real. That hurt!” Mihir whines and Mishti jumps up to her feet, her period cramps forgotten, the painful tears getting replaced with those of shock. Of disbelief. Of sheer joy.

“Oh My God, Bhai! It’s you. It’s really you….” She says and goes to hug her brother when he stops her from doing so. 

“Shh, not here, Chutki, come with me.” He whispers, choosing to not hold her hand when she tries to. She holds at the back of his shirt and Mihir squirms while walking trying to get her hands off him to avoid suspicion.