|The secrets we take to grave|✔︎

5|It's red all around|

Trigger Warning

Song for the chapter- Hold on by Chord Overstreet.

Sia

Sharma's residence is just fifteen minutes walk from the flat we have booked for our post-nupital residence. No wonder it is convenient for Gaurav and me to visit his parents every day. But this also means that Gaurav and I were no longer staying under the same roof as Anubhav's.

Anubhav carries the surname and the heir tag of his Grandfather. Which was why he shifted off to Port Blair after his mother's death. At least that is what he says to convince Gaurav, his step-mom, me and the world. However, initially after struggling for a few years in the hotel industry his first shot at being a novelist proved to be a success. He shifted to Mumbai and made it his habitat for a few years before Gaurav made it there. It was only recently that Gaurav and I made the wedding official ,following which he made his shift to Rangat clear. He tells his family that his official contract of three novels has expired with the greenleaves publishers and he would now embark into a self publishing journey given he had locked his market by these years.

I chuckle inwardly. Typical Anubhav. Coming up with the most reasonable excuses for his impulsive whims and setting up his guards thinking that it would be undecipherable for me.

If only he knew how he has transcripted all of himself to me even without trying.

My limbs ache in mild congestion as I stand in front of their residence after my ten minute long amble uphill.

The house ahead of me looked like a cozy Victorian bungalow , roofed and symmetrical with a driveway large enough to fit in my whole Mumbai apartment. The white fences that adjoined the trimmed orchard and garden matched itself with the white house. A small shed for the watchperson stood outside. In vain however, for hours they could be seen either missing, or dozed off or even if in duty,engrossed with an earpiece. I envy them for harboring this kind of least bothered attitude in work and still getting paid in hefty sums.

I wave at them. Luckily one of them looks up at the exact moment. He waves back at me.

He mumbles something from me. Something of a phrase with the word Anubhav in it. I don't find it necessary to go to them and they must be too lazy to come to me.They must be telling me that Anubhav is home, which is very obvious. They don't bother to open the gate which means it is ajar. They resume whatever chore they were engrossed in.

I cross the garden and on reaching the threshold I  tap my knuckles on their large entrance door. I envision the perfect lush interior of this palace that will be called my in-laws' place in less than a month;The mahogany and cherry wood furnishings amidst the minimalist touches, the beige and white paint. The master bedroom at the first floor and the brothers having their rooms opposite to each other crossing the foyer. This makes me restless all the more knowing how Mrs. Sharma or even their house staff Nina, who are the usual ones to open the door, do not take much time to respond.

I knock again.

Maybe both Mrs.Sharma and Nina are outside. Fetching the groceries or so.

I imagine Mr. Sharma must be in the house, engrossed in his study and of course his elder son . Hoping and praying that he doesn't force a conversation between these two known strangers.

"Rituparna Aunty?Nina?"

"Mr.Sharma?"

Silence greets me back.

My instincts guide me to yield a slight push. I shudder in bewilderment as I find the door opening wide. (That is so unusual of Nina)

The clicking of my heels reverberates through the foyer, dark and definitely empty. It is not usual. It is not usual for the house staff and members to leave along with a door wide open and even a gate ajar. I peep out of the door as my bones are gnawing with fear, raw and new. I decided to deadbolt the door.