Dons of Punjab: Fluke of Reality✔️

Chapter 32

Prabhneet Kaur Aulakh

Scanning the room with a quick glance, my eyes land on Aman as he hurriedly buttons up his shirt, getting ready for another day at work. I watch him for a moment, feeling a familiar wave of resentment creep in. His presence alone is enough to irritate me. He moves around the room with ease, as if everything is normal. As if nothing is wrong between us.

He catches me watching him and flashes a bright smile. "Good morning, Prabh," he says, his voice warm and full of cheer.

I don't return the smile. Instead, I let out a low grumble and turn away, stretching my arms as I try to shake off the morning fatigue. "Morning," I mumble, making it clear that I am in no mood for conversation.

Aman doesn't let my cold response faze him. He simply chuckles as he fixes his tie in the mirror. "You should try waking up earlier. Maybe you'd feel better."

I roll my eyes. "Or maybe I'd still feel the same," I mutter under my breath before heading straight to the bathroom.

Once inside, I shut the door a little harder than necessary and exhale sharply. I splash cold water on my face, trying to rid myself of the frustration bubbling inside me. This marriage—this forced, unwanted marriage—was suffocating. Every morning, I woke up to the same reality, trapped in a life I never wanted with a man I wanted even less.

After getting ready, I make my way to the nursery. The moment I step inside, a sense of peace washes over me. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. My heart softens when I see baby Mehtab sleeping soundly in his crib, his tiny hands curled into fists.

But then my eyes widen when I notice Gurman sprawled on top of Mehtab like a tiny, protective guardian. My irritation vanishes for a moment as I chuckle. The sight of the two boys, one barely bigger than the other, tangled together in sleep is endearing.

"You two are troublemakers," I whisper, carefully lifting Gurman and tucking him beside Mehtab properly.

Leaving the nursery, I walk toward the living room, where the delicious aroma of sizzling pronthe and fresh chai fills the air. The house is alive with laughter and conversation as my sisters and their husbands move about the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The moment my nephews—Veeru, Harbi, Zora, and Sehej—spot me, their eyes light up with excitement.

"Massi! Massi!" they squeal as they rush toward me, their small feet thudding against the wooden floor.

I barely have time to brace myself before they collide into me, wrapping their little arms around my waist. I laugh despite myself, crouching down to return their hugs.

"Missed me already?" I tease, ruffling Veeru's hair.

"We want to play!" Harbi exclaims.

"Alright, alright. But just for a little while."

The next few minutes are filled with the sound of their giggles as we play a quick round of ring-around-the-rosy. Their energy is infectious, momentarily making me forget about my troubles. But soon, the tempting smell of breakfast calls everyone to the table.

I head toward my usual seat, but at the last moment, I change my mind. Instead of sitting next to Aman, I place Veeru and Harbi between us. A petty move, but a satisfying one. I catch Aman's brief look of surprise before he sighs and shakes his head slightly.

"Really, Prabh?" he murmurs as he settles into his seat.

I don't respond. Instead, I focus on serving the kids, acting as if he isn't even there.

Breakfast is lively as everyone talks and laughs, but I stay mostly silent, only speaking when necessary. Aman, however, is his usual self—talking, smiling, acting as if we're just another happily married couple. It makes my stomach turn.