ARJUN- The Monster [BOOK 1]

5. Nitya

Uncertainty clouded my sense of purpose within that house. The past week had slipped by in a haze of routine: waking up, eating, indulging in movies, and surrendering to sleep once more. Nothing remarkable unfolded, leaving me to grapple with a profound sense of aimlessness. I had never felt so utterly bored in all my life.

Back home, the lively chaos orchestrated by my siblings filled every corner. They'd invade my room, leaping on my bed, dashing about, leaving a trail of havoc in their wake, swiftly tidied up by our dedicated maids. Despite the extra workload, their laughter resonated, anchoring our home in sanity.

My father used to say that laughter was the glue that held our family together, a balm for the wounds inflicted by life's relentless cruelty. Whether it was just wishful thinking or a genuine belief, his words held truth: amidst the chaos, there existed moments of respite and connection that bound us together as a family.

Thoughts of my father, gone for a week now, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me. The ache of his absence lingered like a phantom limb, a constant reminder of what we had lost. Yet life marched on, indifferent to our grief, leaving me to navigate the turbulent waters of marriage while Uncle Raj assumed control of our fractured family.

During my last conversation with my sister Nila, she mentioned a bruise marring Ma's cheek. The absence of a video call from Ma yesterday only confirmed it.

If my father were still here, I knew he would have stood as a bulwark against the tide of cruelty, protecting my mother with every fiber of his being. But his absence left us vulnerable, exposed to the whims of fate and the machinations of those who sought to exploit our weakness.

My mother, a woman of remarkable beauty, had attracted many suitors in her youth, yet her heart belonged solely to my father. Rumors even suggested that Uncle Raj had once pursued her.

Was he now exploiting her vulnerability?

I needed to act swiftly and return home without delay.

But even as I resolved to take action, doubt crept in like a thief in the night, fueled by the conspicuous absence of my husband. His indifference cut me to the core, leaving me to question my worth and my place in this unfamiliar world.

Our last encounter had been in his study on the evening I missed dinner. I pondered his whereabouts. Was he even at home?

When I questioned Remya, she evaded my inquiry with practiced ease, stating, "Saheb's schedule is known only to himself."

But she offered no confirmation of his presence. It felt as though he was deliberately avoiding me.

Was I truly so repellant?

I harbored no insecurities; my beauty was renowned throughout Bangalore, an inheritance from my mother. Despite numerous admirers, my father had vigilantly shielded me from the perils of romance. The thought of entangling an unsuspecting man in our world's complexities filled me with apprehension. Thus, I abstained from seeking companionship.

Yet, dreams of a harmonious marriage persisted. I longed for the enduring love my parents shared.

With a husband disinterested in my existence, I feared my marriage was doomed. Nonetheless, I resolved to salvage it. I would strive to win his affection, for the welfare of my family depended upon it.

Here I stood, a lone figure framed by the morning light, facing the imposing facade of his study. Since daybreak, I'd been stationed here, determined to breach the walls of silence that surrounded my husband. Questions buzzed in my mind like neon signs: Did he harbor family secrets? How many years had etched lines on his face? What lay behind those closed doors, shielded from my eager gaze?

As the hours crawled by, frustration bubbled up, a cocktail of impatience and longing. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the corridor, but still, he remained hidden away, oblivious to my silent plea.

With each passing minute, my resolve hardened. I couldn't leave until I'd had my say. But as lunch came and went, my patience wore thin. I rapped on the door, the sound echoing down the empty hall.

"Open up! I need to talk to you," I demanded, my voice tinged with urgency.

Silence mocked me from the other side.

"Please, it's important. I really need to speak with you," I implored, desperation creeping into my tone.

Finally, a response crackled through the door, cold and detached. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you, Arjun," I replied, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

"Then talk," he snapped, his words cutting through the air like ice.

"I want to see you while we talk," I insisted, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"Not happening," came his swift reply, shutting down my request before I could even finish.

"But I'm your wife! Don't I deserve to see you?" I pleaded, my voice rising in frustration.

But his response was as cold as ever. "Nope, not happening."

Defeated, I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, if that's how it's gonna be, then so be it. But I need to visit my family. I want to go home."

Before he could object, I pressed on. "And don't worry about my safety. You can send your guards with me. I'll be back before you know it."

But his answer was swift and final. "No."

"Why not?" I demanded, unable to comprehend his stubbornness.

"Because this is my house, and my rules," he replied, his voice firm and unyielding, leaving me to grapple with the harsh reality of my situation.

"I'll then just go without your knowledge," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the weight of my decision.

"Do not test me, Nitya," he barked, his anger palpable as his voice thundered in the room.

"I want to see my family. You can't stop me from that," I pleaded, my emotions rising like a tempest within me. Tears threatened to escape, betraying my facade of strength.

"I can't. But what I can do is cancel the agreement. Then you can finally go to your family once and for all," his words cut through me like a knife, leaving me gasping for breath.

I gasped in shock as tears cascaded down my cheeks. No, that couldn't happen. The mere thought of the agreement being terminated sent shivers down my spine. Everything would unravel, and I would be left with nothing but shattered dreams and a tarnished reputation.

"No, you. . .you can't do that. You will lose your power over Bangalore," I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice as I attempted to reason with him. But my efforts fell on deaf ears, drowned out by his callous laughter.

"Foolish woman," he sneered, his laughter echoing in the hollow space and door between us. "I'm strong enough to have Bangalore without your family's help. If I wanted it, then I would have gotten it a long time ago."

"Please. . ." I begged, my voice cracking as I struggled to regain control.

"Go back, Nitya. I don't want you throwing tantrums like a child. You say you are my wife, then behave like one. Now go!" he commanded, his dismissal final as he shut me out, leaving me alone with my shattered heart and the echoes of his cruelty.

And that was the second time in the week that Arjun Mishra made me cry, each tear a testament to the suffocating weight of my obligations and the crushing reality of my existence.