𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔

𝟰𝟮. 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲

Chapter Forty-Two: Count of Every Bottle

Breathing with relief, she put her phone down, tears still streaming down her face. She had just finished talking with Mumma Kohli, and it felt like she was five years old again, running away on a rocky road and scraping her knees. Instead of comforting her, her mother scolded her for running on the rocky road. But isn't that what makes you an Indian child? She wouldn't lie—it felt so good. The stoic demeanour she had maintained melted away when she saw her mother on the other end of the screen. When Mumma Kohli saw her face, her hands flew to her mouth, and instead of crying, she scolded her first, saying, "You're going to get some beating when you come home." That was all it took, and both of them broke down. How could they not? Three years without seeing or hearing each other would surely do that, especially when the fault was someone else's and the suffering was theirs.

The conversation had been brief but laden with emotion. They had both suffered, but now, hearing her mother's familiar scolding, it was like a balm to her wounded soul.

She remembered the countless nights she had cried herself to sleep, longing for the comforting presence of her family. The isolation had been unbearable at times, but pride and circumstances had kept her from reaching out. Now, all those barriers seemed trivial. The only thing that mattered was that they were talking again.

She glanced around her room, the walls echoing with the silence that had been her companion for so long. It was time to go home. The thought of returning to her mother's embrace, even if it came with a few scoldings, filled her with warmth and anticipation. She knew the journey back wouldn't be easy; there would be explanations and bridges to rebuild. But she was ready.

Standing up after the call, she moved toward the treasure locker in her room. Every time she made a new batch of wine, she would keep the first bottle for herself, letting it sit for a month in case she needed to drown her sorrows. If she didn't need it after a month, she would sell it to the locals. Despite the temptation, she had never touched those bottles; her anger and sense of betrayal had always been enough to maintain her stoic demeanour. But now, after the call with her mother, that stoicism had faded away.

She opened the locker and brought out her favourite lychee-flavored wine. Uncorking it, she took a deep breath before gulping down half the bottle in one go. She needed to revive the anger and betrayal to keep herself composed, but little did she know, it would only bring her old self back.

As the warmth of the wine spread through her body, memories began to flood back—memories of a time when she was full of life and hope, before the misunderstandings and separation. She could feel the layers of bitterness and resentment peeling away, revealing the person she used to be. The laughter, the dreams, the love for her family—all those feelings she had buried deep inside started to resurface.

The wine had done its job, but not in the way she had intended. Instead of reinforcing her walls, it was breaking them down, making her realize how much she had missed and how ready she was to embrace her past. She sat down, the bottle still in hand, and allowed herself to feel everything—the pain, the regret, but also the love and the hope for a better future.

She knew now that returning home wasn't just about facing her family; it was about reclaiming herself, the person she had lost in the years of anger and isolation. The call with her mother had been the first step, and now, with the taste of lychee wine on her lips, she felt ready to take the next steps toward healing and reconciliation.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the confusing emotions. No, only her niece, sister-in-law, and mother deserved to see Nehmat's old self again—not her brother and ex-lover. They were the reason for all her pain. How could she let them back into her heart after everything they had done? Her drunk mind, still capable of some rational thought, decided she needed fresh air to clear her head.