Silent Hearts

36 | Thirty-Six

I never craved attention,
all until I tasted yours.

*

Nandini stood by the kitchen counter, her fingers appeared too heavy as they moved through the familiar yet now burdensome task of arranging plates with an assortment of sweets and snacks. Her heart was troubled with the unspoken tension that hung in the air. The soft clinking of the porcelain plates echoed the turmoil within her.

From her peripheral vision, she caught glimpses of her mother's serene face, a few steps away, as she moved swiftly, pouring chilled drinks into five gleaming glasses.

From the living room, their father's deep, boisterous laughter resonated, infusing the house with an energy that contrasted sharply with the quietude of her mind. His voice, rich and full of life, mingled with the familiar, distant tones of Akshay Kumar’s dialogue from an old Bollywood comedy. The vibrant soundscape suggested that her father had indeed stumbled upon a particularly amusing movie, the kind that could lighten any mood.
She couldn't make out the specifics of their conversation, but the rise and fall of their voices painted a picture of a lively moment.

Perhaps, she had been there too long in the kitchen on her own, or perhaps her thoughts were weighing her down, as she was so absorbed in the notions her mind played that she almost didn't hear her mother's soft footsteps approaching moments earlier. The gentle rustle of her mother's sari was the first sign of her presence, followed by the faint scent of jasmine and talc that always clung to her. She had smiled at her then, before helping her with such a mere task of serving everyone. 

"Nandu?" Her mother's voice, small yet edged with confusion and worry, reached her like a benign tug at her thoughts.

Her mother stood close, her hands deftly lifting the plates from the counter, ready to carry them to the other room. The concern in her eyes was unmistakable, the slight furrow of her brow speaking volumes. Nandini unhurriedly looked away from the now-open window, the cool evening breeze a fleeting distraction from the depth of the moment.

Turning to her right, Nandini faced her mother's stare. The worry etched in her mother's squinting eyes was a mirror of the uncertainty Nandini felt within herself.

"Are you unwell, sweetie?" her mother inquired, her almond eyes—the same shade as Nandini's–tracing over her daughter's form with motherly concern. Her lashes flickered gently as she scanned for any signs of distress, her gaze as perceptive as ever.

Nandini's lips slowly curved at the edges, attempting a reassuring smile. But the effort fell short, her smile faltering into a slight grimace that didn't escape her mother's keen observation.

"I'm alright, maa," Nandini murmured, her voice blended into a touch of weariness and affection. Yet, the worry in her mother's eyes remained, unwavering in its depth.

Her mother set the plates down momentarily, her hand moving to gently cup Nandini's cheek. The gesture was tender, imbued with a quiet strength that Nandini had always drawn comfort from.

"You didn't know it was his birthday, na?" Her mother's gaze was steady, her thin lips touched with the slightest hint of brown, quirked at the corners with a knowing expression.

Nandini stilled, a wave of unease washing over her. Was she that noticeable? Could her face no longer hide her inner turmoil? The questions swirled in her mind like a storm. Had everyone come to know of her oversight? Did they see her as inconsiderate, failing in her role as a wife? The weight of these thoughts pressed down on her, suffocating.