His Brown Bride

9

Anita's POV






I've updated my diary.

It's clear to me that he wants to keep me hidden from his world.

Of course, it's painful, but I understand since we'll divorce soon.

What hurts the most is knowing that he's ashamed of me because of my dark skin, constantly reminding me that I'm not good enough for him.

Today was yet another difficult day. I went without food as he was away the entire day and didn't bother to have breakfast earlier before leaving.

It was very late in the night when the door opened.

My eyes darted towards him as he entered the room.

He cast a brief glance in my direction before speaking in a detached tone, "The hall is dirty. You can sleep here tonight."

I silently closed my diary and returned it to the drawer, then turned to leave the room.

I haven't yet forgotten what happened in the morning when he lashed out at me with cruel words, and even after realising I hadn't made a mistake since the girl went out herself, he didn't bother to apologise or show any remorse.

His lack of empathy and understanding made me suspicious of his intentions, so I choose to distance myself from his pretentious sympathy now.

••••

It was morning.

I had already finished preparing breakfast when Mother entered the kitchen. She had overslept today.

"Daughter-in-law, I need to talk to you about something," she said, her eyes meeting mine with seriousness.

I nodded.

"What's going on between you and your husband?" She asked, her voice gentle but probing. "Are you two not getting along?"

My eyes lowered to the floor, suppressing the turmoil that churned within. The truth was too painful, too raw, to be exposed, because how could I confess that he doesn't acknowledge the marriage?

"It's too early for you both to start having disagreements. I want you to apologise and mend the rift, no matter what it takes. Do I make myself clear?"

I found it weird to hear her say that. I mean, I had assumed she too didn't like me, just like her son, my husband.

"Okay," I nodded, because I wanted to end the conversation before it delved further. Sadly, reconciling with him wouldn't be as simple as apologising and making up, but I accepted to to avoid prolonging the discussion.

••••

I placed his breakfast before him, and then I moved back.

"Good morning," Divya chimed in a cheerful tone. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table, her eyes scanning the spread.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, opening the containers and revealing the dishes I had prepared.

Mother started to speak. "My dear, we have a rule in our family that the girls..."

But before she could finish, my husband cut in, "Many dishes. Serve the one you want." His words were accompanied by warmth that he had never extended to me.

He was willing to make exceptions for her.

I couldn't bear to see the admiration in his eyes while he stared at her. I was hurt, so I excused myself from the room, unable to continue watching them.

••••

He left his leftovers, which I ate.

Mother asked me to serve tea to her guests in the living room.

After I entered, I saw an elderly lady, roughly her age, seated alongside a young boy who appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen years old.

"She's the one," Mother said, her eyes following me. The lady's gaze observed me, and her hand started to stroke the boy's hair.

"I hope her first child will be a girl, so we can betroth her to my Mukesh," she said.

I put the tray down, my eyes glancing at the lady. I had suffered under the weight of this tradition, so I had vowed that it would end with me. My children would never be bound by such customs.

"Mukesh, go and touch your mother-in-law's feet," the lady instructed, nudging him forward.

He obediently rose and approached me, his eyes cast down.

"Bless me, Mother," he said, his small hands reaching out to touch my feet.

My mind was already made up. I know that I would never force my daughter into a marriage she doesn't want, no matter what traditions or expectations they will put on her.

I smiled and replied, "May you be blessed," only as a mere formality.

"Now, don't delay bringing the child into the world. Let the boy finally meet his soulmate," she said.

Mother's chuckle harmonised with hers, and that left me feeling uncomfortable.

I excused myself, feeling suffocated by their expectations, and returned to my husband's room.

••••


Mother entered the room.

"I've just returned from the market," she asserted, extending her hand and offering me a small package.

My gaze fell upon the whitening creams, which were in their containers.

"Use it on your face," she instructed. "The shopkeeper assured me you'd see a difference immediately."

A bitter laugh rose to my lips, but I swallowed it back, refusing to let my anger get the better of me.

However, how could she assume I wanted to change my skin tone? I'd always embraced my natural beauty, unlike so many others who let society's expectations dictate their self-worth.

"Keep them and start using them," she whispered. "I want you to become like us as soon as possible."

The instant she left, I hurled the creams to the floor, the plastic containers shattering against the tile.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was past six in the evening.

He should be back home by now.

I have to serve him dinner.

I headed downstairs, and I heard his laughter coming from outside.

Curious, I walked out to see what was going on and found him chatting with Divya.

I decided not to bother serving him, since Divya seemed to have things under control now.

I turned back and went inside.