bounded by shadows

chapter : 3

The look on her face speaks volumes of worry. "You had a panic attack; it was quite severe," the doctor explains to Malik. Beegum, holding my hand, gazes at me with eyes full of pity. If it were anyone else, they'd leave with a black eye, but Beegum is different. She has always been my guardian angel through the darkest nights.

"I couldn't find Amma and Baba," I whisper, tears trickling down my cheeks. "I thought they left me."

Wiping my tears with her thumb, she reassures me, "You think they would leave you? They are still together because of you."

"But I called them so many times," I say, my voice trembling.

"Your mother was next door, and your father was at your nanny's place," she explains, helping me sit up. "Do you know why? It's your cousin's marriage. You all will be going. Want some water?" She pours a glass and hands it to me. "They asked about you. I told them you're staying with me. I know you don't want them to know."

"Thank you," I murmur. I see Malik approaching from the corner of my eye, but I can't bring myself to look at him. Beegum senses my discomfort and pulls me closer pressing me against her . They start talking, but the words blur. Minutes later, Malik walks away. Watching him brings back memories of when he said he was going to Dubai to establish the family business. He wanted a break. I thought he would come back as mine. He looks the same, his hair now grown to his chin. Before exiting, he looks back, his hazel eyes searching for something in mine. Is he angry? His beard, just as before, always suited him.

Beegum breaks our silence. "I'm staying here tonight. The doctor said you can go home tomorrow."

"Okay, so are you going?" she asked

squinting at her I asked "Where?"

"Where else? to France. It's a golden chance, and you always wanted to go. You said it's where art lives, so why not?"

"Be practical. Where do I get five lakhs from?"

"It's okay to ask for help," she suggests.

"I am not in a position where not going to France means the end. I am okay here."

"No, you are not." Her voice is firm. "Listen, Janaki, you need to go. This place causes you pain. Leave I don't want you to suffer anymore. One more panic attack, and it will hospitalize you. Please."

I wanted to argue, but the nurse interrupted us. "Miss, she needs rest. You can wait in the visitor's area." Beegum nods to the nurse and leaves. I know she only wants the best for me, but I can't leave. This is my home, my parents, and Beegum. I can't abandon them. My body aches, except for my wrist, which is bandaged. I don't remember hurting it. The nurse notices me staring at it.

"They're bruised and scratched, so the doctor bandaged it," she explains.

"Hmmm," I respond. Fixing my IV, she leaves. Staring at the ceiling, I can't sleep. I should have told the nurse about my insomnia.

When I was little, extra sleep at noon meant sleepless nights. I thought it was normal until it became worse. I would cry in my parents' room, unable to sleep. They thought it was the same thing until they saw me weaken. At the hospital, I was diagnosed with separation anxiety. I couldn't sleep without background noise, and after my sister left, it turned into insomnia from past traumas. Past, yes, it's the past. Why can't I understand that? She left because she couldn't live like this, but I hate her now more than anything. Now, I can't sleep without pills, which I despise. The only other way is to tire myself out until I pass out. It works spending hours in my art studio working on new drawings. Staring at the hospital fan makes me dizzy...

Is Malik angry with me? He was the one who told me he wanted a break, and I gave him that space. It's not that I don't care—I'm afraid that if I call, he'll outright tell me it's over, and I can't handle that. I always asked Beegum about him, but her answers were always evasive: "He's fine," "He's busy." Each time I reached for the phone, Beegum's hand would stop me. Even when they went to see him in Dubai, their parents invited me too, but Beegum told me not to go. I longed to ask why, and she'd say, "If he wants to see you, he will. You need not chase his love—you're not that desperate." Yet, deep within, I knew the truth. It was during those dark days, plagued by panic attacks, when the doctor advised me to rest. I don't know why beegum always stopped us from meeting.

Time slipped away unnoticed. The sun blazed behind a veil of clouds, mist wrapping the sky in a soft embrace. Turning my gaze out the rusty grilled window, I see birds on their migratory journey. Is it that time already? The summer migration has come again. Years drift by like whispers in the wind. How many seasons have passed since I turned eighteen? Birthdays once felt magical I used to eagerly await their arrival. Birthdays with cousins were always special—cutting the cake, my nanny making sweets for everyone, and the aroma of biryani filling the air. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. The nurse informs me that I'll be discharged soon, and Beegum is by my side. She tells me that Malik will be dropping me home, but her tone hints at anger. As we walk to the counter, she insists on paying. After settling the bill, we head to the parking lot. There, Malik stands beside his car, accompanied by a girl I've never seen before. She's beautiful, dressed in a pale blue embroidered kurta that harmonizes with Malik's dark blue pants and white shirt. I slip into the back seat of the car, and Beegum joins me. Malik starts the engine, joining him the girl fastens her seatbelt. She turns around, and I quickly take in her features—doe-like eyes, bubbly cheeks, and full lips. Her smile radiates a happiness I seem to lack. With a warm smile, she introduces herself, "Hi, I'm Seenath. We've never met."

"Hi," I replied, casting a glance at Beegum. She never mentioned her. Are they distant relatives?

She must have noticed my puzzled expression, she clarified with a gentle smile, "I didn't introduced me properly. I am Malik's fiancée."