Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter 16: 18 years ago

This chapter needs heavy editing due to the translating. But I'm still uploading since i had a few demands so enjoy :)

The front yard was crammed with boxes, furniture, and shiny appliances, all precariously stacked, while more items spilled out of an open truck. The midday sun blazed down, intensifying the tension. Banhi, Dhriti, Anala, and Meeta stood to one side, visibly distressed, their faces pale with worry.

Amid the chaos, voices clashed in a heated argument. Nishant stood at the centre, his posture rigid, his voice cutting through the air like steel.

"I won't let this dowry stuff come into my daughters' home! It's disgusting and wrong!" he declared, his words slicing through the murmuring of the sparrows in the neem tree.

Meeta's mother, Meena, stepped forward hesitantly, wringing her hands. "Nishant, please calm down. There isn't enough space in the house—that's why we talked about keeping it at your place. Why are you reacting like this?"

Nishant's eyes flashed with a storm of emotions—anger, pain, and something deeper, something older. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if fighting to hold back a memory threatening to surface. He turned sharply toward Meeta's father, his voice rising.

"No space? Then why was it necessary to bring all this nonsense? Aren't you ashamed of doing all this for your daughter? This is dowry, Meena! You're selling your daughter!" he thundered.

Meeta stepped forward cautiously, her voice trembling. "Uncle, please try to understand. Dowry is part of our culture. It's all normal."

A bitter laugh escaped Nishant, sharp and cutting. He took a step closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. "Normal? You're ruining your life in the name of normalcy, Meeta! Do you even know what all this can do to a woman's life?"

His words hung in the air like a storm cloud, charged with unspoken weight. Banhi noticed how his hands trembled slightly now, and how his jaw tightened as if to choke back words he dared not utter. She glanced at Dhriti, who gave her a worried look. They had seen this side of their father before—a man haunted by shadows they didn't fully understand.

Meeta's father attempted to intervene, his tone placating. "Brother Nishant, it's just a ritual. Everyone does it. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Nishant whirled around, his voice like thunder. "A ritual? When a girls is being sold, how can that be called a ritual? You all ruin every girl's life in the name of compromise. I've seen for myself where all this leads. And my daughters will not take even a step into this disgusting act!"

The girls stood frozen, Banhi clutching Dhriti's arm, her heart pounding. His words carried a force beyond the immediate argument, a conviction born of something deeply personal, a wound left unhealed.

Danish appeared on the stairway, arms crossed, observing the scene with detached indifference. He leaned casually against the wall, smirking. "Man, why are you making such a fuss, uncle?" he remarked.

Nishant shot him a glare that could have set fire to stone. Unfazed, Danish shrugged and turned to Meeta. "Meeta, I'm going to see your brother. Come on, Pranav. Ranveer is there too."

His nonchalance cut through the tension like a dull blade, irritating and oddly out of place. But Nishant had no time for him.

Turning back to the others, his fury reignited. "And listen to me carefully. If anyone tries to drag my daughters into this matter, I will cut all ties right here!"

With that, he grabbed Banhi and Dhriti by their wrists and pulled them inside. As the door slammed shut behind them, the sound reverberated through the house, punctuating the finality of his words.