His Brown Bride

21

Anita's POV








Akash had bought groceries earlier before leaving for work.

I waited until the evening for him to return before starting to cook.

I had prepared Dal, Khichdi, and Shrikhand for dinner.

I carried the steaming dishes to the dining table.

He came down, looking relaxed after changing into a white shirt and comfortable blue pants.

After he settled into his chair, he greeted me with a warm smile. "Good evening," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I returned his smile. "How was your day at work?" I asked.

"Exhausting," he replied, inhaling the aromas of the food with his eyes closed.

"Long day, but glad it's behind me." He opened his eyes, smiled, and said,

"Smells amazing, by the way."

My smile broadened at his compliment.

"Sit down; let's eat already," he added, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I took a seat, and we started eating in comfortable silence, however, he broke it, his eyes flicking up from his plate to me. "How was your day?" he asked, his tone casual.

I shrugged, not feeling particularly enthusiastic about sharing since no one wishes to hear about it. "Normal." I said simply.

He raised an eyebrow, "Just normal? What does that even mean? I don't know what a normal day looks like for you. Come on, tell me in detail."

I paused mid-chew, my eyes meeting with his, searching for sincerity. "Are you really interested?" I whispered.

"Would I ask if I wasn't?"

My smile began as a tentative tremble, then blossomed into a radiant grin. "Really?" I asked again, my voice cracking while tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

It was a foreign feeling having someone genuinely caring about my day.

"Yes, Anita, I want to know how your day was," he replied, his words gentle and encouraging, as if to reassure me he was truly listening.

I smiled. "Well," I started, my voice filled with enthusiasm. "After you left, I tidied up our rooms, and then I sat down for a bit, but I got tired. So, I cleaned the bathrooms, did my laundry, and in the afternoon, I took a nap. When I woke up, I wandered around, thought about my mom, and then started preparing for dinner when you came back." I shared every detail.

He smiled. "What did you eat for lunch and breakfast, then?"

"Nothing. I can't eat until the men of the house are done eating, or at least until they're eating."

His face fell, his eyes hazing with guilt as he spoke. "Firstly, I apologise for forgetting to arrange for the cleaners to come and tidy the house. My workload made it slip my mind." He paused, looking at me tentatively.

"Secondly, please know that a dry cleaning service collects clothes every two days, so you won't have to worry about that again. I'm deeply sorry for putting you through unnecessary stress today, and I promise it won't happen again. And lastly, I want to assure you that in this house, you have the freedom to eat whenever you please, regardless of whether I'm here or not."

"Please don't apologize. My dad would never approve of a man apologising, especially to a woman. You didn't do anything wrong. It's my duty to clean and cook in the house." I spoke, still puzzled by his apology, unsure of what he felt remorseful for.

His hand reached out, his fingers intertwining with mine on the table.

His eyes then glanced into mine, "Anita, it's wrong," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

"You're a human being. You can't wait for others to finish eating before being able to eat. And household chores aren't your responsibility; you should only do them for yourself, not others." He paused, his gaze softening.

"I'm grateful you took care of me, but the groceries I bought were for you, for when I'm not here."

"I told you, the ways of the people in Mumbai are weird and strange. What are you even talking about?" I said, genuinely perplexed.

His expression turned solemn, and he replied, "Tell me, what are the ways of the people in your city? Please enlighten me."

"Okay... In my city, it's expected that women take on all household responsibilities. We're only allowed to eat after our fathers have been served. But in my in-law's house, the rules were even stricter. I couldn't eat until my husband finished his meal and left his leftovers for me. And if he didn't eat, I wasn't allowed to eat either."

"What?" he exclaimed, his voice rising in shock and his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You mean, you were forced to wait until your husband finished eating before you could eat? And if he didn't eat, you wouldn't eat at all?"

I nodded, confused by his reaction. "Yes, that's how it was. What's wrong with that? My mother and grandmother followed the same culture."

He looked at me like I was missing something obvious. "That's...that's not right. It is abuse. You should be able to eat when you're hungry, not wait for someone else's permission."

I shrugged, finding his reaction strange. "It's just the way it is. I don't see what the big deal is."

His expression turned from shock to bewilderment, as if he were trying to understand a foreign language. "But... why would you accept that? Why wouldn't you want to eat when you're hungry?"

I laughed, finding his questions odd. "It's just our culture, Akash. You wouldn't understand."

"Please, go on," he pressed, his eyes staring at mine with a deepening concern. "Tell me about yourself, everything."

I smiled, "About myself, I'm an unlucky woman who was forced to grow up too soon. Life was cruel—very cruel. Every day was a struggle, and I don't wish to relive the memories, but they shaped me. They made me who I am."

"What do you mean? What happened to you?" He asked, his voice encouraging me to open up.

I was hesitant, unsure how much to reveal, but his empathetic gaze put me at ease, and I decided to tell him the most important thing.

"One thing you should know about me is that I neither forgive nor forget. Those who hurt me may never experience my anger, but they'll never escape my memory."

His eyes never left mine. "Tell me more," he whispered. "Tell me everything you endured, Anita."

"Shall we finish dinner? It's getting cold," I said with a chuckle, deliberately changing the subject and gesturing towards the remaining food on our plates.

He nodded, "Sure!" and started eating with a sudden urgency, as if he had to be elsewhere immediately.

He finished in no time.

He wiped his lips and smiled at me. "You didn't disappoint again. The food was absolutely delicious."

I smiled back, pleased by his compliment.

"Can we continue our conversation?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Tomorrow. I'm very tired today," I replied quickly, trying to dodge the topic.

The truth is, I am avoiding the dark chapters of my past—the ones I don't want to revisit.

I got up and gathered the plates, and he followed me into the kitchen.

As I stood at the sink, he stepped beside me and pointed out the dishwasher. "There's a dishwasher; let me help." He picked up the plates and loaded them into the machine.

"I have a question," he said.