YOU AND ME

Ayush

Back home in Delhi, I tried to throw myself into work, hoping that the constant stream of meetings, reports, and business demands would help me forget about Amina. But it didn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Her laughter echoed in my mind, her smile haunted me. The memory of her, of us together in Udaipur, clung to me, refusing to let go.

I’d thought I could return to my normal life, but Amina had become part of my thoughts, an unshakable presence.

It didn’t take long for my mother, Aisha, to notice. Nothing slipped past her. She was the matriarch, the one who had control over everyone in the family, and she always seemed to know when something was off.

One evening, after another tense family dinner, she called me into her study. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, the kind that demanded answers.

“Ayush,” she began, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, her eyes pinning me down. “You’ve been distant since you returned from London. Is there something you need to tell me?”

I stiffened, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m just tired, Ma. Work has been overwhelming.”

She didn’t buy it for a second. My mother had a way of seeing through people, especially me. Her gaze was as sharp as ever, and I felt like a boy again under her scrutiny.

“Is that all?” she asked, her voice deceptively gentle, as though daring me to lie.

I nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind, calculating, assessing. She would dig deeper if she needed to.

“You know I don’t tolerate distractions,” she said, her tone hardening. “We have the gala coming up, and you need to be fully focused. No mistakes, Ayush. I expect you to uphold the family’s reputation.”

“Of course, Ma,” I muttered, hoping the conversation would end soon. I wasn’t ready for her to know about Amina. My mother would never accept her. Amina didn’t fit the mold Aisha had created for the perfect daughter-in-law—a woman who could complement the family’s status, someone from a powerful family, someone she could control. Amina was none of those things.

And my mother’s control was absolute. She ran the family like a well-oiled machine, with everyone following her lead without question.

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At breakfast the next day, it was the usual routine. The entire family sat around the grand dining table. Priya, my younger sister, sat across from me, her head down as she ate quietly, barely speaking a word. She never challenged our mother either, always careful to stay in her good graces.

Raj, my older brother, sat beside her, nursing what I assumed was the aftereffects of last night’s drinking. He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. But even in his disheveled state, he didn’t dare speak out of turn. He knew better than to cross Aisha.

At the head of the table, my mother sat in command. My father, ever the silent participant, sat beside her, never uttering a word unless Aisha prompted him to. He was a respected businessman, but at home, it was Aisha who called the shots. Whatever she said, my father followed without question.

As usual, she handed out tasks like a general issuing orders.

“Priya,” she said, her voice sharp, “you’ll handle the guest list for the gala. I don’t want any mistakes.”

Priya nodded obediently. “Yes, Ma.”

“Raj,” she continued, turning to him. “Make sure you’re sober at the event. I won’t tolerate any embarrassment this time.”