MAHATAB

HER TEARS RICOCHET

Yuvika

I stand there, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Should I call the cops first or alert security? I take a deep breath to steady myself and decide to call the police, explaining the situation. They instruct me to stay inside and not open the door.

Glancing at the camera, I see they’re still there. My breathing grows heavy, and before I know it, I’m hyperventilating. My hands start to shake as panic sets in—a panic attack I haven’t had in years. I thought I was past all this, but seeing them again takes me right back to being 13, feeling as powerless as I did back then. Gripping the cabinet for support, I force myself to take long, deep breaths, trying to calm down.

They keep banging on the door, but I don't respond. Suddenly, my phone rings—it’s Inspector Fadnavis. With trembling hands, I answer. He tells me he’s outside and asks me to come out. I wash my face in the bathroom, compose myself, and check the camera again to confirm the police are here. Unlocking the door, I step outside, only to hear my mother’s voice.

“What is this nonsense? Why have you called the cops?” she demands.

I ignore her, walking straight to the inspector to explain the situation. As I start to recount the events, I feel a tight grip on my wrist. Turning around, I see my mother glaring at me, demanding answers.

“You have no right to be here," I snap, "and legally, your sister and her kids can’t come near me.”

She cuts me off, yelling, “That’s why I’m here—to talk about this! Why have you filed a restraining order against them?”

I pull my wrist free from her grip. “It’s none of your business,” I say coldly. Turning back to the inspector, I add, “They’ve clearly violated the restraining order.” I want them arrested. The inspector assures me they will make arrests, but first, they need to interrogate them. Since they’ve only come to my house without causing any physical harm, the charges won’t be severe enough to hold them. He suggests I go to court to file for a stronger restraining order.

While I’m speaking with the inspector, I hear my mother’s sister say to my mother, “Look at what your daughter has done! We only want to care for her, and this is how she treats us. She’s pathetic.” My mother responds, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach her to behave.”

What is this woman talking about? What kind of spell has she cast on my mother that she believes her after everything that’s happened? I’m not a little girl anymore—I can stand up for myself. I turn to my mother’s sister and say, “Enough with the drama. I know who you are and what your intentions are.”

She scoffs and turns to my mother. “Look at her, mouthing off to me. Now that she has a little money, she thinks she can act high and mighty.”

Before I can respond, the cops take her away, leaving me standing outside my apartment with my mother glaring at me.

She steps closer and raises her hand to slap me, but before I can react, I see someone blocking me. I look up to find Dhananjay holding my mother’s arm and glaring at her.

I am shocked to see him. What is he doing here? He turns to my mother and asks, “What does she think she’s doing?”

My mother snaps back, telling him not to intervene and asks, “Who are you?” Then, she looks at me and says, “Is this what you’re doing in Mumbai? Living with a guy while your poor father thinks you’re alone? Look at you, living with your boyfriend.”