Devil's Bride

The village beauty

The morning sun bathed the village in a warm glow, its rays slipping through the dense canopy of coconut palms and dappling the narrow pathways. In the small outhouse behind the grand yet aging home of Ayaan’s grandfather, Maya stood on the verandah, carefully tying her long, glossy hair into a braid that reached her hips.

Her reflection in the window caught her eye—a 17-year-old girl with radiant skin, wide almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and a soft smile that seemed to brighten even the dullest day. But Maya was never one to dwell on her looks.

She had bigger dreams.

Inside the house, her desk was a flurry of activity. Stacks of books on biology, chemistry, and physics were spread out, alongside neatly written notes and practice test papers. On the wall, a small calendar marked the days until her NEET exam—a stepping stone toward her dream of becoming a doctor.

“Beta, have some breakfast before you go,” her father called from the kitchen.

Maya stepped inside, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her father stood by the stove, his weathered hands skillfully flipping dosas on a hot pan. He was her rock—the one person who had stood by her through everything. After her mother’s passing, he had poured all his love and energy into raising Maya and ensuring she had every chance to succeed.

“Appa, I’m going to Dadaji’s house after this,” Maya said, sitting at the small wooden table. “He said he’s waiting for me to read the newspaper to him.”

Her father chuckled, placing a steaming dosa on her plate. “That old man spoils you. You’re like the daughter he never had.”

Maya smiled, a pang of affection tugging at her heart. Ayaan’s grandfather had been a constant presence in her life, always ready with a kind word or a nugget of wisdom. Living in his outhouse had created an unspoken bond between them.

“Still,” her father continued, his tone softening, “don’t forget to take care of yourself. You study too much, beta. Rest is important too.”

Maya nodded, her determination shining in her eyes. “I’ll rest after I become a doctor, Appa. Just a little longer.

With the day’s chores done, Maya headed toward the main house, a basket of guavas tucked under her arm. The path was familiar, lined with flowering bushes and shaded by the sprawling neem tree that marked the entrance to the house.

“Dadaji!” she called out as she stepped onto the porch. The old man was sitting in his usual spot, a woolen shawl draped over his shoulders despite the warmth of the day.

“Maya, my child!” he greeted her, his face lighting up. “You’re late today. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”

“As if I ever could,” Maya replied with a grin, placing the basket on the small table beside him. “Look what I brought for you—fresh guavas from the garden.”

The grandfather chuckled, his eyes crinkling with delight. “You spoil me too much, girl.”

Settling beside him, Maya picked up the day’s newspaper and began to read aloud, her voice steady and clear. Every now and then, the grandfather would interrupt with a comment or question, and they’d lapse into easy conversation.

As the sun climbed higher, their conversation drifted to Maya’s studies.

“How are the preparations going?” the grandfather asked, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s tough,” Maya admitted, her tone thoughtful. “But I’m managing. I want to make Appa proud—and you too, Dadaji.”

“You already make us proud, Maya,” he said warmly. “You have a good heart, and that’s what matters most. But I have no doubt you’ll make a fine doctor one day.”

Maya smiled, her cheeks tinged with color. “Thank you, Dadaji. That means a lot.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of village life. For Maya, these moments with the grandfather were a source of peace—a reminder that, no matter how hard the road ahead seemed, she was never truly alone.

As Maya prepared to leave, the grandfather’s gaze turned distant. “My grandson will be arriving soon,” he said, almost to himself.

Maya paused, curious. “Your grandson? The one who lives in Mumbai?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Its the first time he's here. He’s... different from us. You’ll see.”

Maya tilted her head, intrigued by the hint of sadness in his voice. But she didn’t press further. Instead, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, Dadaji. And if he’s anything like you, he can’t be that bad.”

The grandfather chuckled softly, though the shadow in his eyes remained. “We’ll see, my dear. We’ll see.”

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