Threads of Destiny

17-Ashes of Anger

Barun sat slumped in his penthouse, the air heavy with cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. The dim lighting made the room feel smaller, like the walls were closing in on him. His sherwani was half-buttoned, hanging loosely on his shoulders—a reflection of the chaos in his mind. The bottle in his hand trembled slightly, but the burn of liquor did nothing to erase the fire of guilt in his chest. His bloodshot eyes stared into the distance, yet his mind replayed every detail—the tear-streaked face of his wife, Kali. The terror in her eyes. The moment he lost control.

That night had changed everything.

It started with a simple buzz on his phone—a message from Ishita. Attached was a picture: Kali with Ravi, their faces close, caught in a moment that screamed betrayal. Or did it?

Rage drowned out reason. In that instant, Kali was no longer his wife—she was a stranger, a traitor. His anger erupted, unchecked. And now, silence was all he had left.

Barun forced himself to his feet, gulping down a glass of lemon juice in an attempt to clear his mind. But the storm inside refused to settle. He needed to fix things before their families sensed something was wrong.

By the time he reached their bedroom, it was past midnight. The door was locked. He knocked. No answer. A cold fear gripped him. He called the house help, ordering them to open the door.

The lock clicked, and he stepped inside.

Kali lay curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a thin blanket. Her crumpled t-shirt and salwar clung to her trembling frame. Her dark hair spilled over her face, hiding the dried tears on her cheeks. Even in sleep, her brows were furrowed, her body tense, as if her nightmares refused to let go.

Barun stood frozen, the weight of his actions crashing over him. His anger had burned too bright, and now, only ashes remained. The bed felt like an accusation. The silence, a punishment.

He didn't sleep. At dawn, he lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl around him like a noose.

Then, a new thought hit him. What if someone saw Kali sleeping on the sofa? What if they started asking questions?

He glanced at her and spoke, his voice rough, almost a plea. "I know you're awake. Move the blankets to the bed. No one needs to suspect anything."

Kali's eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion and pain. She didn't argue. She didn't even look at him. Instead, she got up, walked to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her.

Inside, she gripped the edge of the sink, staring at her reflection.

The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger. Her skin was pale, her eyes hollow. She reached out, fingers brushing the cold glass, as if trying to touch the person she once was. But the mirror didn't lie.

Her hands trembled as she picked up an expensive shampoo bottle. The weight of it felt strange—but solid. In one swift motion, she swung it against the mirror.

Glass shattered. A fine red line appeared on her cheek where a shard had grazed her skin.

She inhaled sharply, her breath fogging up the broken glass. The shattered pieces reflected her in fragments—twisted, broken, unrecognizable.

Her thoughts raced. She wanted to scream. To run. To report him to the police. To wrap her hands around his throat for what he had done.

But she knew the truth. No one would believe her.

Images of her parents flashed in her mind. Their blind trust in Barun. Their belief in his lies, in his carefully crafted mask of respectability.

A strangled cry tore from her lips. She gripped the sink, her knuckles white. The mirror mocked her, its broken shards whispering the truth she could no longer ignore.

When she finally stepped out, the blanket from the sofa had been spread neatly over the bed. A silent message. A quiet demand.

She ignored it.

Just then, the house help entered, carrying a tray with tea and coffee. The aroma filled the air, bringing back memories of routine, of normalcy—both of which felt meaningless now.

Kali took the tea without a word, letting its warmth seep into her frozen fingers.

Barun picked up his cup. "No breakfast. I'm leaving early." His voice was distant, hollow. He didn't look at her—perhaps afraid of what he might see.

Kali sat back down on the sofa, dipping a biscuit into her tea. A simple act. A quiet rebellion.

I will be happy, she vowed silently. I will rebuild myself.

She picked up her phone and typed a message. "Can we meet?"

Moments later, Ravi's reply flashed on the screen.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She hesitated before replying.

"Let's talk in person."

Barun's jaw tightened as he glanced at her. Was she texting Ravi again? He forced himself to look away. He had already done enough damage. He had no right to question her anymore.

Just as he was about to leave, his mother, Rekha, appeared in the doorway. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.

"Where are you going?" she asked, suspicion in her voice.

Barun exhaled. "Work. I've taken too many days off."

Rekha's expression hardened. "You're not going anywhere. Today is Kali's pagfera. Have you forgotten? The women will be here soon. She must leave for her parents' house after that."

Barun ran a hand through his hair. "I don't believe in these rituals."

Rekha's voice was cold. "Then tell your wife that, not me."

The word "wife" hung between them.

For Kali, it was a reminder of wounds still fresh.
For Barun, it was a ghost of what they used to be.

He looked at her, but she stared past him, unreadable. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and walked out.

Later, Kali stood before the mirror again, transformed.

A red bindi adorned her forehead, a stark contrast against her pale skin. Sindoor traced the parting of her hair. Her kohl-lined eyes held the darkness of the night before—but there was something else now.

Strength? Or just another mask?

She wasn't sure.

Descending the stairs, she was met with murmurs of approval. Women in silk sarees and gold jewelry watched her, their smiles forced, their gazes sharp. They whispered praises, but she knew better.

They didn't admire her. They feared her silence.

Once the guests left, Kali turned to Rekha.

"Maa, I have a meeting with a client this evening. I'll be back before the pagfera."

Rekha frowned but nodded. "Don't be late. This ritual matters."

Kali smiled faintly. But in her heart, she knew—this was only the beginning.