"Happy Married Life, Shivya Pathak" I weakly smiled seeing my condition, mangalsutra dangling in my neck, vermilion in hair and both hands filled with gold bangles.
"Come out quickly or do you want me to break the gate," my husband knocked again...
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“Bhabhi, please aap chalo na humare saath,” Shaurya pleaded. He had been at her heels since morning, repeating the same words again and again.
Bhabhi, please come with us.
Shivya gave him the same answer every time. A few times she even scolded him, as she had learned that saying no politely only encouraged him. Saying it firmly made no difference either.
“Shaurya, stop troubling her,” Ritu said as she poured steaming tea into cups.
Shivya glanced at her chachi and gave her a grateful smile. She picked up the tray from the kitchen counter. “I’ll serve it to everyone.”
Shaurya fell into step beside her like a shadow that refused to detach. “Bhabhi, itna bhaav khana bhi achhi baat nahi hoti,” he nudged her with mock accusation.
Bhabhi, acting so pricey isn’t a good thing.
She stopped carefully and turned slowly to glare at him. “Aur tum ab khaoge thappad,” she said sweetly, “woh bhi Vedant se.”
And now you’re going to get slapped — and that too by Vedant.
Shaurya gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if struck by tragedy itself. “Kar diya na ek second mein paraya,” he lamented. “Maine aapko kandha diya tha sir rakhne ke liye jab aapke woh husssssbaaaand Mr. India bane hue the.”
See? You made me an outsider in just one second.
I offered you my shoulder to rest your head on when your husband was playing Mr. India.
Shivya’s lips twitched despite herself. She looked behind him, pretended to be shocked, and said, “Vedant, yeh aapko Mr. India bula raha hai.”
Vedant, he’s calling you Mr. India.
Shaurya froze. His spine straightened as fear replaced drama. “Nahi, bhaiya,” he blurted, words tumbling over each other, “maine kuch nahi bola, aapki kas—”
No, bhaiya, I didn’t say anything, I swear on y—
He stopped mid-sentence when he turned and realized there was no one behind him.
Shivya watched the realization dawn on his face, the way his eyes darted like a trapped animal. She pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to laugh, but ended up laughing anyway.
“Hans lo,” Shaurya muttered with wounded pride. “Aapka bhi time aayega.”
Go ahead, laugh.
Your time will come too.
She ignored him, walking past toward the living room, trying to control her laughter.
In the living room, Vedant was sitting beside his chachu, along with his father and grandmother. “We will come back tomorrow night,” Chachu said casually. Then he paused, looking at Vedant suspiciously for a couple of seconds, as if trying to figure something out.
