"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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तुझसे तो हूँ मैं यूँ बहुत मुतास्सिर, पर क्या करूँ मैं हूँ एक मुसाफ़िर।
Shivya was fast asleep on her side of the bed when Vedant quietly entered their bedroom. She was curled tightly beneath the duvet as though she wanted to disappear inside it completely, as though even in sleep her body had learned how to protect itself from the world around her.
Only half of her face remained visible while the rest of her body stayed hidden beneath the duvet. A few loose strands of hair were scattered across her forehead, slightly damp from sweat despite the cool temperature of the room.
Vedant stopped near the bed without making even the slightest sound. For the first time in months, he felt afraid of looking at his beloved sight. He simply stood there watching her sleep for several long moments. His wife looked exhausted even in her unconscious state.
There was still a faint crease between her brows, as though her body had not forgotten the stress and heartbreak of the day even after finally surrendering to sleep. Her breathing was slow but uneven at times, and every tiny detail made the guilt inside Vedant's chest spread further like poison.
His eyes slowly moved toward the tiny beads of sweat glistening near her forehead. Instinctively, his hand lifted toward her face.
The movement happened naturally. As though his body had already memorized the need to take care of her before his mind could even process it. He wanted to brush away the damp strands of hair sticking against her skin.
Wanted to wipe the sweat from her forehead gently.
Wanted to touch her just once to reassure himself that she was still here beside him despite everything he had learned tonight.
But his fingers stopped midway, they hovered painfully close to her skin for several seconds before slowly curling back toward his palm.
Because Vedant no longer knew whether he deserved her, not after realizing that while he had unknowingly accepted this marriage as fate, Shivya had spent years carrying the horrifying knowledge that her life had once been treated like a transaction.
His throat tightened painfully.
He remained standing beside the bed, staring at her sleeping face as though silently punishing himself with every memory replaying inside his head.
Her trembling voice downstairs.
The tears she refused to let fall.
The bitterness hidden behind every sentence. And the worst part was that despite never intending to hurt her, he had still become part of the cage trapping her.
