Taken For Granted

Chapter 58

Sheetal's POV
After what feels like an eternity, I finally drag myself out of bed to find that the message on the wall has disappeared. In fact, there's not even a trace of the writing left. I knew it. It was just a prank. No one knows I killed Bhai because no one was there to witness it.

Thirty Minutes Later

After a lot of thinking, I decide to make an entrance. Dressed in traditional clothes, I head downstairs, hoping to make an impression. As I approach the scene, I see Manorma in the middle of an argument with Payal. The drama is so delicious, I can't resist watching.

Manorma (yelling): You gold digger, don't you dare sit near my son!

Payal (yelling back): I'm not a gold digger! In fact, I'm richer than him! I am Ms. PAYAL SINGH OBEROI!

Manorma (scoffing): Just because your last name is Singh Oberoi doesn't mean you're rich...

Akash (yelling, trying to mediate): Enough! Let's all just eat dinner quietly, please!

I can't help but fume at Akash. Why did he have to ruin the drama? I quietly walk over to the dinner table, strategically sitting next to Anjali, who's looking especially gloomy tonight.

Me (whispering to Anjali): Are you okay?

Anjali (forcing a smile): Of course, Sheetalji.

I give her a fake smile, pretending to care, before turning my attention back to the table. But suddenly, my breath catches. There's Shyam, sitting right across from me, drenched in blood. Wasn't Arnav sitting there just a second ago? I scream, unable to process what's happening.

Anjali (tensing, concerned): Why are you screaming?

Me (pointing, frantic): He... he... he's back!

Anjali (shaking me): Who? I point again, more forcefully.

Me: Him!

Anjali (looking confused): I know Arnav is back...

This woman can be so dense. How could she not see I'm talking about Shyam? I turn around slowly, dreading what I'll see next. But to my shock, Shyam is gone, and Arnav is sitting in his place, staring at me with a look that's colder than ice. What is happening? I must have imagined the whole thing.

Me (pretending to be guilty): I would like to apologize to Khushi and Payal for my rude behavior earlier. I hope you can forgive me...

Manorma (smiling warmly): It's okay, Sheetal bitiya. You don't need to apologize.

Arnav (with a quick smile, staring at me): It's fine.

Oh my God. Did Arnav just give me a smile? My heart races, and I feel like I might faint. This is going to drive Khushi insane. I can't wait to see her jealous. I glance over at Khushi, who's too busy serving food to her boyfriend—or is it her best friend? Why isn't she caring for her husband? Perfect. Just the perfect opportunity to put her down.

Me (pretending to be upset): Here, ASR, have some food... since your wife seems to be too busy with her best friend.

But instead of acknowledging me, Khushi ignores me, as does Payal. Why? I decide to serve Arnav some food, but when I return to my seat, I freeze.

My food is covered in a strange red liquid. I blink, trying to make sense of it. Is this real?

Me (whispering to Anjali): Di, what color is my food?

Anjali (surprised, glancing at my plate): It's... there are too many colors... I can't say for sure. I glance down at my plate again. The red liquid is still there. What is happening to me? I try to brush it off, telling myself I'm just imagining things. But the unease in my stomach won't go away.

I rush upstairs to my room, my nerves fraying.

How can there be a power outage in RM?

This place has always had power.

Someone is playing mind games with me.

I killed Bhai with my bare hands and disposed of his body without anyone knowing. So why is this happening?

I walk to my bed, hoping some rest will clear my mind. But just as I'm about to lie down, a familiar hand grips my wrist, pulling me back.

Anjali (shouting): Are you mad, Sheetalji?

This is hilarious. A mad person asking if someone is mad? How stupid can she be? I'm much smarter than her.

Me (pretending to be worried): What?

Anjali (turning on a flashlight from her phone, pointing to something): Look!

I look where she's pointing and feel my blood run cold. There, on my bed, are sharp spikes poking up from the mattress. If I had laid down, I would have been impaled. For once, Anjali actually did something useful.

Me (pretending to be grateful): Thank you so much, Anjali. I don't know what I would have done without you. As I meet her eyes to show my appreciation, I freeze. The woman in front of me isn't Anjali. It's Bhai. No... this can't be possible. I blink rapidly, trying to shake off the image. But when I open my eyes again, Anjali is standing in front of me. Only now, she's wearing sindoor and a mangalsutra. What? Anjali hasn't worn that in years... She's divorced! Anjali (shaking me): What's going on, Sheetalji? I am too shocked to respond.

Me (stammering): No... nothing... Why are you wearing sindoor?

Anjali (confused): I'm not wearing sindoor. I think you need to rest, Sheetalji. Let me take you to my room. You can sleep there.

I have no choice but to follow her. But when I enter her room, I freeze. It's filled with photos of Bhai. Oh God. Help me!