Paakhi

T H I R T E E N

Two days after Vandana had stayed home; she found her life beginning to fall back into a monotonous schedule. It was getting her restless and uncomfortable; almost guilty. For every day spent without attempting to locate her child felt like cheating the baby as a mother.

But it was imperative she gained Mohit's trust again.

She sighed quietly. Her damp hair from the shower earlier remained glued to the back of her neck as she eyed the frying pan with the sizzling vegetables aimlessly.

Mohit was working on something official in the living room.

Vandana did not have to go out; did not have to look at him to be able to imagine the thin line his lips would be pressed into as he would concentrate on his work; lost in the bubble that he had created around himself so selfishly. A bubble of indifference for their daughter. The bubble that he was trying to create around her too; but failing miserably at.

She did not understand him; did not understand men; how they were capable of being so incredibly stoic without so much as twitching a brow.

Were all men like this?

Selfish. Cruel. Controlling. Abominable creatures incapable of empathy and love.

And women? Emotional fools; who spent their entire lives trying to see just one flicker of love in the eyes of the love of their life.

"Is the tea ready?" she heard Mohit call, and snapped out from her thoughts.

"Yes!" was her prompt reply.

Turning the knob of the stove; she left the vegetables simmering as she grabbed the two cups of tea from the kitchen counter and walked towards the living room. He didn't look up when she adjusted his cup on the wooden coaster.

He liked to have her sit with him for tea; it helped him concentrate he would say.

Vandana seated herself on the chair opposite to his on the dining table; careful not to be sitting too close as to invade his privacy; and not too far as to alert him of her repulsion within.

The bruise on her wrist from Mohit's iron grip had started to wear off; the redness was now being replaced with a peculiar blackish-blue. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the mark would be all but gone; she had seen too many such bruises on her mother in the past to know how long they took to heal.

Despite herself, she sighed out loud. She was definitely in a much better position than her mother had ever been. Mohit had never hurt her physically; but for this one time he had pulled her away at the train station forcefully. Compared to what she had seen as a child, this bruise felt non-existent.

After two, whole minutes of pin drop silence, Mohit pulled down the screen of his laptop and gazed her way. He smiled; circling his palm around the cup of piping hot tea; black tea with no milk and no sugar. Just the way he liked it.

"I was wondering..." he was first to break the silence, "...if you would like to go out for dinner tonight."

Vandana sipped at her tea; attempting to buy herself some time to give out a rational response.

Dinner? He wanted to go for dinner? When she was dying on the inside; worrying for their daughter?

The response that came out however, was a meek, "Whatever you say."

Mohit caught onto the tone immediately. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle.

"Vandana...you know how hard I am trying to bring things back to normal for us."