Chapter Five

Anita's POV

I turned my back on Mother and sat down, my eyes fixed on his untouched food before me.

"Are you openly defying me?" her voice echoed, accompanied by a threat, but I chose to ignore it, and she continued to spat, "I've explained it to you already; you can't eat."

"I'm not defying you, Mother. He gave me permission, in your presence, to eat. And I cannot disobey my husband." I replied, my voice showing unconditional respect. I picked up a morsel of food and brought it to my lips, savouring the taste as I chewed in silence. However, her glare was burning into my skin like a firebrand, though I refused to flinch. I ate on, my eyes cast down, but my heart was pounding tremblingly in my chest.

"Fine, you have five minutes to finish eating," she snarled, her voice still stern. "And don't think you're off the hook that easily. You'll still be cleaning my room and washing my clothes today." With that, she vanished into the corridor, letting me breathe a sigh of relief as the tension dissipated.

My sister-in-law then stood before me, her eyes wide with wonder and a sly smile spreading across her face.

"What is it?" I asked, my words muffled by the food I was still chewing.

"No one has ever dared to disobey Mother, yet you did, and she's not unleashing her wrath upon you. I'm stunned."

I swallowed my food before clarifying, "I didn't defy her. I was simply hungry." I explained with politeness.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, while her smile grew more mischievous. "Well, whatever the case, I'm off to school. See you later!" She flitted out of the room.

••••

I was gathering the dried clothes from the outdoor rope when a sleek, luxurious car pulled up. While wondering who the unexpected visitor could be, my husband came out of the vehicle, transformed from the man I knew. His stylish suit, polished shoes, and new hairstyle made him almost unrecognizable. He stepped out of the car and onto the porch, his eyes fixed on the house, never once glancing in my direction. It was as if I was invisible to him.

The bitter words he had told me about ending our marriage echoed in my mind like a haunting refrain again. After a heavy sigh, I collected the remaining clothes, and I followed him into the house.

"Where are we going, though, son?" Mother's voice echoed, her eyes fixed on him with curiosity. I entered the room unnoticed and halted. His gaze remained fixed on her, and he said,

"Trust me, Mother. You'll see when we arrive. Just gather all the clothes—Rashi's, Rajesh's, and..." His eyes flicked towards me. I felt a chill run down my spine. For a moment, when our gazes met, I saw a glimmer of something cold, something distant. "Yours too," he continued, his voice detached, as if he were addressing just a stranger. "We're leaving now." his gaze shifted away, dismissing me, and he turned back to Mother.

I went into her room and kept her clothes, but my mind was racing with questions about where we were going, how he suddenly got a car, and why he was dressed in an expensive suit.

But I knew my questions would fall on deaf ears even if I asked him, since I am not his wife in his eyes. I moved back to his room, collecting our clothes.

My luggage was already packed, so I included my diary that was in the drawer. I retrieved his luggage from above the drawer, which had worn leather, and also packed his clothes. With both our bags in hand, I went out, seeing Mother there with three additional suitcases, talking to him in a trembling voice as she grasped his arm, her eyes wide with fear. "Tell me we're not fleeing Banaras, son. Tell me we're not running from debtors who'll stop at nothing to claim their due."

I glanced at him, curious too. His response was curt, his eyes avoiding mine. "We're not in debt, Mother." An oppressive silence followed before he spoke again.

"Are you ready?" he asked gruffly, his gaze flicking towards me. He didn't give me any chance to reply and went out. Mother left her luggage for me, and I loaded it into the car's trunk. After I finished, I slid into the car. She marvelled at the opulent decor, her fingers tracing the sleek surfaces as she bombarded him with questions.

"Whose car is this? How did you get it?" But he remained silent, having an unreadable expression. Even though I too have never been in such a car, I managed to hide my emotions perfectly. Finally, we arrived at an extravagant villa, its grandeur taking my breath away.

"Son, this can't be... we can't be here," she whispered, her gaze roaming on the majestic villa with awe. The grandeur of the building seemed to transport her to a world beyond Banaras. He merely smiled, as he stepped out of the car.

"This is our new home, Mother," he declared simply.

"Are you into rituals? Did you earn this wealth through some dark magic?" she asked him.

"I'll answer all your questions, but not now," he replied. "Let's go in, please."

We followed him, our footsteps resounding through the grand villa like lost souls trailing behind a guide. Inside, a funeral was happening. The mourners were clad in white sarees, their faces full with grief. The deceased, an elderly man in his late forties, gazed out from a framed picture, having a garland adorning it. The atmosphere was heavy with sorrow, and the air was thick with unshed tears. One lady, her face contorted in anguish, wept silently, her body shaking with restrained sobs.

My husband's voice pierced the silence. "Ms. Durga Ahuja." Another woman's eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, locked onto his. She rose, her movements slow, as if summoning the strength to face him.

"Yes?" she replied.

"I want you to vacate my house immediately," he stated. The mourners' gazes shifted, their faces becoming shocked in disbelief.

"My son?" Mother exclaimed, her own voice trembling with disbelief. "How can you ask such a thing at a time like this? Have respect for the deceased."

"What do you mean by your house? Have you lost your mind?" she exclaimed, her voice rising. He strode towards her, and she took a step back.

"Read this," he said, thrusting a file into her hands. She opened it, her eyes scanning the contents with growing shock. "How could my son have entrusted you with all his properties?" she said.

"Sadly, he's no longer with us to answer that question," he sighed. "You have one hour to gather your belongings and leave. And end this funeral sitting immediately."

"No," I said, speaking up because I wouldn't let that happen. It is wrong, regardless of the issue. He can't just disrupt a funeral and throw grieving people out like that. It's inhumane.

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