Anita's POV

The house was completely dark, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared.

Everyone was fast asleep, but I was wide awake, rotating left and right on the living room carpet.

I prefer to sleep on the floor. It has become a habit, despite the chairs in the room.

"Mother," I thought aloud when my mind wandered to her.

"What is she doing right now? Is she okay?" I murmured to myself, getting up and walking around the room, my footsteps the only sound there.

"Does Father still lose his temper with her? No, I hope not," I thought, and I sighed. I returned to the carpet, ignoring the comfortable chairs, and laid down. Just as I began to drift off to sleep, the creak of the door leading to the corridor of the exit awoke me. My heart started to race with fear, pounding in my chest like a drum.

"Is it a thief?" I wondered.

I was certain everyone was asleep, which made the creaking door even more frightening. The intruder tried to move quietly, but my heart continued to pound loudly in my chest. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, but my body became tensed when a deep, husky voice spoke, "Stop!"

The sudden command made me flinch, and a bright light flashed in my face, making me squint. I clutched my sari tightly, frozen with fear, until silence evolved again. When I finally opened my eyes to check if the intruder had left, I was hit with a strong, overpowering fragrance that made my head spin.

Everything went black as I lost consciousness.

•••••

The morning sunlight streamed through the window. I winced while my eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness. I looked around, unsure if I was dreaming last night or if others were indeed in the house.

My head felt clear, without any heavy fog of forced sleep.

I wondered if I was hallucinating due to exhaustion, given how draining the previous day had been. As my senses fully returned, I tried to piece together the events of the night before, but my memories were hazy and unclear.

I got up, deciding not to dwell much on the topic, covered my face, and headed back to the room to use the bathroom.

I opened the door quietly, careful not to disturb my husband, who was still fast asleep.

I picked up my sari from the drawer and entered the bathroom. After I had undressed, I realised that there was no tap in sight. Unlike the bathroom in my husband's previous house, which had a tap and a bucket, this one seemed to be missing those fixtures.

I stood there, confused, wondering how I was supposed to bathe.

"How long are you going to take in there?" I heard his voice, which was followed by his knock on the door.

"I... a while," I stammered, still frantically searching for a tap.

"What? Do you think I have all day to wait? Come out now!" he demanded.

"I don't want to disobey you, but I can't," I replied, my voice trembling, as I was still undressed and had no idea how to turn on the water as what was before me seemed to be like a modern tap.

"Don't push me to my limits. You have two minutes to finish whatever you're doing in there and come out," he warned.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my sari from the basket, and began to drape it around me. But just as I was adjusting the folds, he burst into the room, causing my hands to falter and my mouth to drop open in shock as I went frozen. The sari's edges slipped from my grasp, leaving me standing there, exposed.

"What, didn't I tell you I was coming in two minutes?" he asked, turning away from me.

"I didn't know you were being literal," I mumbled, re-draping the sari for the second time.

"Well, now you know. I'm very particular about my time," he said sternly.

"Is it really important for me to know that?" I asked, my voice turning sad. "I mean, we'll be getting a divorce soon anyway." My words trailed off, regret flooding my mind as I thought about how I had asked for it in anger during the funeral.

"You're right, it's not important. We shouldn't know anything about each other," he said.

"You can turn around now; I'm done," I informed him after finally managing to drape it properly. He spun around, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, taking in my fully dressed body.

"Well, then get out. I need to use the room," he said curtly, in a dismissive tone.

"I need to use the room too. I haven't prepared breakfast yet, and," I started to explain, but he cut me off.

"You've been in here for over ten minutes. What were you doing all that time?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone incredulous.

"Looking for the tap," I mumbled, my eyes dropping in embarrassment.

"Seriously?" he asked with disbelief as he took a step closer to me. My heart quickened with worry, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I wondered what he intended to do.

I instinctively backed away, but he kept moving, his eyes fixed on me, until he was mere inches from my face.

"Don't move again," he commanded, his voice cold and stern.

I nodded mutely, my gaze trapped in his mysterious eyes, before suddenly warm water cascaded down from above, drenching my head and body.

"Ahh!" I blurted in surprise, and my foot slipped on the wet floor. I shut my eyes tight, fearing I'd fall, until a cold hand grasped mine and pulled me onto a hard surface. When I opened my eyes, I found myself face-to-face with him, our noses mere inches apart.

"What are you trying to do?" he exclaimed. "Why are you trying so hard to get close to me?" he demanded, his words shattering the small spark of hope I had dared to feel about our relationship.

My face fell, and I shook my head, stepping back from the shower's spray.

"I'll be out in five minutes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gazed at me for a moment, then turned and left the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, I let the tears that had been welling up in my eyes fall freely.

"We'll be divorced soon," I reminded myself, the harsh reality piercing my heart like a knife.

••••

I kept his plate of food in front of him as he took his seat in the dining room, while Rashi served Rajesh. The room was filled with chairs, but due to their traditional customs, the women of the household—Mother, Rashi, and I—stood by the side, waiting for the men to finish eating before we could begin.

"Hasn't the girl woken up yet?" my husband asked, looking at Mother.

I had asked about the girl earlier, and Mother told me that she was an old family friend who would be staying with us. I found it strange, of course. Something was wrong, and I will definitely find out what it is.

"I went to her room to call her, but she wasn't there," I said simply.

However, my husband exploded in anger, "What? Where could she have gone? Why wasn't I informed? What's the point of even having you around here if you're useless?" he yelled, his voice rising with each question while his words hit me like a storm, making me feel battered and defensive.

I flinched, feeling a tide of fear and nervousness, unsure of how I was supposed to know the girl's whereabouts or why I was being blamed for her absence.

"Please calm down, son," Mother intervened, trying to defend me. "She's new to our family, she can't be expected to know everything."

He interrupted her, his voice rising again in frustration. "Why can't she know everything? That girl is my responsibility, Mother. If anything happens to her, how will I face her brother?"

I hesitated, then spoke up, my eyes cast down. "Last night, some people came into the house." I wasn't sure if it was relevant to the conversation, but I felt it was important to share the information.

"Oh God!" he screamed, and he sprang up, approaching me.

My heart started to race wildly, and he snarled upon reaching me, his tone making my body tremble.

"Are you foolish? Are you stupid? Are you dumb? People came into the house; you saw them and decided to keep quiet. Tell me, what should I call you?"

"I..." I tried to explain, wanting to tell him that they had knocked me unconscious, but he cut me off, his words pouring out in a torrent of anger.

"I don't want to hear any excuses," he growled, his hand grasping my chin and forcing me to meet his intense, dark gaze.

"That girl is more important to me than you are in my life. If anything happens to her because of your carelessness, you'll regret it. I promise you that," he warned. He turned and stormed out of the room, leaving his breakfast untouched. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fled to his room.

"I didn't know they came for her," I whispered, my eyes shut tight as I sat on the floor, hugging my knees in a futile attempt to comfort myself.

"If I had known, why would I let them take her? I'm not heartless like him," I sobbed, the tears flowing freely now.

Suddenly, a haunting question pierced my mind: "But why were they here for her in the first place?" The thought lingered, and I wept even harder.

"Does he despise me so much that he won't even listen to my side of the story or show any empathy for my feelings? Does he really hate me that much?" I thought to myself, the pain and hurt of his harsh words and actions sinking deep into my heart. The tears I had been crying fell even harder now.

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