Karan shut the door in her face, locking himself in.
Mishti sobbed at the cruelty of his words. She stared at the door, wondering if she could be brave enough to be kind to the man who had vowed her ruin. All these years, her brother treated her the same way and now she had one more man addedto that list. The one who had vowed to protect and cherish her for the next seven births. Could life get any more cruel than this?
***************
Next Day
Karan came downstairs the next morning, all set to leave for work. He remembered every word he had said to Mishti the previous night, how he had told her he wanted her to live with the sting of rejection, to drown in the pain he believed she deserved.
But there was no remorse in him. That wasn’t who he was. He was Karan Wadhwa, a man who never took his words back, no matter how cruel they were or how deeply they cut into the other person.
Like the last two days, he expected to see Mishti around the kitchen or waiting at the dining table, ready to serve him breakfast with that quiet devotion of hers. But today, when he reached the living room, she was nowhere to be seen. For a second, confusion flickered through his mind. Then he brushed it off.
She must be in her room,he thought,crying over her fate of being married to me.
He took his usual seat at the dining table and began to eat as Maria started serving him. The house was quiet, except for the clinking of cutlery. Then suddenly came the soft sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
He looked up, and there she was.
Mishti appeared in a simple pink churidar, her hair tied into a bun, holding a puja thali in her hands. She looked innocent, almost fragile, as she walked past him, heading toward the living room without even glancing in his direction.
Her ignorance pricked him unexpectedly.
“Where are you going?”
She paused, but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she spoke to Maria, who was around.
“Maria, I’ll be late. Make sure you don’t cook anything for me today.”
Maria blinked in surprise. “Sure, ma’am. But won’t you have your breakfast?”
“No. I’m fasting.”
Karan leaned back in his chair, remembering how spiritual Mishti was. Before their marriage, when he’d gathered details about her, he’d learned she was a devoted follower of Lord Shiva. She was someone who observed fasts every Monday and never missed her weekly temple visits. Prayer and devotion weren’t occasional acts for her; they were an inseparable part of who she was.
“Your countless fasts won’t help you earn your husband’s love,” he mocked. “Stop wasting your time.”
The words were again deliberately cruel. For a fleeting second, he saw the hurt in her expression before she masked it. But she didn’t answer back. Not after what he had said last night.
She simply continued to walk out of the mansion.
Karan tossed the napkin aside and followed. He told himself he didn’t care, but still, he wanted to know how she was going and whether someone was accompanying her.
Outside, the driver hurriedly opened the car door for her.
“I don’t need a ride,” Mishti said softly.
“But ma’am, Shiv temple is quite far,” the driver reminded her. “It’ll take thirty minutes at least on foot.”
“I’ll manage,” she said. “Just tell me the directions.”
The driver hesitated, then began explaining the route to her. Mishti nodded gratefully, thanked him, and started walking toward the gate.
“Ma’am!” the driver called again, noticing something. “You haven’t worn your sandals.”
“I know.”
Karan’s gaze instinctively dropped to her feet too. Was she really planning to walk all that way barefoot? On those rough roads?
