The venom in his tone stung, but she didn’t cower this time. When Karan turned to leave, she reached out and caught his shoulder.
Karan didn’t turn back. He just stood there, rigid.
“So what is this then?” she asked quietly. “This marriage of ours? An open marriage? Where you can sleep with someone else and proudly confess it to my face?”
When he spun around, he saw her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but there was fire in them…the kind that burned through pain.
“Last night at the party, you told your friends you don’t like sharing what’s yours,” she continued. “And yet, you’re sharing what’sminewith someone else. So, tell me, Mr Karan Wadhwa, do I get that liberty too? To sleep with someone else when I’m married to you?”
The fury that flashed in his eyes could have lit the entire mansion. His hand slammed into the wall beside her head, not to hurt her, but out of sheer, uncontrollable rage. It definitely hurt him, but not more than her words.
“You evenlookat another man, Mishti, and see what happens. I dare you.”
That was her breaking point. She straightened her spine, meeting his glare without flinching. “Fine. Then next time whenyou lookat Kanika,” she shot back, “remember that too.”
Before he could react, she shoved him hard enough to make him step back, then turned on her heel and walked out.
Karan stood frozen for a moment, his chest rising and falling with fury. Had she challenged him? Mishti, the woman he’d assumed was quiet, naive, and submissive, had just thrown his own words back at him?
He dragged a hand through his hair, muttering a curse under his breath. He’d known she was soft-spoken, gentle, easily hurt. But this fierce side of her, the one that dared to stand up to him, was something he hadn’t even dreamt about. As if just having the tag of a ‘wife’had suddenly upgraded her fighting spirit.
***************
Wadhwa Mansion – Next morning
The next morning, Mishti knelt before the idol in the temple room, offering flowers and chanting soft hymns.
Ever since that Teej day, when she had dared to open this room against Karan’s clear orders, she had expected him to lock it again. But to her surprise, he hadn’t. Perhaps, unknowingly, he had allowed her to continue her prayers here.
He never stepped into the room, though, never even looked at it. Mishti wondered why he despised God so much. What had broken his faith so deeply that he’d shut God’s very presence out of his home? She still didn’t know.
Finishing her prayer, she rose, adjusting her dupatta, and turned to leave when her gaze once again fell on the small wooden cupboard tucked in the corner of the room. It had always caught her attention during her morning pujas, and curiosity lingered in her mind to know what it held. But each time, something or the other distracted her — a servant’s call, a chore, or simply the thought that it wasn’t her place to meddle. Today, however, the pull was stronger.
Giving in to her curiosity, Mishti knelt and opened it gently. Inside were stacks of old holy books, their pages yellowed but still sacred. She began arranging them properly when something slid out and fell to the floor with a faint thud.
A diary.
It was thin and worn out, the leather cover had faded, and dust clung to the edges. Mishti picked it up carefully, brushing it clean. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. As she opened it, her eyes softened. There were photographs glued to the pages, each one captioned with neat handwriting.
The very first picture made her heart melt.
A baby boy, splashing in a tiny bathtub, laughing without a care in the world. Those eyes were the same dark eyes she saw every day.
Karan’s!
A small smile broke on her lips as she read the caption written beneath it in blue ink:
“My Chiku.”
Her smile widened. So his nickname wasChiku? How cute.
Smiling to herself, she turned the next page carefully, afraid the fragile paper might tear. More pictures followed of Karan, growing older with each page.
“10th December 1994 – Chiku’s first toy.”
“16th May 1995 – Chiku’s first step.”
“5th July 1995 – Chiku called me ‘Maa’ for the first time.”
