“Rani-sa,” she says pleasantly.
I try to return the smile.
It doesn’t come.
“I thought,” she continues lightly, tucking a corner of the blanket just so, “you decided to lose weight after last time.”
The words land softly. Too softly.
I blink. “What?”
She chuckles, as if embarrassed on my behalf. “It’s okay. I get it. It must be hard to control your desires for food.” She tilts her head, considering me. “After all, some people are just… made to eat.”
The sentence hangs in the air. She laughs—quick, airy—and steps past me toward the door. “Good night, Rani-sa.”
The door closes behind her with a soft click. I stand there long after she’s gone. The room feels different now. Smaller. Tighter. Like the walls have leaned in just enough to listen.
I exhale slowly and sit on the edge of the bed.
I know what she’s doing. I know that. She’s trying to get into my head. So why is it working?
I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself. No one here has treated me differently because of my body. Not once. Dhruv has never looked at me with anything but warmth—steady, unwavering. And yet—Maya has known him since childhood. She’s been here longer than I have. She knows this palace, its people, its unspoken rules.
What if she’s right?
What if kindness is just that—kindness?
My phone buzzes on the bedside table, startling me out of the spiral.
Vihaan bhai-sa.
I answer before I can think too much. “Hello?”
“Sitara,” he says immediately, relief threading his voice. “You alive over there?”
I laugh, the sound breaking something tight in my chest. “Barely.”
Poorvi’s voice filters in from the background. “What do you mean barely, is someone not treating you well? Also, hi, Sitara.”
“Hi,” I say softly.
“How was your day?” Vihaan asks.
I glance around the room—the flowers, the soft light, the life I’m still learning how to occupy. “It was… fine.”
There’s a pause.
“You sure,” he says gently.
My throat tightens.
“I’m okay,” I repeat, this time more to myself than to him. “I promise.”
Poorvi hums knowingly. “Just remember,” she says, “you can always talk to us.”
I close my eyes. “I know,” I whisper. I shift the conversation to Poorvi’s clinic because I can’t think of anything else. She talks about how things are going great and people are coming more in terms with therapy, and that she has a mental health awareness seminar soon. Vihaan bhai-sa interjects with his ‘my wife is too busy for me’ comments, which make me laugh at how desperately in love he is. I love that for my brother.
After half an hour, the call ends. I sit there for a long time, staring at nothing in particular.
