Page 39 of Mrs. Rathore

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon. Avni was sprawled across the bed, her blanket discarded onto the floor. Her face was turned to the side, her dark hair messily spread across the pillow. One arm tucked under her cheek, the other stretched above her head like she was reaching for something in a dream.

She looked... fragile. Small. Peaceful in a way that made something tighten in my chest.

It hit me then that she wasn’t used to sharing her bed. This wasn’t normal for her either.

I crouched down, picked up the fallen blanket, and gently draped it over her, careful not to let my gaze linger. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Her lips parted with a soft exhale, and I backed away.

Turning, I made my way to the couch and lay down, arms crossed over my chest, eyes closed.

Maybe sleep would come. Maybe it wouldn’t.

But one thing was certain I needed this nightmare to end. And I needed to make it through the morning without losing whatever sanity I had left.

______

I winced as a harsh ray of sunlight pierced through the window, hitting my face. A low groan slipped from my lips as a sharp pain shot down my back. The soft weight of a blanket rested over me.

Did Avni…?

“I didn’t do that,” came Avni’s voice, cool and composed. She sat in her wheelchair near the dresser, watching me through the mirror. “Rhea covered you.”

She turned her attention back to her reflection, slipping on a pair of delicate earrings. The faint scent of rose shampoo lingered in the air which was familiar, floral, unmistakably hers. She had bathed and thankfully changed that ridiculous nightgown.

Without acknowledging her, I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

The hot water washed over my skin, but the ache in my back and my chest remained. When I stepped out, towel slung low on my hips, I was irritated to find Avni still there. Perched like a queen in exile, scrolling on her phone, pretending not to care. But I saw the way her eyes flicked to me.

I smirked, grabbed the comb from the vanity, and began to drag it through my damp hair. I couldn’t even use the damn guestroom anymore because Grandma had taken over that territory. So I was trapped here, with her.

“Stop parading around like that and put on your clothes,” Avni snapped, her tone a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

I turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You can comb your hair later. Just put on your damn clothes,” she said, not meeting my gaze.

“Why? You don’t like the view?” I teased, watching the crimson creep up her neck. Her cheeks turned scarlet, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.

“Then leave the room if it bothers you,” I continued, voice low.

“I’m not leaving!” she shot back stubbornly.

I let my hand rest on the edge of the towel. Her eyes widened in warning. “Wait! I’m going,” she blurted, wheeling herself out of the room in a rush. I didn’t miss the way her breath caught, or how shaken she looked.

I held back a grin. She could act tough all she wanted, but she wasn’t immune to me.

Once dressed, I looked around the room and let out a bitter sigh. It was full of her. Her bangles on the dresser, her necklace glinting in the morning light, her clothes shoved into my wardrobe. Her scent on the sheets. Her toiletries were cluttering my bathroom. Her presence lingered in everything.

I wanted out. I’d rather sleep in the barracks for the rest of my life than be imprisoned in this room, with these memories I didn’t ask for.

Life doesn’t just deny you what you want but it strips away what you once had.

I had Ira, but I wanted more. I wanted her to be my wife. But now, I don’t even have her, let alone the chance to call her mine. So what was the point of all this? Maybe the lesson was to cherish what you had before it slipped through your fingers because the future is cruel and blind.

I walked out and made my way to my father’s office. He was mid-call but ended it when he saw me.

“I called in the duty order,” he said, voice laced with guilt. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

It was always me who went first. Now it was him. Something had shifted.