Page 56 of Mrs. Rathore

A beautiful tradition... for those who believed in what it stood for.

I was surprised how patiently Mrs. Rathore told me everything about that. She didn't look that religious, but deep down, she believed every word she said. There was a quiet strength in her faith, the kind that doesn't need to be loud to be real.

I, on the other hand, was never too into God or rituals. What I believed was simple: my parents were my god and goddess. Their love, their sacrifices, their presence in my life that was sacred to me.

So, while I listened to her speak about Vat Savitri Puja, a part of me respected it not because of the tradition itself but because of the devotion behind it.

"Bhai..." Rhea called out, and I froze.

I didn't turn to look at Aryan, but I could feel him. His cologne drifted through the air. It was familiar, sharp, and unsettling. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, growing heavier and darker like his very presence cast a shadow over everything.

I heard the scrape of a chair, then the soft thud as he sat... right next to me.

"It's the first time you're having breakfast with us since the accident..." Rhea murmured, then paused, clearly regretting bringing it up.

Moments later, Mrs. Rathore entered the room with Saurav trailing behind her. His sudden appearance caught me off guard. Rhea had mentioned he was heading back on duty tomorrow, so this must've been his last breakfast with us. He must have come to meet us.

Their arrival was a welcome distraction. I could already feel my skin prickling with discomfort under Aryan's silent, and simmering presence.

Grandma had gone to the temple early in the morning and still hadn't returned. God knows when she'd be back. If she were here, maybe Aryan would calm down a little. Her presence was the only thing that seemed to soften the monster he had become.

"How's Ira doing? Is she feeling any better?" Mrs. Rathore asked as she took the seat beside Rhea, her voice warm but tired.

"She's still in observation," Aryan replied, his voice clipped. "They'll try removing the stitches in another week. She's finally responding to people now. Slowly."

"That's good," Saurav nodded. "It's a miracle she survived such a hit. God truly protected her."

I kept my eyes down. The silver rim of the plate caught the morning light and shimmered slightly, reflecting everything but the emotions crammed inside me.

Aryan didn't spare me a glance. Not even an accidental one. The silence between us was louder than anything else in the room. My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest.

"How's your leg, Bhabhi?" Saurav asked gently, finally acknowledging my presence. "You managed to walk now. That's brave. Finally, you get rid of your wheelchair."

"Better," I replied quietly. "The therapy is helping."

Aryan scoffed. It was low, almost inaudible but not to me.

My eyes lifted for a moment, just enough to see the sharp edge of his jaw clenching. His fingers drummed against the table. His presence felt like a pressure on my ribs.

I was used to his distance this past week, but this version of him was so cold, so filled with rage that he didn't bother hiding anymore. It was something else entirely.

"Legs heal faster than hearts," Aryan muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

I stiffened. My hands clutched the edge of my saree tightly beneath the table.

"Aryan..." Mrs. Rathore's voice held a gentle warning, a quiet plea for him to keep his composure in front of Saurav and the servants.

But Aryan barely managed to contain the hatred simmering beneath the surface.

"What?" he snapped, lifting his head, eyes sharp as glass. "Why should I pretend everything is fine when it's not? I'm not like everyone here, walking on eggshells and playing pretend."

His words stung like a slap.

But I didn't move. Didn't speak. I'd promised myself I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of my tears.

"Aryan," Mrs. Rathore said softly, trying to maintain calm. "This is not the time... please..."

"Actually, this is the perfect time," Aryan cut her off, pushing his chair back slightly. "She wants to keep fasting for my long life, right? That's what this puja is for? Maybe someone should ask her why she's praying for the life of a man she tried to destroy."