Page 90 of Mrs. Rathore

I wasn’t someone he chose. I was someone he was stuck with. A responsibility and burden.

Ira still had his attention. Maybe even his heart.

Back in my room, I didn’t cry. There wasn’t room to sob. Only silence. A silence so loud it drowned out the music from downstairs.

I reached for the water bottle and drank directly from it, letting the cool liquid push down the lump in my throat. Then I lay down, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend the distant sounds of celebration didn’t matter.

But one thought kept circling my mind like a whisper that wouldn’t fade:

“He never looked at me that way.”

And maybe…He never would.

_______

Chapter 34

AVNI

It was the last day of Aryan’s leave, and I had never seen him so excited to return to duty. He was almost gleeful as he packed his suitcase, as if living with me had been some cruel punishment and he was finally being set free. Good for him. He should leave. The sooner, the better.

I watched from a distance, bitterness simmering beneath my skin. I hadn’t been able to forget the image of him with Ira. It wasn’t jealousy that clawed at me; it was resentment. That night, while the others enjoyed the party, I sat alone in my room—hungry, thirsty, and invisible. Didn’t he notice my absence? Didn’t he care enough to check on me?

Had he ever cared about me?

Now, the house felt hollow. Aryan and Mrs. Rathore had gone out for some important errand, and though I wasn’t technically alone with a housekeeper, a chef, and a security guard milling around as they treated me like a ghost: someone to be seen, not heard.

But I wasn’t completely hopeless. My therapist had given me some good news: I could walk without crutches now. But he strictly warned me not to dance. Absolutely not, he had said. My leg wasn’t ready.

But what did he know about my soul?

The silence in the house was unbearable. I needed to move, to feel something other than this spiraling emptiness.

I remembered hearing that Rhea and Dadi would return tonight, and my heart stirred with something close to joy. I wanted to welcome them. I wanted to be me again.

So, I stepped out onto the patio.

It was spacious and sun-drenched, with golden light pouring through the tall garden trees, scattering shadows across the floor. The air was still and peaceful. My dupatta fluttered in the breeze, as if nudging me forward.

Barefoot, I walked to the center, the cool concrete grounding me. My ghungroos were loosely tied around my ankles, almost trembling with anticipation. It had been nearly two months since the accident, since I last danced. Since the rhythm last thundered through my blood like a heartbeat. The accident had stolen my legs, but it could never silence the dancer in my soul.

Even when I couldn’t move, I danced in my head. But today, I was ready to bring that dance back to life.

I closed my eyes, folded my hands, and bowed low in invocation.

The first movement was slow as my foot brushed the ground. The beat played on my phone.

Ta Thai Thai Tat…

The rhythm awakened something dormant inside me. My body moved gently and cautiously, like stepping onto a frozen lake. But with each beat, I pushed a little further. The pain simmeredbeneath the surface, but I ignored it. My teeth were clenched, and my body burned.

Yet, my face remained calm and composed. I was spinning, stepping, and twirling.

The hem of my kurta swirled around me. My hair came loose, cascading over my shoulders as I twirled. The sunlight danced with me. For a brief moment, I was weightless and alive.

And then...

CRACK.