The bed dipped slightly as I sat on my side.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan above us.

My gaze shifted to her side.

Right side.

Every breath she took was controlled.

Each movement she made was done with the weight of being aware of the confined space.

It was enough for me to know that she was awake.

Just like me.

I pressed my palms on the mattress about to lay down, careful of the distance.

Yet in the darkness, the sheets felt stiff.

My senses were heightened,

about every toss and turn she took, after every few minutes.

I was able to feel her gaze on me.

Yet I didn't dare to shift.

Maybe her essence-

The remnants of her lavender scent felt heavy with the weight of her gaze.

I exhaled shakily.

Her fingers brushed mine lightly.

Before it was pulled away with a flash of light.

Like someone being deprived of warmth in the cold winter.

I was able to feel the tick of the clock on the bedside table along with her shallow breaths.

I tried to adjust the pillow, anything to distract myself-in this familiar yet unfamiliar space.

I cleared my throat-looking at the fan humming above the ceiling.

Simple.

"I apologize."

Her gaze snapped to me, yet I didn't look.

The chime of her payal along with her bangles felt like invading something in me.

For which I wasn't ready.

She shifted just slightly-until the scent doubled.

"Ever since I grew up, I had witnessed my mother doing all the chores."

She paused looking at me as though confirming I was listening.

I turned towards her side.

She continued.

"And my father used to come back from work at night, and end up screaming at her for late dinners and scattered house."

Her voice filled the silence, easing the awkwardness of it.

Her gaze was stuck on the far end of the wall,

as though she was lost in the old dusty lane of memories, where no one got the courage to visit.

Yet still carried the quiet corners of it-like a secret.

"I used to get startled sometimes,

that I would shut the door of the room and press my hands on the ear just to block the noises.

I remember,

Shreyash was younger.

Almost five too young to understand anything, but still-

I used to act like as though nothing happened-

I used to sing-songs to him just to distract him.

To keep him away from the chaos.

It would work but somewhere I was droning in those voices."

Her voice trembled just slightly.

"I always wondered why-my mother never retaliated.

But she would just shake her head and go to sleep without food."

She paused as if trying to find the right words.

My fingers twitched just slightly resisting the urge to hold her hand to comfort her.

The way she took pauses.

The deep breaths, it was clear that she was considering me safe to show her vulnerable side for the first time.

The sheet felt warm beneath me as she shifted slightly closer to me.

"Every time I would ask her-

She would just say, he is just frustrated because of the work, maybe he is tired.

He needs rest.

I would nod feeling satisfied,

That it's just he is tired.

Because he loved maa so much."

A smile graced her lips.

As though she found an old photograph in that corner of the corridor.

Filled with the bright and colorful memories,

yet still lost its colors with time.

"But somewhere, I was not able to shake off that image of him, shouting at her.

And, I remember once he even slapped her."

She looked at me.

The space between us.

I blinked.

"That created my repulsion to marriage as I grew up."

I stretched my hand as I gulped down the thick lump in my throat.

"Want to sleep on the right side?"

She looked at me, genuinely looked at me.

Then she shifted closer, until her head was pressed on my shoulder.

I looked down just to make sure that she was comfortable.

She smiled as she looked up.

"You smell like me."

"No, you are close to me."

I swallowed as I felt her warmth enveloped me.

The same lavender scent that I carried now.

Her scent.

It felt different.

She held my hand, running her fingers on the veins.

Goosebumps erupted on my neck.

I almost held a breath.

Is this real?

I looked down slightly trying to confirm it.

Until her voice broke the silence.

"But with you,

the thought of marriage feels different."

With that she clutched my shirt.

I was able to feel her smile on my chest.

Every time her chooda clinked.

My fingers tightened around the bedsheet.

God.

What dream is this?

Until I felt her warm breath on my neck.

This wasn't a good idea.

But do I regret it?

No.

🌷

I was able to feel the way his breath hitched.

I couldn't help but a smile crept onto my face.

It didn't feel wrong, in any way.

Relief.

That's what I felt.

I don't know-no matter how much I tried but sleep refused to come.

Maybe it was the change of environment.

Or maybe the right side felt cold.

Or maybe I got used to his right side.

I don't know-

But I felt like sharing-

A part of me.

I don't know why?

But it felt enough to share something.

And true to my instincts.

Now, I was in his arms,

and I was feeling drowsy.

I never knew my body wash could smell this calming.

It calmed my senses in every possible way.

I leaned in a little closer.

Suddenly I heard his voice, near my ear.

Low, hoarse.

Like with every word he was aware of my breath.

"I will buy you a new one"

I chuckled.

"No need, it smells good on you.

Consider it as a gift."

Suddenly a lope side grin graced his face,

and I knew what was coming-

"Oh I would cherish it, until every nerve in me feels like your scent."

I closed my eyes-pretending to sleep-but with each word my ears turned pink.

"Since it's the wedding gift from my wife."

I clicked my tongue.

"Off course-you were not able to decide for me,

so I thought of completing the ritual.

Consider it as a favour."

He chuckled.

His eyes lightened up as he finally intertwined his hand with mine.

Though I was able to feel his grip was shivering.

I frowned.

Was he cold?

No. Then.

But then his voice reached me.

"I will be grateful for a lifetime.

" Ms. Shukla."

And I knew he wasn't talking about body-wash.

🌷

I had always grown up watching my mother asking permission, every time her eyes would linger a little longer over a suit.

As though contemplating, if it would feel right.

Not to her but to the people around her.

Then she would shake her head and walk away as though she never wanted something for herself.

Every time she would spend a little time with herself.

The taunts would resonate through the walls, till evening.

Still she did every single thing.

Willingly.

Or maybe she never thought about it.

My hands tightened around the boxes of sweets.

The sky had turned into a golden glow of evening.

After a day of chaos.

With my mother fussing over the last minute rituals.

Every time she would walk-with one or the other thing.

Reminding me.

To ensure everything was right.

Ironic.

She took care of everything.

Yet she needed permission for herself.

My hands worked to pack my stuff which was left behind.

The house was quiet, as my father packed everything carefully.

No one said anything again.

Yet the way they held it.

It felt odd.

I ran my eyes through the neatly packed gifts-that I was supposed to take home.

He had gone outside for some-paper work.

But soon he will return.

I shut the trolley, zipping it carefully.

But as I think of last night.

I understood why she never questioned it.

Maybe, she considered it enough.

Or maybe she was conditioned like that.

Or maybe she was mature enough to understand.

My father had his own battles to fight.

But how does it justify his behaviour towards her?

I shook my head.

Not wanting to think further.

But as my gaze shifted to the toe ring.

I couldn't help but think-

It feels so odd with him.

Nothing like-I witnessed.

The smell of cinnamon and sweet filled my senses.

Something warm settled inside me as my fingers stilled on the trolley.

To be continued.

Unedited.