Pratham

Lying on the bed, I stare at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. Nitya has been on my mind constantly for the past two days. Ever since she returned from her parents' house, she has been quiet, distant even, and it bothers me more than I care to admit.

Initially, I felt she was sad because she missed her parents and brother after she returned. But slowly, I have started wondering if there is something else that's bothering her.

I feel that way because she is not just sad, she is withdrawn. She looks forlorn most of the times, and I have caught her looking out of the window, lost in her world, the sadness in her eyes clenching my heart.

Feeling genuinely worried about her, I have tried asking her the reason behind her sadness many times in the past two days, but she seems to have shut me out completely. No matter how many times I ask her, her reply is 'I'm fine.' Just that and nothing else.

Why won't she tell me what's bothering her?

Along with the worry about her, I also am feeling confused due to my own feelings. I am unable to fathom why I have been caring so much about her. Why the hell do I want to figure out what's the matter with her due to which she has been looking lost for the last two days?

I've told myself countless times that love will never seep into my relationship with Nitya. That I'll properly fulfill my responsibility toward her and that will be it.

There have been times when I have tried to convince myself that being worried for her is also a part of my obligation toward her and nothing else.

But no matter how much I say that to myself, my heart does not seem to agree. There's this nagging feeling in my chest that tells me there's more to it. That perhaps I care more about her not only because of my duty toward her, but also because of something else.

Something else that I have been unable to grasp.

Or, you have already grasped it, but don't want to agree. My heart quips, and I sit up on the bed, feeling my restlessness rise.

Lately, I have started remembering our moments together from the last few weeks. The way Nitya had hugged me when I found her in that abandoned building. The way she had looked at me with unshakeable trust for me in her eyes while saying that she felt safe with me. The way she used to smile at me. The way she used to wait for me to sleep every night before wrapping her arms around me.

She has stopped smiling at me and has also stopped hugging me while sleeping. And that bothers me too much.

Along with it being bothering, it's also unsettling to me.

I don't want to dig deeper into those feelings that her presence seems to evoke in me because I feel it won't be fair to Sandhya. I had promised her forever and I can't sway from that promise now just because she is not with me in this world.

Are you keeping that promise because you love her? Or, is it because of your guilt, Pratham?

Overwhelming remorse follows those questions because I know where they are stemming from.

You can't keep lying to yourself. You need to admit it's because of your guilt and not your love.

Closing my eyes, I remember those moments again. Those last moments when my selfishness snatched Sandhya's life.

"I know you don't mean it, Pratham. You are just confused right now."

"You can't do this to me. I'll die without you."

I had thought she was being overdramatic then because she tended to be that way whenever things didn't go her way.

How was I to know how wrong it was of me to think that?

How was I to know she would really die if I walked away?

"I'm sorry, Sandhya. I'm so sorry," I had apologized countless times that fateful day after getting the news of her death, crying while I held her bloodied shawl.

It was then that I had vowed to keep my promise of forever with her. I had vowed that, even though she was not by my side, I would repent for my part in her death by spending my entire life cherishing the good moments I spent with her.

I locked all my bad memories related with her at the back of my mind and only kept remembering all the good times we spent together. The times when we were happy in the beginning of our relationship. I did so because I thought by doing that, I would not only be able to keep her alive in my memories but would also start loving her again.

But now, no matter how much I try to remember, those memories have started slipping away from me. In their place are the new memories that I have lived with Nitya.

"No. I can't do this to Sandhya. I had promised—"

I abruptly stop when I hear something shatter.

Turning toward the door, I see Nitya standing there. A stricken expression on her face as her gaze darts between me and the broken pieces of glass on the floor.

Watching her crouching on the floor and picking the pieces, I hurriedly climb down from the bed and walk to her.

"Stop, Nitya," I tell her when she hisses after a shard of glass pricks her finger. A drop of blood forming there. "Let it be. I'll clean it."

She shakes her head. "No. It was my mistake. I should do it."

Sighing, I take the pieces from her hand and put them on the floor. Then, standing up, I pick her in my arms and lead her to the bed, ignoring her shouts of protests.

"What are you doing, Prathamji?"

"You have developed a habit of not listening to me, so I have also decided to improvise my ways to make you listen."

For a moment, she looks like she wants to say something, and I perk up. Since the last two days, the only interactions we have had are me asking questions and her giving monosyllable answers.

So, if us arguing would make her talk more with me, then I'm all for it.

But when Nitya shakes her head and averts her gaze from me without saying anything, I feel my frustration grow.

Why won't she talk with me?

"What has happened to you, Nitya?" I ask, my voice firm. "You have been.... different since you returned from your parents' house. Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," she replies, still not looking at me.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," I insist. "You seem withdrawn and sad. It has started to worry me."

She finally gazes at me. "You don't need to be worried, Prathamji. I told you. It's nothing."

"It's definitely something," I say, my voice loud as my patience wears thin. "Why don't you tell me?"

She flinches slightly and stands up from the bed, walking to the window.

I follow her and stand beside her as she gazes out into the dark night.

"Tell me. What has happened?"

Nitya turns toward me, her eyes searching mine before she takes a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to speak.

"I have decided something," she says, her voice low.

"Decided? About what?"

"Yash Bhaiyya is still here in the village. I called him yesterday and told him to come here tomorrow morning."

I feel a bit angry at the mention of Yash's name and also because I don't want him to set his foot in this house. Not after how he behaved with me and Naman Bhaiyya. But I stop myself from showering that anger on Nitya. After all, Yash's actions are not her fault.

"Did you call him because you missed him? Do you miss your parents too? Is that why you have been sad?"

"Actually, I want to—"

"Why didn't you say so before?" I ask, interrupting her. "If that's why you have been feeling sad, let's call not only Yash, but also your parents. If you want, I'll even arrange for them to stay nearby for a few days. I would have asked them to stay here in the house with us, but I know they would not want to stay in their daughter's house. We have an empty house just five minutes away. I'll have our workers clean it first thing in the morning so it would be ready by the time your parents are here."

Although I won't be able to tolerate Yash, keeping my patience will be a small price to pay if him being here can cheer up Nitya.

"I didn't call Bhaiyya because I missed him and wanted to meet him," she says, making me frown. "I called him because I have decided to leave with him."

Her words cause a jolt to pass through me. "Leave with him? You just returned two days back. Why do you want to leave again?"

"I.... I need to go, Prathamji," she tells me, her voice trembling slightly. "I can't stay in this house anymore."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," she replies, looking at me with a mix of resolve and sadness in her eyes. "I'm freeing you from this marriage. I'm freeing you from our relationship that was forced to you."

Those words hit me harder, and anger flares up before I can stop it. "How the hell can you decide this on your own? I am also a part of this marriage, Nitya. You can't just—"

"You never wanted to be a part of this," she interjects. "You told me yourself, Prathamji. You never wanted to get married to me. That's why, I have decided to free you from this unwanted relationship."

Her red-rimmed eyes cause my heart to clench. A mix of anger and fear rising within me.

"Why now?" I ask, clutching her arm and pulling her close to me. "You never wanted to leave before. You didn't leave even after I told you I would never accept you as my wife. So, why now?"

She does not pull away, she lets me hold her as she looks at me with tears pouring out of her eyes.

"Because I love you, Prathamji," she confesses, shocking me.

"You.... love.... me?"

She nods, and this time, when I pull her closer, she shrugs my hands off her, stepping back to make distance between us.

"I would have stayed married to you, would have kept loving you from afar, would have longed for you my whole life, waiting for you to finally accept me in your life. But I cannot do that when....," she trails off, her voice breaking at the end.

"When?" I ask, still too stunned, but wanting her to continue.

She swallows, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. It's as if she is wondering whether she should answer me or not.

Slowly, the conflict clears, and she starts speaking. "When I know you love someone else," she replies. "I can't keep you trapped with me when I know you have someone else in your heart. I can't do that to you and Sandhya. Also, it would be unfair to me too. After all, I can't keep pining for you when I know you'll never love me. And I can't let you keep longing for the woman you truly love even after knowing how much it hurts to be away from the person we love."

"How did you find out about Sandhya?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm despite my shock due to what she said. If Nitya hadn't told me, I would have never guessed this was the reason behind her desolateness since the last two days.

"After returning from my parents' house, when I was about to enter our room, I heard you talking with Udayji," she tells me. "I heard you saying that you won't ever be able to forget Sandhya, and I.... I am.... only.... your responsibility."

Wiping her tears, she gazes at me in such a way that I feel it tearing through my soul.

"Do you feel stuck with me, Prathamji?" She asks. "Since you married me, wasn't there even one moment when you felt something for me?"

I have. Not only once, but many times. I want to tell her, but I can't.

I can't back off from my penance.

"Sandhya is—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupts. "I'm sorry but I can't." She takes a few deep breaths, tears continuously flowing through her eyes. She looks as if she is on the verge of breaking down but is trying her best not to.

"Kya mere yahaan rehne ya naa rehne se aapko koi farak padega?" She asks me. "Kya aap sab kuch bhool ke mere saath khush reh payenge?"

("Will my being or not being here matter to you? She asks me. "Will you be able to forget everything and be happy with me in your life?")

I know the answer to her first question.

Of course, it will matter to me. Her three days of absence when she had visited her parents' house had made me realize how used to I am to her being with me.

But her second question....

Would I be able to let go of my remorse and stay happy with her?

"You can't do that, Pratham. You have promised me forever. You can't go back on your word now," Sandhya's voice reverberates in my mind, and I look guiltily at Nitya, knowing what I'm going to say will hurt her.

"Nahi," I say, willing myself to continue despite the protests from my heart. "Naa hi tumhare yahaan hone ya naa hone se mujhe koi farka padega. Aur naa hi main sab kuch bhool ke tumhare saath khush reh paunga."

("No," I say, willing myself to continue despite the protests from my heart. "You being or not being here doesn't matter to me. Also, I won't be able to forget everything and be happy with you in my life.")

At my reply, Nitya slumps on the couch behind her, such look of devastation flitting through her face that, unable to bear seeing her like that, I turn away and leave the room.