Nitya

We get off the bed, and I can feel Prathamji's eyes on me after he wears his t-shirt.

"What do you want to talk about?" He asks.

I take a deep breath and gaze at him. He is looking at me with confusion etched on his face, but is also waiting calmly for me to answer him.

"I don't want to live in fear anymore," I tell him, my voice cracking as the words tumble out. The things that have been inside me for a long time now—I need to bring them out.

Prathamji's eyes are intent on me. "Whose fear?"

"Fear of disappointing others, fear of not being enough, fear of what others think of me," I reply. "I have done that my whole life, but I don't want to do it anymore.

"In the beginning years of my life, I was scared of disappointing my father. He would openly shower his love on Bhaiyya, giving him everything without him even having to ask for anything. But whenever I asked of something, the reply would be 'You are a girl. Don't be greedy and learn to be happy with what you already have.' I would be devasted hearing him, yet I would only nod, hoping my obedience would somehow appease him.

"It was much later that I realized my naivety. Babuji was not disappointed because of something I said or did. It was because of who I am. A girl. A daughter when he wanted a son."

Tears well up in my eyes as I feel a prick in my heart. No matter how much time has passed, the hurt never lessens. The thought of being a disappointment just because I'm a girl—it pinches every time.

Prathamji's eyes softens, and he steps closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

"Babuji remained unfair to me by denying me many things, including my education, but I remained quiet because I didn't want him to be more disappointed with me. There were times when I wanted to speak up, but Maa used to silence me, saying I would only make things worse." I shake my head, remembering how Maa used to stop me. She was fearful that Babuji would raise his hands on me if I stepped even a toe out of the boundaries he created for me.

"Years passed and I learned to tolerate it, no matter how much it hurt me," I continue. "And then, when I turned twenty, I got married." 

Prathamji reaches out, and taking my hand, he brushes his thumb lightly over my knuckles.

"The fear of not being enough for you rose within me after the marriage. The way you used to remain distant from me. The way you used to talk with me. It made me felt so alone and hurt so much," I tell him, wanting him to know.

His eyes glistens, and pulling me to him, he hugs me. "I'm sorry, Nitya. I'm so sorry."

I sniffle, snuggling to him. "I couldn't understand why you were so cold. Yes, we were practically strangers, who were suddenly bound into an arranged marriage. I didn't expect you to love me from the very start. Even I would not have been able to do so. The only thing I had expected was we would be slowly start to know each other, be comfortable around each other, and some day, love, trust, and respect would creep into our marriage. That was one of my expectations when I stepped inside your house after marrying you.

"But you were so unreachable. I used to feel like I was invisible to you, like I didn't matter." I shudder as I recall those lonely days. "I didn't know then that you were forced to marry me. Neither Bhaiyya said anything to me, nor did you tell me anything. I didn't even know anything about Sandhya. That's why, I kept trying, kept hoping that you would someday warm up to me. I kept quiet and bore your anger, your indifference, even when I could not understand the reason behind it. It was because I wanted to be enough for you."

Prathamji's hold on me tightens, and for a moment, there is nothing but the sound of our breathing filling the room.

"I never meant to make you feel that way," he says after a while. "Please don't think of this as an excuse, but I was so lost in my own grief and guilt that I failed to realize how much I was hurting you." Breaking the hug, he leans back and rests his forehead against mine. "I'll do better now. You deserve more and I promise you, I'll be better."

I nod, feeling the weight of his words. The pain is still there, but hope is also blooming within me.

"The other expectation I had after I married you was being loved and respected as a daughter-in-law by your family." I take a step back and shake my head. "I got acceptance from Shrutiji, Namanji, and Dhritiji, but not from Maaji and Chachiji. And Chachaji and Dakshji—well, I don't know what they think of me. They haven't talked with me even once.

"Maaji and Chachiji never hesitated me to show how much they loathed me. Their taunts, their behavior toward me, their pettiness—it was too much for me. Yet, I bore it without talking back to them. Because I had the fear of what they would think of me if I treated them the way they deserved to be treated.

"Also, you had told me to respect your family because it's important to you. So, I did. Because I was scared I would be thrown out of the house if I didn't do it."

I inhale deeply and look out of the window for a few seconds before continuing, "I no longer want to do that, Prathamji. I'm not saying I want to be free of any expectations because I realize things will always be expected from me as a daughter, wife, and daughter-in-law. But the difference would be me returning the expectations to only those who deserve it.

"If Babuji wants to remain in my life and expect things from me as his daughter, he'll also have to fulfill his responsibilities of being a caring father to me.

"If you want me to be with you as your wife, you'll also need fulfill your part of being a husband. You'll need to treat me like your equal, not some fragile woman you'll hide things from because you think they'll break me.

"And if Maaji and Chachiji wants me to fulfill the responsibilities of being their daughter-in-law, they'll need to treat me like one. I've held back all this time, but I won't anymore. I won't care if it will be seen as a disrespect to them, but I'll give them as good as I get from them. Without any fear of their retaliation or the consequences."

I stop, watching the shift in his expression as he absorbs my words. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then hesitates, and closes his mouth.

"Are you okay with that?" I ask him. "Will you stay with me even if I stopped being the person made by my fears and decide to be unapologetically myself?"

Prathamji cups my face, and when I see the quiet acceptance in his eyes, I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I'll stand by you," he says, his voice hoarse but firm. "Be yourself, be free of your fears. I'll support you in everything."

A wave of relief washes over me, so intense that I feel my knees go weak. But I can't stop yet because there is still one thing left to ask.

"Will you support me if I tell you I have decided to learn to fight so I can bring Uday to his knees?"

Prathamji stiffens and silence stretches between us as we gaze at each other.

"You want to do it by yourself?"

I nod. "By myself and for myself." I pause, taking a deep breath to lessen the pain my recollection brought. The shame, the embarrassment, the anger—everything is still there. "It's been more than a month since that incident, but my skin still crawls when I recall it. I still feel pathetic for how helpless I had been against that monster. I couldn't fight back when he.... with those scissors...."

My breaths come in spurts as I feel his vile eyes lingering over my body. He is not here, yet I can sense his gaze raking over me. His breath fanning over my body, the pain shooting from the scars he gave me. The scars that run deeper, ripping my very soul.

Prathamji tries to hug me, but I don't let him. Not yet. I need to get everything out. I can't stop before I finish.

"I still have nightmares on some nights," I tell him. "But there are nights when I dream of the things I want to do to him."

"What do you want, Nitya? Tell me," he says, a determined look on his face.

"I want to punish Uday brutally and make him beg for forgiveness," I reply. "But I won't forgive him, no matter how hard he begs. Instead, I'll give him exactly what he deserves. Tell me, Prathamji. Will you help me with it?"

As I peer at him, I feel my heart pounding furiously against my chest. I hope he'll support me in it, but even if he doesn't, I have decided I'll find my own way and anyhow succeed in doing what I want to do.

"I have made up my mind," I continue when Prathamji doesn't say anything for a while. "This is my decision and I'm going to stand by it. But I won't force you too. It's up to you whether you want to help me or not."

The moment I stop speaking, he crashes his lips against mine in a hard, desperate kiss that knocks me out of my breath.

I gasp against him, my hands instinctively gripping his t-shirt as the intensity of his kiss overwhelms me. His fingers tighten against my cheeks, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

When he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against mine, both of us breathe heavily.

"I didn't think it was possible, but I have fallen more in love with you," he whispers, his voice low but full of conviction. "And I'll be with you every step of the way. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I'm yours."

At his words, the overwhelming sense of love and gratitude floods my heart. His love, his acceptance, warming my insides.

"Thank you for understanding." My voice trembles as I blink back the tears.

He gently strokes my hair, his voice tender as he replies, "You don't need to thank me. Instead, I need to thank you because, despite everything that went down between us, you still love me and you still are letting me love you and be with you."

As I stand in his embrace, I smile, because finally, there is no doubt or uncertainty between us. And there are no hidden secrets.

"Whatever comes next, we'll face it together," Prathamji murmurs, his voice filled with love.

"I want that too," I tell him. "Together."

After I say that, he kisses me again—softly, sweetly, and with a tenderness that makes my heart soar.