Five Weeks by Shruti Omar (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📗

The wedding got over and their parents had happy tears in their eyes to see them married. Finally!! It was a mission accomplished moment for them. They congratulated each other and snagged the couple to embrace them. Anahita scratched her forehead and some of the vermillion dusted onto her nose. She was about to wipe it but Ruma impeded her.

“It's a good omen. Let it be.”

Pouting, she nodded. She didn’t believe in good omen because had there been any, she wouldn’t have been converted into Anahita Yuvraaj Prakash from Anahita Maurya. Her mother gifted her silver idol of goddess Parvati at the time of departure and she hugged her, monotonously before trudging to her father. She hadn’t cried a tear but watching the coldness in her father’s eyes, her eyes welled up. “I am so sorry, dad.”

She sobbed, watching that her father was rooted to his place and she draped her arms around his waist, resting head on his chest. “Say something, dad, please.”

“Go Anahita! They are getting late.” Mr. Maurya mouthed, coldly and distanced her. She shook her head, clutching him tightly. “No. I won’t go anywhere. I know you are angry but I am sorry, dad. Please forgive me. I can explain. Yell on me, slap me, punish me if you want but please don't be silent, dad. Let me know what is going on in your head.”

Mr. Maurya touched her shoulder and pulled her away. She noted his eyes were devoid of remorse as he uttered his next words, “This is not your home now. Yuvraaj and his family is all you have, now.”

Her heart thudded down in her stomach and she whimpered, “Dad!”

“Go!” He ordered, icily and she gulped, nodding. Tears blurred her vision as she retreated, looking down. She felt someone had snatched her existence. But, she had been humiliated enough. Wiping her tears, she pledged to never step inside the mansion that was once her home. She glanced at her father, hoping he would be regretting his words. He was not.

“I accept that I am the worst daughter, dad and you don't deserve me but you are no better. Even I don't deserve a father like you.” She whispered through her gritted teeth, “I will never step in your home again since you’ve made it clear that it’s not my home anymore. I am sorry that you had to put up with me till now. Congratulations! You’ve gotten rid of me.”

Denying another glance, she pranced out where the car was waiting for her and sat inside. That was what she had inherited from her father; rage and waywardness but she forget to acquire restrain. Restrain on her overflowing emotions. Covering her mouth, she cried bitterly on her miseries, on her father's coldness, on his words, on her mother's hatred, on her boyfriend's betrayal, on her husband’s arrogance and on her fate. She was daddy’s princess but her father refused support when she needed most. She failed to understand where her stars betrayed her.

***

Yuvraaj took blessings from his in-laws, promising that he would take great care of their daughter and ducked inside in his awaiting car to sit next to noisily crying Anahita. The car started rolling on and he grew awkward – anxious, precisely. He fiddled thumb on his lap, contemplating how to soothe her. He extracted a Kleenex pack from the globe box and offered her. Anahita was so engrossed in emptying her tear glands that she didn’t notice him until he tapped her quaking shoulders. She darted an angry glare at him and he held up the box under her nose, passing a tentative smile. She took the box, sobbing profusely and kept it on her lap.

Yuvraaj didn’t prod and let her cry but it seemed she was planning to cry until turn blind. They were on road since an hour but her crying didn’t reduce. He sized her up; she looked vulnerable and he got genuinely concerned about her. He sat up straight and cleared his throat, “Listen, it’s been an hour and you are continuously crying. Please stop lest you fall ill.”

“Just shut up, you insensitive jerk!” She shouted, blowing into the tissue and sniffed.

Yuvraaj clenched his jaw, glancing at their driver. He didn’t like being insulted and that too before his employees. His ego itched to retort but sensibility knocked him and he clammed up, drinking the bitter insult down his throat. She just has left her home; she is shattered. Cool down! He told himself and looked away. He didn’t bother her again and Anahita eventually stopped crying, resting her head on the window sill. She gazed at the passing landscape, aimlessly. Soon, they reached Prakash Villa and her mother in law helped her to climb out of the car. She smoothed down her dress and watched everyone getting busy in the preparation of her welcome.

The rituals didn’t surprise or excite her because of two reasons; one, she was already drained from excessive crying. Two, Prakash Villa was like her second home. She had spent eighty percent of her childhood in this home. She would often tramp in to complain about Yuvraaj, playing hide and seek with her sister in law and watch Cricket matches with her father in law. Once, Yuvraaj was gone to States for his studies, she began to spend more time in his home.

“Okay, enough for today.” Mrs. Prakash announced to everyone and smiled at Anahita, fondly. “You must be tired, honey. Go and take some rest. Gitika, show her the room.” Mrs. Prakash ordered her daughter and Anahita rolled her eyes. She knew the map of the house as the back of her own palm. Yuvraaj’s room was second to the right side of the staircase and she had been there for countless times but she let her sister in law led the way.

“Come in, Vehini.” Gitika twisted the knob, pushing the door open and revealed the monochromatic room. She sighed out, trotting in. The walls were coated in slate and white with the main wall having intricate patterns embellished in it. A granite slab was aligned on the wall and seventy inches chrome display was hung over it. Beneath the plasma, a three drawer cabinet was there, perpendicular to the four-poster King sized bed. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung above the glass coffee table, cluttered with cozy sofa around it in the centre of room.