Chapter 12: Chapter 9

“This is Mr. Desai,” the man replied curtly.

I froze. Urmi’s father-in-law. But why was he answering her phone? Was she okay? My heart pounded as I gripped the phone tighter, bracing myself for his next words.

“Are you going to say something or not?” His tone was sharp, cutting through the silence.

“I’m sorry, but… doesn’t this phone belong to Urmi Di? Can I speak to her?” I asked hesitantly, dreading his response.

“Oh, I see. You must be Siya, Singhania’s daughter, isn't it". His voice softened slightly, but his calmness felt calculated.

“Yes, sir. Can I spea—”

“She isn’t here. Probably left her phone behind. I’ll inform her you called. Do pass my regards to Mr. Singhania.”

Before I could respond, the line disconnected.

The abruptness of his tone lingered, making me uneasy. I could still remember his menacing demeanor from the wedding—calm on the surface, but there was something unsettling about him. This call felt no different.

Urmi Di, I hope you’re okay.

Back at Desai Residence

“Where is my phone? I left it right here!” Urmi muttered, frantically searching through the sheets. Losing it was the last thing she needed, especially since she was trying to make a good impression on her mother-in-law, Sumitra Desai.

“Are you looking for this, Urmi?” a soft voice asked.

Urmi turned, startled, to find Sumitra holding the phone. Her initial relief was quickly replaced by nervousness. After the tense confrontation with Mr. Desai, she didn’t want to risk upsetting her.

“Yes, thank you, Ma. I’m sorry—I’ve been so absent-minded lately,” she replied, hesitating.

Sumitra smiled warmly. “It’s alright, dear. Adjusting to new surroundings takes time. There’s no need to hustle or pretend to be someone you’re not. Just be yourself.”

Urmi was taken aback by her kindness. Her mother-in-law’s words felt genuine. She couldn’t help but wonder how Sumitra managed to stay so gentle while living with such a domineering husband. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. She couldn’t risk ruining this budding relationship with idle speculation.

“So, are you ready?” Sumitra asked cheerfully.

“For… what, Ma?” Urmi stammered, unsure.

“For your first dish to serve today! You’ve forgotten already, haven’t you?” Sumitra laughed, gently guiding her towards the lively kitchen.

According to tradition, a newlywed bride was expected to cook and serve her first meal for the family.

“What do you plan on making? Spicy? Sweet? Or both?” Sumitra’s excitement was bright.

Urmi hesitated. “I think I should prepare something Dad likes…” Her voice trailed off. But it doesn’t matter what I make. That man will never praise it, will he?

Sensing her unease, Sumitra placed a reassuring hand on her head patting her. “Don’t overthink it. Make something you love, because it’ll be easier and more enjoyable. Besides, the Desais could use a fresh addition to their menu!”

Urmi smiled for the first time that day. She had never expected to receive such warmth from her mother-in-law. With Sumitra’s support, they prepared lunch together. In the midst of chopping and cooking, Urmi forgot about her phone entirely.

Meanwhile, Siya decided to wait until Urmi called her back. She didn’t want to risk another awkward encounter with Mr. Desai.

Later that Day

As luck would have it, only Raghav and Sumitra tasted Urmi’s dishes. The three of them bonded over a shared love for sweets and a mutual dislike for overly spicy food. Mr. Desai was too busy with work to join them, and Vasu, tied up with the demanding schedule at Desai Corporation, didn’t return home until late at night.

At Dinner

“You make a decent meal. Good work,” Mr. Desai remarked after two bites.

Urmi stiffened at his rare compliment. This was only their second interaction since their initial meeting, and his words, though mild, left her tense. Sensing her unease, Vasu squeezed her hand under the table.

The dinner table was silent. Nobody spoke unless Mr. Desai initiated the conversation, and even then, it was often to reprimand Raghav for some trivial matter.

“Vasu,” Mr. Desai said, breaking the silence. “You wanted to discuss something about Raghav. What is it?”

Cough. Cough.

Raghav froze. His heart raced as the dreaded moment arrived. He had planned to confess everything about Noorie, but his throat tightened.

Why can’t I say it? Is it Noorie’s rejection? The conflict of her being Muslim? Or… is it Siya?

His mind swirled with doubts. Meeting Noorie one more time felt like the only way to stop this torment. He needed clarity, answers—to make sense of his feelings.

Before anyone could press further, Raghav pinched Vasu’s arm and said, “There’s nothing to discuss. I just wanted to ask for activity fees, that’s all.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his plate, placed it in the sink, and retreated to his room.

Later, he sent Vasu a message explaining his need for time to figure things out.

In His Room

Lying on his bed, Raghav stared at the ceiling, thoughts swirling. With Siya, there was innocence—a sense of something good. But with Noorie, he had once dreamed of a lifetime together. Now, her increasingly volatile behavior made him question everything.

He typed a message to Noorie:

“I want to talk to you. Meet me at the cafeteria on Sunday.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t tell me you failed to convince your father again. God, Raghav! I’m so sick of you. Why are you such a coward? Fine. Meet me, but don’t waste my time.”

No matter how many times Raghav read it, this time he couldn't facade the lie that she was just angry. He kept reading the message over and over, the words cutting deeper each time.

That night, he cried silently, cursing himself for being in this place. A place where no one believed in him or cared whether he lived or died.

How many times had he thought about ending it all?

How many nights had he battled the suffocating weight of loneliness, wondering if anyone would notice if he disappeared?

He closed his eyes, the tears soaking his pillow, as the night swallowed his cries.