Chapter 24: Chapter 21

The study is dimly lit, with the morning sun barely cutting through the heavy velvet curtains. Mr. Desai sits around his grand desk, surrounded by towering bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. A faint scent of sandalwood lingers in the air. His fingers drum against the desk’s polished surface, the sharp tapping a rhythmic expression of his simmering irritation.

Mr. Desai wondering, “Siya. Always a step ahead, always questioning authority. Does she think this household runs on rebellion? I agreed to this farce of a marriage to save her family, and now she parades around with her so-called ‘independence.’ Insolent creature”

The door creaks open, and Sumitra Desai enters, her gold bangles clinking softly as she carries a silver tray with tea and biscuits. Her presence is warm, but it barely softens the cold tension in the room. She places the tray on the desk, her movements hesitant.

To break the ice, she uttered, “It’s been a while since we visited the ancestral temple, hasn’t it? I was thinking we should all go together. A family visit would be auspicious”.

Mr. Desai looks up, his steely gaze narrowing slightly. He glares at her, as though the mere suggestion of this visit is an inconvenience to him.

Still he calmly announces, “The ancestral temple… Hmm. Yes, it has been a while. Fine. We leave next week in the morning”.

Mrs. Sumitra hesitates, her eyes briefly flickering to the door, where Raghav’s shadow can be seen from the crack. She steels herself, sensing the weight of her words. “Next week ? But Raghav has his basketball tournament then. He’s been preparing for months—”

Mr. Desai cutts her sharply, “Enough. A match cannot take precedence over our family’s traditions. The boy must learn priorities. This is not up for debate". And who even wants to watch his useless match.

Mrs. Sumitra lowers her gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air grows heavier, and for a moment, it feels as if the walls themselves are closing in.

Outside the study, Raghav stands in the corridor, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched into fists. He listens, his heart sinking with each word.

When Mr. Desai calls out, his voice is sharp, like the crack of a whip. “Raghav! I assume you’ve been eavesdropping like a scoundrel. Step inside at once”.

Raghav enters, his face carefully blank, though his eyes betray a flicker of hurt. The disappointment in his father’s voice always stings, but today it cuts deeper.

Mr. Desai continues, “You understand the importance of traditional visit, don’t you? Family comes first”.

The family that didn't include me. “Yes, sir. I understand”.

He turns to leave, his footsteps echoing through the silent hall. There’s no argument, no protest—just the weight of years of disappointment settling over him like a familiar cloak. He does not look back.

Sunlight streams through the large windows of Siya’s room, casting a golden glow over the elegant furnishings. She paces the plush rug, her brow furrowed in thought. Vasu lounges on the chair with diving deep in thoughs, while Urmi leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Siya with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Siya bawl, “I can’t let this slide. Raghav worked too hard for this match. He’ll never admit it, but I know he’s crushed. And what did Dad do ? He sweeps it under the rug like it’s nothing”.

Urmi is worried for Siya. The time she has entered the mansion, their father in law looks more irritated. “Siya, you’re playing with fire. If he finds out you skipped the temple trip—”.

Siya cuts her off with a determined voice, “I know exactly what I’m doing Di. I’ll play along, tell them I’ll join in another car, and then I’ll sneak off to the match. It’s not just about Raghav’s game—it’s about showing him that someone cares, that he’s not alone in this house”.

Vasu looks upto Siya, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Now this is the Siya I like—fearless and unapologetic. But are you sure you can pull this off ?”

Urmi in her worried voice said, “ Don't give her your blessings Vasu”.

But, Siya smirks, “Watch me”.

She turns on her heel, a quiet storm brewing in her chest. This is her chance to stand up for Raghav, to defy the suffocating control of Mr. Desai.

Next Week

The mansion bustles with activity as servants carry bags and trays to the waiting cars. Siya lingers at the entrance, adjusting the pleats of her saree with deliberate slowness. Her mind races—she can’t afford to waste a second. The others stand by the cars, waiting for her to join.

Mr. Desai in his impatient voice, “Siya, we don’t have all day. Be quick”.

Siya smiled sweetly, her voice a mask of politeness, “Of course, Dad. I’ll just grab a few things and follow in the other car. Don’t worry, I’ll be there on time”.

Mr. Desai looks at her suspiciously but says nothing. His gaze lingers, weighing her every move.

The cars pull away, leaving Siya standing alone in the vast driveway. She watches until they disappear from sight, then turns to a nearby servant. “Bring me some stationery. Pens, notebooks, whatever you can find. Quickly”.

The servant hesitates, confusion flickering across his face. “Stationery, ma’am? At this hour?”

Her voice was sharp as a blade, “Did I ask for your opinion? Just do as I say”.

The servant scurries off, and Siya marches back into the house, her mind a whirlwind of focused determination.

She changes into a casual outfit, her fingers trembling as she quickly unpins her saree and discards it onto a chair. The fabric feels like a restraint, an emblem of the life she’s being forced to live. But then, using the stationary, her fingers worked quickly, grabbing a piece of paper and some markers. In minutes, the poster was ready. Bold letters screamed: GET THEM, RAGHAV!

“Family traditions may come first for you Mr. Desai, but today, I’m choosing what matters”. A small but fierce smile curling on her lips. Today, she will make a choice, and it will be her own.