11 hours ago
## Update 14: The Book Returned and Neha Bua's Call
The next day, my stomach was a knot of anxiety. I had two stressful tasks: I had to return the stolen book, and then I had to face Neha Bua, the only person in the family who openly resented me. The dread was so consuming I couldn't even eat properly before leaving the house.
In the afternoon, I went to Madam's house. Today, her mood was much lighter than yesterday's interrogation, and she was dressed in a simple sari, her face softer and more relaxed.
"Avi, what's wrong?" she asked immediately, noticing my tense shoulders. "You seem upset."
"Nothing, Madam. I just didn't sleep well last night."
"Wait, I'll make you a hot cup of coffee," she said, already heading toward the kitchen.
"Okay."
As soon as she was out of sight, I moved with lightning speed. I pulled the book from my bag, slid it back under the bed precisely where I had found it, and shoved the bag back into the corner. A cold sweat broke out on my back, but I felt a powerful, cleansing wave of relief wash over me. The danger is gone.
"Here's the coffee," she said, returning with the mug. "Tell me, what's going on that has you so worried?"
"Nothing much. I just study all the time."
She observed me over the rim of her mug. "You don't seem like a student of your age, Avi."
"That's because I had to repeat a class after my parents died," I explained, the familiar tragedy now serving as a quick excuse for my maturity. "There was a three-year gap. Otherwise, I would be graduating now."
I stood up abruptly, eager to leave before she could ask any more probing questions. "Madam, I have to go. I'll come again tomorrow."
"So soon?" she asked, surprised.
"I have to go do something important," I insisted.
"What do you have to do?"
"I have to go to my Bua's house."
"Okay, then," she said, accepting the excuse. "Come tomorrow."
"Bye," I said, walking quickly out the gate.
It's good I put the book back, I thought, a wave of finality settling over me. Now I'll go to Bua's house.
I walked the short distance to Neha Bua's house. I knocked on her gate, and Komal—Neha Bua's daughter—opened it. She saw me and immediately turned and went inside without saying a single word. I followed her in and sat down on the sofa.
Komal and I were the same age and in the same class. This was due to my three-year gap and the local custom of village girls often having late schoool admissions. Neha Bua's younger daughter, Kavita, and her other daughter, Leena, were also in the same class. Leena’s twin brother, Rajesh, was in their grade but lived and studied at a boarding schoool.
My Pooja Bua's daughters, Sweta and Sital, also studied in the city and lived at their paternal aunt’s (their father's sister's) house. Even Pooja Bua's son, Raj, had a gap in his studies, like me, due to an earlier accident. Our large family was a complex web of shared classes, age gaps, and local logistics.
I waited for Neha Bua, wondering exactly why she had summoned me.
The next day, my stomach was a knot of anxiety. I had two stressful tasks: I had to return the stolen book, and then I had to face Neha Bua, the only person in the family who openly resented me. The dread was so consuming I couldn't even eat properly before leaving the house.
In the afternoon, I went to Madam's house. Today, her mood was much lighter than yesterday's interrogation, and she was dressed in a simple sari, her face softer and more relaxed.
"Avi, what's wrong?" she asked immediately, noticing my tense shoulders. "You seem upset."
"Nothing, Madam. I just didn't sleep well last night."
"Wait, I'll make you a hot cup of coffee," she said, already heading toward the kitchen.
"Okay."
As soon as she was out of sight, I moved with lightning speed. I pulled the book from my bag, slid it back under the bed precisely where I had found it, and shoved the bag back into the corner. A cold sweat broke out on my back, but I felt a powerful, cleansing wave of relief wash over me. The danger is gone.
"Here's the coffee," she said, returning with the mug. "Tell me, what's going on that has you so worried?"
"Nothing much. I just study all the time."
She observed me over the rim of her mug. "You don't seem like a student of your age, Avi."
"That's because I had to repeat a class after my parents died," I explained, the familiar tragedy now serving as a quick excuse for my maturity. "There was a three-year gap. Otherwise, I would be graduating now."
I stood up abruptly, eager to leave before she could ask any more probing questions. "Madam, I have to go. I'll come again tomorrow."
"So soon?" she asked, surprised.
"I have to go do something important," I insisted.
"What do you have to do?"
"I have to go to my Bua's house."
"Okay, then," she said, accepting the excuse. "Come tomorrow."
"Bye," I said, walking quickly out the gate.
It's good I put the book back, I thought, a wave of finality settling over me. Now I'll go to Bua's house.
I walked the short distance to Neha Bua's house. I knocked on her gate, and Komal—Neha Bua's daughter—opened it. She saw me and immediately turned and went inside without saying a single word. I followed her in and sat down on the sofa.
Komal and I were the same age and in the same class. This was due to my three-year gap and the local custom of village girls often having late schoool admissions. Neha Bua's younger daughter, Kavita, and her other daughter, Leena, were also in the same class. Leena’s twin brother, Rajesh, was in their grade but lived and studied at a boarding schoool.
My Pooja Bua's daughters, Sweta and Sital, also studied in the city and lived at their paternal aunt’s (their father's sister's) house. Even Pooja Bua's son, Raj, had a gap in his studies, like me, due to an earlier accident. Our large family was a complex web of shared classes, age gaps, and local logistics.
I waited for Neha Bua, wondering exactly why she had summoned me.
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