Me(Sonalika) - How I love my Father in law(3 Videos) - Scene 9 - Gold*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 2

The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind me, sealing Babuji’s room. I stood in the hallway, leaning my back against the wall.

My chest was rising and falling. I looked down at the empty thali in my hand. It was vibrating slightly—my hands were shaking. Outside, the spring was still pleasant, still innocent. But on my skin, specifically on my right thigh where his hand had rested, I felt a burn. The heat of his palm was still there, imprinted on the silk of my sari, branding me.

I rubbed the spot, trying to wipe the sensation away. It didn't leave.

I thought about telling mother in law. Ma-ji, Babuji touched me. Ma-ji, he asked to see inside my blouse.
But the words died in my throat before they were even born. What would she say? She would look at my tight blouse. She would look at the deep red of my sari. She would say, “Why did you wear that? Why did you provoke him? He is a sick old man, Sonalika. Don't make up stories.”

I thought of Lokesh. My husband. If I told him, the house would explode. He would yell. He might stop talking to his father. Or worse... he might look at me with suspicion. “What did you do to make him think he could touch you?”
I was alone. The realization, this secret was mine to carry.

I walked to the kitchen to wash the plate. I looked at my reflection in the kitchen window. He is 60 years old, I told myself. Look at him. He is a skeleton. He can’t walk to the bathroom without help.

What could he actually do? Nothing. He was harmless. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe the isolation and the sickness had just made him lonely. He was just... having fun. Old men get like that, don't they? They lose their filter.

"It doesn't matter," I whispered to the empty kitchen.
He was just talking. Words are just air. If touching my hand or making a dirty joke made him feel alive for ten minutes, who was I to deny him that? It was harmless flirting from an old man.

I dried the plate and stacked it. The logic settled in my mind, cementing the path forward.
His health was the priority. For weeks, he hadn't eaten properly. Today, because of me—because of my hands, because of my presence—he had finished every grain of rice. That was the victory. That was my job.

If the price of his health was a few heavy glances and a hand on my knee, I would pay it. I was strong enough. I was Sonalika. I could handle an old man’s wandering mind.

I took a deep breath, smoothing the pleats of my sari. I decided then and there. I would go back tomorrow. I would let him talk. I would let him hold my hand. I would get him well, no matter what he asked for.
I didn't know it then, but in that moment of acceptance, I had just unlocked the door for him to walk right in.