05-02-2026, 01:18 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-02-2026, 01:50 PM by కుమార్. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Divya stepped back into the hall, her bare feet soft on the cool tiles. The house felt strangely quiet now — only Monu’s toy cars making faint vroom sounds from the corner where he sat cross-legged, surrounded by plastic tracks.
On the dining table sat the birthday cake — chocolate with extra cream, still in its box, untouched. The candles waited in a neat row beside it. Ranjith’s helmet was gone from the hook near the door. His security officer bag, usually slung over the chair, was missing too.
Divya’s stomach twisted — a small, cold knot.
She smoothed her pallu one more time (even though it was already perfect), then walked over to Monu and crouched down beside him, forcing her voice light and normal.
“Beta… Papa ghar aaye the kya?”
Monu looked up, eyes bright, nodding enthusiastically.
“Haan Mummy! Papa aaye the. Cake laaye the! Par phone aaya aur woh jaldi se chale gaye. Bola emergency hai.”
Divya’s smile stayed fixed on her face — the practiced one she used when Monu scbangd his knee or when guests asked too many questions.
“Oh… achha. Kab gaye?”
“Thodi der pehle hi. Bike ki awaaz aayi thi.”
She nodded slowly, patting his head.
“Theek hai beta. Ab cake rakhte hain fridge mein, Papa ke liye. Raat ko saath mein khaayenge.”
Monu pouted for a second but went back to his cars.
Divya stood up. Walked to the kitchen doorway. Her eyes drifted — almost against her will — toward the back path visible through the small window. The bathroom door was now closed. The pile of clothes was gone (she’d gathered them hastily after her bath). Nothing looked out of place.
But the knot in her stomach tightened.
*Did he see?*
The question bloomed in her mind like ink in water.
Did Ranjith come to the kitchen for water like he always did? Did he glance out the window? Did he walk down the back path? Did he hear… anything?
Her bangles had clinked so loudly. Her shouts — God, her shouts — had echoed off the tiles. And Beedaa… he hadn’t been quiet either. The wet sounds. The low growls. The final groan when he…
She pressed a hand to her lower belly unconsciously — still feeling the faint warmth, the slight ache, the slick reminder that hadn’t fully washed away even after the cold shower.
Confusion swirled.
*If he heard… why didn’t he come in? Why didn’t he shout? Why did he just… leave?*
Part of her felt relief — sharp, guilty relief.
Part of her felt terror — what if he knew?
She shook her head hard, as if to dislodge the thought.
*No. He didn’t see. He couldn’t have. He was in a hurry. Emergency. That’s all.*
She turned back to the stove. The dal was still warm. Rotis were ready under the cover. Sabzi waited in the pan. She switched on the gas, stirred mechanically, added a pinch of salt she didn’t need — anything to keep her hands busy, her mind occupied.
Monu ran in after a while, hugging her leg.
“Mummy, cake abhi khaayenge?”
She bent, kissed his forehead — the normal mother gesture that grounded her.
“Haan beta. Thoda wait karo. Papa ke liye bhi rakha hai.”
She served him a small plate — roti, dal, sabzi — and watched him eat happily, chattering about scho.ol.
On the dining table sat the birthday cake — chocolate with extra cream, still in its box, untouched. The candles waited in a neat row beside it. Ranjith’s helmet was gone from the hook near the door. His security officer bag, usually slung over the chair, was missing too.
Divya’s stomach twisted — a small, cold knot.
She smoothed her pallu one more time (even though it was already perfect), then walked over to Monu and crouched down beside him, forcing her voice light and normal.
“Beta… Papa ghar aaye the kya?”
Monu looked up, eyes bright, nodding enthusiastically.
“Haan Mummy! Papa aaye the. Cake laaye the! Par phone aaya aur woh jaldi se chale gaye. Bola emergency hai.”
Divya’s smile stayed fixed on her face — the practiced one she used when Monu scbangd his knee or when guests asked too many questions.
“Oh… achha. Kab gaye?”
“Thodi der pehle hi. Bike ki awaaz aayi thi.”
She nodded slowly, patting his head.
“Theek hai beta. Ab cake rakhte hain fridge mein, Papa ke liye. Raat ko saath mein khaayenge.”
Monu pouted for a second but went back to his cars.
Divya stood up. Walked to the kitchen doorway. Her eyes drifted — almost against her will — toward the back path visible through the small window. The bathroom door was now closed. The pile of clothes was gone (she’d gathered them hastily after her bath). Nothing looked out of place.
But the knot in her stomach tightened.
*Did he see?*
The question bloomed in her mind like ink in water.
Did Ranjith come to the kitchen for water like he always did? Did he glance out the window? Did he walk down the back path? Did he hear… anything?
Her bangles had clinked so loudly. Her shouts — God, her shouts — had echoed off the tiles. And Beedaa… he hadn’t been quiet either. The wet sounds. The low growls. The final groan when he…
She pressed a hand to her lower belly unconsciously — still feeling the faint warmth, the slight ache, the slick reminder that hadn’t fully washed away even after the cold shower.
Confusion swirled.
*If he heard… why didn’t he come in? Why didn’t he shout? Why did he just… leave?*
Part of her felt relief — sharp, guilty relief.
Part of her felt terror — what if he knew?
She shook her head hard, as if to dislodge the thought.
*No. He didn’t see. He couldn’t have. He was in a hurry. Emergency. That’s all.*
She turned back to the stove. The dal was still warm. Rotis were ready under the cover. Sabzi waited in the pan. She switched on the gas, stirred mechanically, added a pinch of salt she didn’t need — anything to keep her hands busy, her mind occupied.
Monu ran in after a while, hugging her leg.
“Mummy, cake abhi khaayenge?”
She bent, kissed his forehead — the normal mother gesture that grounded her.
“Haan beta. Thoda wait karo. Papa ke liye bhi rakha hai.”
She served him a small plate — roti, dal, sabzi — and watched him eat happily, chattering about scho.ol.
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