25-05-2026, 02:18 PM
Chapter 29— Another Woman in Her Home
By the time Shruthi left office, her head felt unbearably heavy.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The entire day had drained her in ways work pressure never could.
Karthik’s face. His apology. His frustration. That final look before he walked away.
Everything kept replaying in fragments.
And what disturbed her most was not anger anymore.
It was disappointment.
Deep disappointment.
Because some part of her genuinely missed the version of friendship she thought they had.
Now every memory felt contaminated by doubt.
---
Outside, Chennai traffic crawled through the evening rain while Shruthi leaned back in the cab seat staring blankly through the window.
Usually she checked messages during the ride.
Today she didn’t even touch her phone.
Until finally it buzzed again.
Lokesh.
---
“Reached?”
“On the way.”
“You ate anything?”
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
“Don’t buy dinner.”
She frowned slightly.
“Why?”
“Laila cooked.”
Shruthi’s eyes lifted slowly from the screen.
---
A strange feeling moved quietly through her chest.
Not immediate anger.
Something smaller.
Sharper.
She typed back:
What cooked?
Reply came almost instantly.
Biryani.
Another message followed.
Hasini forced full friendship with her today.
And then a laughing emoji.
Normally, Shruthi would have smiled.
Today, she didn’t.
---
When she finally reached the apartment building, the corridor itself smelled of spices.
Rich aroma. Fried onions. Ghee. Pepper. Slow-cooked meat.
Home smell.
Comfort smell.
But tonight, it unsettled her.
---
Before she could even ring the bell properly, the door opened.
Hasini came running first.
“MAMMA!”
The child crashed into her legs excitedly.
“You know what aunty made?”
Shruthi forced a smile.
“What?”
“Beef biryani!”
The excitement on Hasini’s face made it impossible to react honestly.
---
Inside, the apartment felt unusually alive.
Laughter from the kitchen.
Cartoons playing somewhere faintly.
Steel vessels clinking.
And from the dining area, Laila emerged carrying a bowl casually as if she belonged there naturally.
“You came!” she said warmly.
Shruthi smiled politely.
“Hm.”
“You’re late. Sit. Food is still hot.”
---
Laila looked comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Loose house clothes. Hair tied messily. No formality.
Like someone who had spent hours inside the home already.
And suddenly Shruthi became painfully aware that another woman had occupied the emotional space she herself had been too exhausted to hold recently.
---
Lokesh walked out from Hasini’s room carrying folded uniforms.
“You came?”
“Hm.”
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
His tone softened slightly.
“Eat first.”
Simple concern.
Normal concern.
Yet somehow even that irritated her tonight.
Because all day she had been emotionally collapsing alone while here—
inside this apartment—
life had apparently continued warmly without her.
---
Hasini immediately grabbed Shruthi’s hand excitedly.
“Mamma! We played carrom! And aunty taught me new game!”
Laila laughed from the kitchen.
“She cheats already. Very talented child.”
“That is your influence,” Lokesh replied casually.
Laila gasped dramatically.
“Excuse me.”
And both of them laughed.
---
Shruthi stood there quietly removing her sandals.
Watching.
Listening.
Feeling strangely displaced inside her own house.
---
A few minutes later everyone sat around the dining table.
Steam rose warmly from the biryani vessel.
The smell genuinely was incredible.
Laila served naturally without hesitation.
“Take more,” she told Lokesh.
“I already took.”
“That’s not proper quantity.”
“I’m not preparing for army.”
“You look weak.”
“Now you sound like Tamil mothers.”
Hasini giggled loudly.
---
Shruthi watched the exchange silently.
Not flirtatious.
Not inappropriate.
That almost made it worse.
Because this was comfort.
Easy comfort.
Domestic comfort.
---
Laila finally looked at Shruthi.
“You eat beef, right?”
Shruthi nodded once.
“Hm.”
“I wasn’t sure. Otherwise I’d have made chicken.”
“No… it’s fine.”
Laila smiled warmly again and served her too.
---
For a few moments only normal dining sounds filled the room.
Plates. Spoons. Hasini talking nonstop.
Then Hasini suddenly announced proudly:
“Aunty stayed with me full evening.”
Laila immediately pointed at the child dramatically.
“Because your father abandoned me with homework responsibilities.”
Lokesh sighed.
“She made me draw elephant six times.”
“Because your elephant looked like potato.”
That made Hasini burst into uncontrollable laughter again.
Even Shruthi smiled slightly despite herself.
---
And that irritated her even more internally.
Because she wanted a reason to dislike this situation clearly.
But there wasn’t one.
Laila had done nothing wrong.
Nothing.
She helped with Hasini. Cooked for them. Stayed back so the child wouldn’t feel lonely. Spoke warmly. Behaved respectfully.
Everything she did came from kindness.
Which made Shruthi’s discomfort feel uglier.
Smaller.
More selfish.
---
As dinner continued, Shruthi slowly realized something painful.
In one single evening, Laila had entered spaces Shruthi herself had emotionally withdrawn from over the past few months.
Not intentionally.
Circumstantially.
Still, the effect remained.
---
After dinner, Hasini refused to leave Laila’s side.
“No! Aunty story!”
Laila laughed tiredly.
“One story only.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Three.”
Lokesh leaned against the wall smiling faintly while watching them argue.
And suddenly Shruthi couldn’t bear the scene anymore.
Not because anything inappropriate existed.
Because it looked peaceful.
Natural.
Like the kind of warmth she herself had been too emotionally exhausted to create lately.
---
She quietly walked toward the balcony alone.
Rainwater dripped steadily from neighboring terraces.
The city lights blurred softly beyond apartment buildings.
Behind her, she could still hear: Hasini laughing, Laila arguing dramatically, Lokesh occasionally responding.
A complete evening.
Without her.
---
A few minutes later, Lokesh stepped onto the balcony quietly.
“You okay?”
Shruthi nodded immediately.
“Hm.”
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Because after years of marriage, he knew her silences now.
Especially the dangerous ones.
---
“You’re upset,” he said gently.
“No.”
“Shruthi.”
She exhaled sharply.
Then finally spoke without looking at him.
“I know she didn’t do anything wrong.”
Lokesh stayed quiet.
“That’s what’s making me feel worse.”
---
Rain continued softly outside.
“She helped Hasini. Cooked for us. Took care of everything.”
She laughed bitterly under her breath.
“And somehow I still can’t tolerate how comfortable this all feels.”
Lokesh looked at her carefully now.
Not judgmental.
Just understanding.
---
“You had a horrible day,” he said softly.
“That’s not excuse.”
“No. But it’s reason.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Today I spent entire day feeling humiliated.”
Her voice lowered further now.
“Then I come home and see another woman giving my daughter comfort, feeding my husband, filling the house with warmth…”
She stopped.
Ashamed immediately after saying it aloud.
---
Lokesh understood now.
Completely.
This wasn’t jealousy in the cheap sense.
This was emotional exhaustion colliding with insecurity.
---
“She’s just helping,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“And nothing changes what this house is.”
Shruthi looked at him finally then.
Tired. Conflicted. Emotionally raw.
And somewhere deep inside her, another uncomfortable realization slowly formed:
After everything she went through with Karthik—
she no longer knew how to feel secure around emotional closeness anymore.
Not even harmless ones.
By the time Shruthi left office, her head felt unbearably heavy.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The entire day had drained her in ways work pressure never could.
Karthik’s face. His apology. His frustration. That final look before he walked away.
Everything kept replaying in fragments.
And what disturbed her most was not anger anymore.
It was disappointment.
Deep disappointment.
Because some part of her genuinely missed the version of friendship she thought they had.
Now every memory felt contaminated by doubt.
---
Outside, Chennai traffic crawled through the evening rain while Shruthi leaned back in the cab seat staring blankly through the window.
Usually she checked messages during the ride.
Today she didn’t even touch her phone.
Until finally it buzzed again.
Lokesh.
---
“Reached?”
“On the way.”
“You ate anything?”
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
“Don’t buy dinner.”
She frowned slightly.
“Why?”
“Laila cooked.”
Shruthi’s eyes lifted slowly from the screen.
---
A strange feeling moved quietly through her chest.
Not immediate anger.
Something smaller.
Sharper.
She typed back:
What cooked?
Reply came almost instantly.
Biryani.
Another message followed.
Hasini forced full friendship with her today.
And then a laughing emoji.
Normally, Shruthi would have smiled.
Today, she didn’t.
---
When she finally reached the apartment building, the corridor itself smelled of spices.
Rich aroma. Fried onions. Ghee. Pepper. Slow-cooked meat.
Home smell.
Comfort smell.
But tonight, it unsettled her.
---
Before she could even ring the bell properly, the door opened.
Hasini came running first.
“MAMMA!”
The child crashed into her legs excitedly.
“You know what aunty made?”
Shruthi forced a smile.
“What?”
“Beef biryani!”
The excitement on Hasini’s face made it impossible to react honestly.
---
Inside, the apartment felt unusually alive.
Laughter from the kitchen.
Cartoons playing somewhere faintly.
Steel vessels clinking.
And from the dining area, Laila emerged carrying a bowl casually as if she belonged there naturally.
“You came!” she said warmly.
Shruthi smiled politely.
“Hm.”
“You’re late. Sit. Food is still hot.”
---
Laila looked comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Loose house clothes. Hair tied messily. No formality.
Like someone who had spent hours inside the home already.
And suddenly Shruthi became painfully aware that another woman had occupied the emotional space she herself had been too exhausted to hold recently.
---
Lokesh walked out from Hasini’s room carrying folded uniforms.
“You came?”
“Hm.”
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
His tone softened slightly.
“Eat first.”
Simple concern.
Normal concern.
Yet somehow even that irritated her tonight.
Because all day she had been emotionally collapsing alone while here—
inside this apartment—
life had apparently continued warmly without her.
---
Hasini immediately grabbed Shruthi’s hand excitedly.
“Mamma! We played carrom! And aunty taught me new game!”
Laila laughed from the kitchen.
“She cheats already. Very talented child.”
“That is your influence,” Lokesh replied casually.
Laila gasped dramatically.
“Excuse me.”
And both of them laughed.
---
Shruthi stood there quietly removing her sandals.
Watching.
Listening.
Feeling strangely displaced inside her own house.
---
A few minutes later everyone sat around the dining table.
Steam rose warmly from the biryani vessel.
The smell genuinely was incredible.
Laila served naturally without hesitation.
“Take more,” she told Lokesh.
“I already took.”
“That’s not proper quantity.”
“I’m not preparing for army.”
“You look weak.”
“Now you sound like Tamil mothers.”
Hasini giggled loudly.
---
Shruthi watched the exchange silently.
Not flirtatious.
Not inappropriate.
That almost made it worse.
Because this was comfort.
Easy comfort.
Domestic comfort.
---
Laila finally looked at Shruthi.
“You eat beef, right?”
Shruthi nodded once.
“Hm.”
“I wasn’t sure. Otherwise I’d have made chicken.”
“No… it’s fine.”
Laila smiled warmly again and served her too.
---
For a few moments only normal dining sounds filled the room.
Plates. Spoons. Hasini talking nonstop.
Then Hasini suddenly announced proudly:
“Aunty stayed with me full evening.”
Laila immediately pointed at the child dramatically.
“Because your father abandoned me with homework responsibilities.”
Lokesh sighed.
“She made me draw elephant six times.”
“Because your elephant looked like potato.”
That made Hasini burst into uncontrollable laughter again.
Even Shruthi smiled slightly despite herself.
---
And that irritated her even more internally.
Because she wanted a reason to dislike this situation clearly.
But there wasn’t one.
Laila had done nothing wrong.
Nothing.
She helped with Hasini. Cooked for them. Stayed back so the child wouldn’t feel lonely. Spoke warmly. Behaved respectfully.
Everything she did came from kindness.
Which made Shruthi’s discomfort feel uglier.
Smaller.
More selfish.
---
As dinner continued, Shruthi slowly realized something painful.
In one single evening, Laila had entered spaces Shruthi herself had emotionally withdrawn from over the past few months.
Not intentionally.
Circumstantially.
Still, the effect remained.
---
After dinner, Hasini refused to leave Laila’s side.
“No! Aunty story!”
Laila laughed tiredly.
“One story only.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Three.”
Lokesh leaned against the wall smiling faintly while watching them argue.
And suddenly Shruthi couldn’t bear the scene anymore.
Not because anything inappropriate existed.
Because it looked peaceful.
Natural.
Like the kind of warmth she herself had been too emotionally exhausted to create lately.
---
She quietly walked toward the balcony alone.
Rainwater dripped steadily from neighboring terraces.
The city lights blurred softly beyond apartment buildings.
Behind her, she could still hear: Hasini laughing, Laila arguing dramatically, Lokesh occasionally responding.
A complete evening.
Without her.
---
A few minutes later, Lokesh stepped onto the balcony quietly.
“You okay?”
Shruthi nodded immediately.
“Hm.”
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Because after years of marriage, he knew her silences now.
Especially the dangerous ones.
---
“You’re upset,” he said gently.
“No.”
“Shruthi.”
She exhaled sharply.
Then finally spoke without looking at him.
“I know she didn’t do anything wrong.”
Lokesh stayed quiet.
“That’s what’s making me feel worse.”
---
Rain continued softly outside.
“She helped Hasini. Cooked for us. Took care of everything.”
She laughed bitterly under her breath.
“And somehow I still can’t tolerate how comfortable this all feels.”
Lokesh looked at her carefully now.
Not judgmental.
Just understanding.
---
“You had a horrible day,” he said softly.
“That’s not excuse.”
“No. But it’s reason.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Today I spent entire day feeling humiliated.”
Her voice lowered further now.
“Then I come home and see another woman giving my daughter comfort, feeding my husband, filling the house with warmth…”
She stopped.
Ashamed immediately after saying it aloud.
---
Lokesh understood now.
Completely.
This wasn’t jealousy in the cheap sense.
This was emotional exhaustion colliding with insecurity.
---
“She’s just helping,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“And nothing changes what this house is.”
Shruthi looked at him finally then.
Tired. Conflicted. Emotionally raw.
And somewhere deep inside her, another uncomfortable realization slowly formed:
After everything she went through with Karthik—
she no longer knew how to feel secure around emotional closeness anymore.
Not even harmless ones.
-Pickup, drop, escape.
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