Chapter 5: Nightfall and the Visitor

I could only return home, feeling dejected. My feet dragged against the ground, every step heavier than the last. Even the house seemed colder, darker, as if mourning along with us.

As soon as I reached the door, my mother came out to meet me, her face tense with worry. "Did that old man say anything to you, or give you anything?"

Her eyes were sharp, searching my face for any clue. Her suspicion cut through me, making me clutch the locket tighter inside my pocket. I averted my gaze, fiddling with the edge of my pocket, my fingers tracing the outline of the locket through the fabric.

I touched the gold locket in my pocket and replied, "No."

I forced a smile, trying to sound casual, but I could tell from the way she looked at me that she didn’t believe a word.

My mother clearly didn’t believe me and asked again, but I insisted there was nothing. Only then did she seem relieved, telling me to wash up and eat.

She hovered near the kitchen, watching as I splashed water on my face and sat at the table. The smell of dal floated in the air, but everything tasted like sawdust. Even the familiar clatter of the pressure cooker did nothing to lighten the gloom.

That night, I wanted to keep vigil for my bhabhi, but my mother pushed me to my room to sleep.

She patted my back, voice softer than usual. "Tired lag raha hai tu. Ja, so ja. Raat lambi hai, kal dekh lena."

"You’ve had a long day. Go to sleep first. The vigil lasts three days; you can keep watch tomorrow."

The words sounded reasonable enough, but something in her eyes—fear, or maybe guilt—made me uneasy. I shuffled to my room, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back.

After she said that, sleepiness washed over me like a tide. I didn’t insist any longer, nodded, and went to bed.

The bed felt too big, the sheets too cold. Outside, the stray dogs had finally fallen silent. I tried to say a silent prayer for bhabhi, but the words got stuck in my throat.