Chapter 5: Breaking the Engagement

“Ananya, that shameless girl, carried Kabir Joshi home and stayed in his house for half an hour before coming out.”

My mother-in-law’s voice rang out, clear as a bell. She wanted everyone to know, to remember.

“I saw it with my own eyes! When Ananya came out, she was soaked, her clothes clinging to her body—oh, it was indecent!”

She made a show of covering her eyes, as if she were scandalised. The women in the crowd exchanged knowing glances.

“Since she was touched and held by Kabir, she’s no longer a virgin.”

The words stung, but I refused to let her see me cry. I stood tall, fists clenched at my sides.

“Our Sharma family doesn’t want shoes that the crippled Kabir has already worn!”

Her words were cruel, meant to shame me and Kabir both. Some people looked away, embarrassed by her harshness.

The courtyard was deathly silent.

No one dared to speak. The air crackled with tension, as if a storm was about to break.

My mother opened her mouth, her voice hoarse and dry.

She struggled to find the words, her throat tight with emotion. I could see her pain, her helplessness.

“You’re lying. My Ananya isn’t that kind of person.”

Her voice shook, but she refused to back down. She glared at my mother-in-law, daring her to continue.

Seeing my mother falter, my mother-in-law grew even more arrogant.

She straightened, her eyes gleaming with triumph. She knew she had the upper hand now.

“Pah!”

She spat on the ground, her contempt clear for all to see. The crowd recoiled, disgusted.

She spat, glaring at me with utter contempt.

Her gaze bored into me, daring me to deny her accusations. I held my head high, refusing to let her win.

“A man and a woman alone, pressed together the whole way. No matter what you say, your daughter isn’t clean.”

She played to the crowd, feeding their doubts and suspicions. I could feel their eyes on me, their judgement weighing me down.

“I heard people say, to save a drowning person, you have to give mouth-to-mouth.”

Her voice dripped with insinuation. Some people tittered, others gasped in shock. The damage was done.

“Who knows how Ananya saved the crippled Kabir? I don’t want such a filthy woman as a daughter-in-law.”

She crossed her arms, daring anyone to disagree. Her words echoed off the walls, impossible to ignore.

Mother broke down, rushing forward to fight my mother-in-law.

Amma’s grief turned to rage. She lunged at my mother-in-law, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face.

“Shut up! You shut up!”

Her voice cracked, but her spirit did not. The other women held her back, afraid she might do something reckless.

“I won’t allow you to talk about my daughter that way!”

She glared at my mother-in-law, defiant. I had never been prouder of her.

I pulled her back, my face pale.

My hands trembled, but I stood my ground. The world swayed around me, but I refused to fall.

“Ma, let’s break off the engagement.”

My words were quiet, but they carried. The crowd murmured, some in sympathy, others in shock.

In this world, women face so much injustice.

The rules were always against us—no matter how good we were, one rumour could ruin everything.

Reputation and chastity are shackles that bind us for life.

Our worth measured in whispers, our freedom crushed under the weight of family honour. I had seen it happen to others, never thought it would happen to me.

All I did was save someone.

A simple act of kindness twisted into a crime. My heart ached at the unfairness of it all.

But others won’t see it that way—they’ll believe my mother-in-law’s words and think the worst.

Gossip spreads like wildfire in a village. Even those who knew me would start to doubt.

From today on, rumours about me and Kabir will spread everywhere.

I could already hear the whispers—at the well, in the market, outside the temple. My life would never be the same.

And the only way to silence those rumours is for me to marry Kabir.

There was no other way to protect my family’s honour. Sacrifice was expected, demanded.

Otherwise, my parents will be shamed because of me, and my female cousins will be gossiped about.

The price of my reputation was paid by everyone I loved. I could not let that happen.

I can’t be the one to disgrace the Singh family.

I swallowed my tears, steeling myself for what lay ahead. If I had to bear this burden, so be it.

“Saving a life is more virtuous than building a temple.”

Panditji’s voice cut through the tension, lending authority to my defence. People nodded, recalling the old saying.

“Ananya is a good girl. Kamala Sharma, after breaking the engagement, you must not slander her again.”

His words were a warning, a promise. Even my mother-in-law hesitated, just for a moment.

“If I find out you’re spreading rumours about the Singh family, I won’t let you off.”

The threat was real—everyone knew he had the power to make life difficult for troublemakers.

The village head was also a Singh, so he naturally stood on our side.

His presence lent weight to our cause. The crowd shifted, the mood turning in our favour.

Under his insistence, my mother-in-law got nothing extra.

She grumbled, but in the end, she had no choice. Justice, for once, was on our side.

My family returned the shagun as it was, and Rohan and I each took back the keepsakes we had exchanged.

The gifts were repacked, the sweets returned, the jewellery placed in velvet boxes. It felt like a funeral—silent, somber, final.

Looking at Rohan’s tightly pressed lips, my heart ached with pain.

His face was a mask—expressionless, unreadable. I searched his eyes for some sign, but found only distance.

This man had been my husband all my life.

I remembered the way he used to smile at me, the warmth in his eyes when we were young. That man was gone now.

We were engaged when I was fifteen—I never thought of marrying anyone else.

Every dream I’d ever had, every hope for the future, was tied to him. Now, it all slipped through my fingers.

I served him dutifully for my whole life.

Cooking, cleaning, caring for his mother—every day was a test, and I tried never to fail. Yet, it was never enough.

I loved him, I resented him, but I never thought of leaving him.

My feelings were complicated—a mix of devotion and bitterness, love and longing. But I could never walk away.

After today, we would be strangers.

The thought was unbearable, but I forced myself to accept it. There was no other way.

I would once again spend my life with a man I’d only met a few times.

Fate had written a new chapter, one I hadn’t asked for. I could only hope it would be kinder than the last.

Obey your father at home, your husband after marriage—such are the rules.

Every woman in the village knew this truth. Our lives were not our own.

Parents’ orders, the matchmaker’s words.

We were pawns in a game played by others. Our happiness was never the priority.

As a woman, I never had a choice.

The realisation stung, but I held my head high. I would survive, as I always had.

“Ananya.”

Rohan called out to me, his voice hesitant. The crowd fell silent, waiting to hear what he would say.

Rohan called out to me, his expression complicated, with a hint of familiarity.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or longing. My heart twisted, unsure of what to feel.

“For the sake of—well, for old times’ sake, if you ever have difficulties, you can come to me.”

His words were awkward, but sincere. He would help me, just once—no more, no less.

“I’ll help you once, but only once.”

He drew a line, clear and unbreakable. I nodded, understanding the message.

“From now on, take care of yourself.”

The finality in his tone was unmistakable. Whatever we once had was over.

I pressed my nails into my palm, swallowing the words I wanted to hurl at him. This, too, was a kind of widowhood. I looked up suddenly, staring at him, a storm raging in my eyes.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers. But I stayed silent, my pride refusing to let me beg.

So, it wasn’t just my mother-in-law and me who had been reborn.

The truth hit me like a slap. Was everyone being given a second chance—everyone except me?

So, Rohan no longer wanted me either.

The pain was sharp, but I refused to let him see it. I would move on, just as he had.