Chapter 7: Arjun’s Discovery

After the meal and chai, Arjun took the initiative to ask to visit my old room.

He stood, dusting imaginary crumbs from his kurta, and smiled at Ma. “Aunty, may I show Riya her old room? She’s missed it.”

For a married couple, this was not improper.

The elders nodded approvingly. “Of course, beta, go. Let her relive some old memories,” Ma said, her voice soft.

With Ma’s permission, Tulsi eagerly led Arjun through the tiled corridors to my room.

She walked ahead, her saree rustling against the floor. Arjun followed, his steps slow, his gaze thoughtful.

The room was very clean; Ma had arranged for people to tidy it and care for the flowers every day.

Fresh flowers adorned the vase on the table. The bedsheets were crisp, the curtains freshly laundered. My old books lined the shelves, untouched.

Even though the owner was gone, the place was still warm, everything spotless.

The walls bore the faint scent of talcum powder and sandalwood. My favourite cushion sat by the window, where I had spent so many afternoons reading.

“I remember there was a tulsi plant in your balcony. Why is it gone now?” Arjun looked around and suddenly asked.

He peered out the window, frowning. The old brass pot sat empty on the ledge, its earth dry and cracked.

I shuddered, instantly shaken from my sadness, staring intently at Tulsi.

A chill ran through me. I waited, breathless, for her response.

But she remained calm, smiling. “It’s strange. It grew well for years, but right before the wedding, it suddenly dried up.”

Her voice was steady, her smile innocent. She shrugged as if it was of no consequence.

“Dried up?” Arjun seemed puzzled.

He tapped the rim of the pot, running his fingers through the dry soil. His brows knitted together.

“Yes, I thought, gone is gone—it’s just a plant, nothing to miss.”

She brushed a speck of dust from the windowsill, turning away. Her words were casual, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes.

Before Arjun could ask more, she dragged him inside.

She looped her arm through his, pulling him toward the bed. Her laughter rang out, light and carefree.

I didn’t know Arjun well, but I knew he was clever, despite his fierce reputation.

He watched everything, noticed every detail, even the smallest change. I had seen him solve the tiniest mysteries around the house, never missing a clue.

He wouldn’t ask about the tulsi plant for no reason.

His question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. I wondered what he suspected.

Maybe, he really had guessed something.

I felt a flicker of hope—a tiny flame in the darkness.

But how could that be?

The evidence was gone, the memories erased. Tulsi was perfect in every way.

Even my closest family hadn’t seen through Tulsi’s transformation—how could Arjun?

I wavered between hope and despair. If anyone could solve this puzzle, perhaps it was him.

Inside, the servants had cleaned thoroughly—not a speck of dust remained.

The room gleamed, every surface polished, every object in its place. The air was cool and fragrant.

As soon as you entered, a familiar sandalwood agarbatti scent greeted you.

I breathed in deeply, longing for the comfort of old routines. The smell was both a balm and a wound.

But the owner of the room was long gone.

The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed, but I was no longer its rightful inhabitant.

Tulsi was about to get intimate with Arjun when Ma called her away.

She pouted, but obeyed, smoothing her saree and hurrying to Ma’s side. Arjun lingered, his eyes scanning the room.

I didn’t follow.

I stayed behind, watching him, my heart pounding in my chest.

Nor did Arjun.

He moved quietly, almost cat-like, his gaze sharp and searching.

After Tulsi left, Arjun suddenly leaped onto the loft, then quickly dropped down.

He climbed the ladder with practiced ease, checking the hidden nooks and crannies. His movements were quick, purposeful.

Opening his palm, a glass bead lay quietly in his hand.

He studied it, turning it over in his fingers. Its surface caught the light, revealing a faint crack along one side.

Exactly the same as the one on Tulsi’s necklace.

The resemblance was uncanny—same size, same sheen, but missing from the chain around her neck.

It was the one she had removed to store my eyeball.

I remembered the night she strung my eye onto the chain, hiding the original bead away. My spirit trembled, realising what this meant.

Tulsi claimed she lost it, but had actually hidden it in a crack in the loft.

She was clever, covering her tracks. But Arjun had found her secret, exposing the first crack in her perfect facade.

When I looked at Arjun again, his expression was unchanged, but the hand holding the glass bead trembled slightly.

His face was still, but a storm raged in his eyes. The bead shone in his palm, a silent witness to everything that had been stolen from me.