Chapter 2: Shadows and Status

When I stood up to leave, the ridicule behind me hadn't stopped.

Their voices followed me like shadows, clinging and whispering even as I moved away. The crystal chandelier above shimmered, throwing patterns on the walls, but nothing brightened the coldness at my back.

"She actually dares to say she won't give him a way out—how ridiculous."

"Exactly, an orphan who didn't even go to college, married into the Mehra family, and her stomach hasn't shown any sign in five years. She still dreams of not giving Mr. Mehra a way out?"

"How is that any different from being thrown out? Mr. Mehra hasn't spared her any dignity in public. If Dadaji Mehra didn't care so much about appearances, she would've been kicked out ages ago."

"She only lasted this long by bowing and scraping. Otherwise, why call her a clay idol—soft and easy to mould?"

There was no shame in their tone. They weren't the least bit afraid I'd overhear.

Even though this was a Mehra family party.

Even though I was the eldest daughter-in-law of the Mehra family.

Even though their husbands all depended on my husband's favour.

But they still felt their status was above mine.

Because everyone knew:

My husband, Arjun Mehra, did not love me.

Their words burned like hot oil, but I pretended not to hear, my spine straight, sari pallu neatly pinned as the Mehra family's eldest daughter-in-law, smiling politely at every guest. The air in the hall was thick with the scent of motichoor laddus and expensive perfume.

Today was the groundbreaking ceremony for Mehra Pharmaceuticals' new factory. Many old clients and partners had come.

My father-in-law, Rajeev Mehra, had already made it clear:

The Mehra family's number one rule is to maintain appearances. Anyone who brings shame to the family will be punished according to family rules.

Yes, even in the 21st century, the powerful Mehra family in Lucknow still has its own strict internal rules.

At that moment, a wave of enthusiastic greetings sounded at the entrance.

My husband, Arjun Mehra, arrived.

At his side was his assistant, Neha Sinha.

The two of them wore matching white formal suits, each with a celebratory rose pinned to their chest.

They entered together under everyone's gaze—

Like a newlywed couple walking into a wedding hall.

Even the photographers, hired for the event, paused and took extra photos, as if sensing something newsworthy. In the far corner, I caught the gardener’s boy peeking in, eyes wide at the spectacle.

"Mr. Mehra."

"Ms. Sinha."

Everyone greeted them, their tones warm and respectful.

"Neha ji, long time no see!"

The wives gathered nearby all stood up, smiling and waving to her.

Neha Sinha was poised and gracious, smiling and nodding in response.

Her diamond earrings flashed as she moved, and her posture was straight, confident, almost queenly. The others fluttered around her, eager for a moment of her attention.

When she reached me, she stopped and addressed me politely:

"Mrs. Mehra, I'm sorry. Mr. Mehra was late because he was speaking with the city officials. It's my fault as his assistant for not reminding him on time. You must have worked hard."

I quickly shook my head, smiling, "No, no, your work is important. You two have worked much harder than I have. Are you hungry? I can have someone bring you something to eat."

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, voice barely steady, hoping her smile would hide the tremor in her hands.

"We've already eaten, there's no need to trouble you."

Neha Sinha declined gracefully, then as if remembering something, added:

"Oh, there is one thing... I parked in a rush and blocked the exit. I don't trust the drivers to move my car. Could I trouble you to help me park it?"

She looked at me with a warm, polite smile.

The request was clear, wrapped in sugar, but meant to sting. The women around us fell silent, waiting for my reaction, eyes gleaming with interest.