Chapter 5: Grinding Stones

"Dad."

Kabir suddenly stood up and protested loudly:

"How can that be? How can Bhabhi take the punishment?"

His voice was sharp, trembling with indignation. My heart twisted a little at his concern.

Father-in-law sighed, looking troubled.

"I swore I wouldn't break the family rules. Arjun has to play golf with clients tomorrow, Kabir has experiments every day, and only you, the junior, are free. Riya, what do you think?"

I slowly looked up.

I smiled gently at Father-in-law and replied softly:

"It's fine, Dad."

My words were soft, but my resolve was firm. Years of learning to swallow my pride had made my voice quiet, but not weak.

Father-in-law nodded in satisfaction.

"You're a good child, always putting others at ease. I was right about you from the start."

His praise was warm, and in another life, it might have meant the world.

……

I was grinding herbs alone in the basement when Kabir suddenly appeared at the door, eyes heavy, holding a bowl of steaming maggi.

The basement was musty, the grinding wheel old and worn. My arms ached, but I kept going, the sound of the stone wheel turning almost meditative. Kabir’s sudden appearance startled me.

I smiled at him, "Kabir, haven't you gone to bed yet?"

He didn't answer.

He set the bowl on the table, lowered his eyes, and took the handle from me, silently pushing it.

I froze, unsure what to do.

He seemed a bit angry, his handsome face clouded with frustration.

After a while, he spoke in a low, tense voice:

"Bhabhi, are you really made of mitti? How can someone be so quiet, so... ziddi? Just say no once, na. Who can really force you?"

His words were soft, but the anger in them was real. In that dim, herb-scented room, I almost felt like a little girl again, scolded for something beyond her control.

"Kabir, go, please. Dad will be angry if he finds out." I forced a smile and tried to take back the handle.

He wouldn't let go, still pushing it hard.

I grew anxious.

"You're not helping me, you're hurting me! Don't you remember last time? Just because you helped me and Dad found out, I got two extra punishments."

By the end, my voice was choked with tears.

My vision blurred, and the words caught in my throat, thick as jaggery. I didn’t want to cry—not here, not now.

Kabir stopped, his voice softening:

"Bhabhi, Dad wanted you as his daughter-in-law back then only because I was still young, so he had my brother marry you. Otherwise, otherwise..."

He stared at me.

My face flushed. I stammered, "What nonsense are you saying? Go, quickly, or someone really will find out."

He sighed deeply.

"Bhabhi, the housekeeper said you haven't eaten much today. I made that bowl of maggi myself—remember to eat it."

The smell of instant masala noodles reminded her of hostel days—simple comforts, before everything became so complicated.

With that, he turned and strode away.

His footsteps echoed up the stairs, leaving me alone with the silent wheel and the lonely ache in my heart. The maggi's steam curled in the air, a small comfort in the coldness of the basement.