Chapter 4: Rain at the Gate

The courtyard was quiet, the verandas shadowed in the first heat of summer. Three years had slipped by since Kabir and I married—three years of routine, silence, and the slow turning of the seasons.

Lately, Kabir spent more and more time at home, which should have made me happy, but only left me restless.

One evening, the sky split open with rain. Someone hammered at the heavy wooden gate.

A woman, drenched to the bone, stood shivering in the downpour.

The watchman hurried to inform us. Kabir’s face didn’t flicker at all. He replied, "No visitors today."

But after the watchman left, Kabir’s book stayed open to the same page for ages. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and the tension of something unspoken.

I caught the maid’s eye, and soon enough, Ananya was led in.

Water dripped from her hair, her little face pale as milk, trembling from the cold.

Before Kabir could speak, she burst out, "I regret it!"

Kabir’s book slipped from his hands, landing with a soft thud. He froze, his eyes stormy and wild.

"Kabir, do you still want me?"

A gust of wind rattled the windows, sending the curtain flying. The lamp guttered and went out.

Kabir’s head snapped up, staring at her—

But before he could answer, I quietly stepped out, gently closing the door behind me.

The maid caught the smile tugging at my lips and asked, "Madam, aren’t you worried about leaving them alone?"

I just smiled at the rain-washed sky, where the clouds were already breaking. "What I fear is nothing happening between them," I said softly.

I went to sleep in another room.

But before long, someone pushed open the door.

Kabir stood there, his white kurta wet on one side. I could picture Ananya clinging to him, crying in the lamplight.

He entered, tucking the blanket around me. His eyes, for once, held something soft.

"I’ve already had her sent away."

Why hadn’t he kept her?

"She only came because Yashvardhan kept a mistress. I was just her backup."

So that’s how it was.

I sighed, "Husband, you really are pitiful!"

Kabir gazed at me, and a smile flickered at the edge of his lips for the first time in years.

"It’s alright. Don’t I still have you?"

My eyelid twitched, and I nearly laughed aloud. His words echoed in the silence, colder than the marble floor beneath my feet. The old ceiling fan above us creaked, as if mocking the lot fate had handed both of us.