Romance

The wedding date had not been fixed yet, but Simi could feel it settling into the house the way monsoon humidity does — silently, everywhere, impossible to escape.

Her father had mentioned the name twice now. Arvind. Son of some business family in Cuttack, educated abroad, good family, good money — all the words her father used that meant the conversation was already over before it began. Her mother had started talking about silk sarees. Her aunt from Puri had already called twice.

Raanu almost didn’t make it to the bed that night.

She had been sitting on the floor of her hostel room for an hour — back against the wall, knees pulled in, staring at the ceiling fan that made a soft ticking sound on every third rotation. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend. The silence was the kind that does not comfort you. It just shows you how much space a person takes up even when they are not there.

Ritu stood in front of the mirror, her reflection revealing a woman who had lost a part of herself. The soft, golden morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the faint dark circles under her eyes. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, contemplating the restless nights spent worrying about her family, her husband, Ramesh Babu, who wore his bank official badge as a cloak of authority, leaving hardly any room for her voice.