Nandini's POV
Later that evening, the doorbell rang twice.
The air already smelled of jasmine and fried mathri. Few guests had arrived. Papa's friend, Mahesh uncle, and his wife, Sunita aunty.
I didn't know this was what Adi bhaiya and Anant were talking about in hushed tones near the staircase earlier.

Mamma came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the pallu. She served them water in steel glasses and a plate of kaju barfi.
The sweets sweated a little in the heat. Papa was already sitting on the sofa, his back straight, one hand resting on his knee.
Maa looked at us from the kitchen doorway and gave a small nod.

"Jao, namaste karo," she said quietly. We walked in. My chappals made a soft sound on the marble floor.
 ["Go, greet them."]
Their eyes fell on me first. Mahesh uncle frowned, setting his glass down.
Mahesh uncle: "Dev ye kaun hai? Bataya nahi tune guest aaye hai tere ghar pe."
["Dev, who is this? You didn't tell us you have guests at your house."]

Papa's eyes flicked to Maa for half a second. She pressed her lips together into a tight-lipped smile. The kind that doesn't reach the eyes.

And both of them said in unison, their voices a little too loud :
"Ye hamari beti hai."
["She is our daughter."]
Papa cleared his throat and maa continued, picking at the sofa cover.
maa : "Ye abhi aayi hai, yahan nahi rehti thi. Gaon mein rehti thi."

["She has just come. She didn't live here. She lived in the village."]

Sunita aunty tilted her head. Her bangles clinked. She looked me up and down.
Sunita aunty: "Aree chaliye ab jhooth mat boliye. Aapke to do hi bacche the. Aur ye to aap logon ki tarah dikhti bhi nahi. Iske rehne ka dhang aur bolne ka dhang bhi bahut alag hai."
["Oh come on, don't lie now. You only had two children. And she doesn't even look like you people. Her way of living and speaking is also very different."]
My shoulders stiffened. I kept my eyes on the floor. The ceiling fan made a low hum above us. Maa forced a laugh, too bright to be real.
Jaya: "Aree nahi. Wo bachpan se gaon mein hi rahi hai na isiliye. Ab seekh jayegi."

["Oh no, she has lived in the village since childhood that's why. She'll learn now."]

Sunita aunty: "Aree jaiye jhooth mat boliye. Ye aapke kisi rishtedar ki beti hai. Aur waise bhi jab aap yahan hai to aapne ise gaon mein kyun chhoda?"
["Oh please, don't lie. She must be the daughter of some relative of yours. And anyway, when you are here, then why did you leave her in the village?"]
Author's POV
The room went quiet for a second. Only the ticking of the wall clock.
Mahesh glared at Sunita aunty.
His jaw tightened. She caught it, and immediately looked away, pretending to adjust her dupatta. She avoided speaking further.
Jaya 's smile dropped.Jaya: "Jao bachho, apna homework karo."
["Go kids, do your homework."]
They were not allowed to sit with guests. Kyunki bado ke beech mein baccho ka kya kaam. They left.
It would have been better if she had told them to leave earlier. 
At least Nandini wouldn't have to be part of that awkward conversation.

The conversation that once again reminded her, how different shee was from them. She felt their look of alienation on her back as she walked away.
Yes, She was different. Her eating, speaking, her living pattern,  everything was different because She had lived an entirely different life till now. It would take time to adapt.
And if they were so concerned, why did they leave her there in the first place?
 A few days back also Anant was saying how his mother had two cut marks during delivery, so only he and Adi were her real sons. And she.....she was an outsider. Just a charity case.
Jaya saw them but didn't bother to correct him. She didn't even try to stop him.
 In the meantime Nandini tried to avoid her Dadaji as much as possible. She tried to avoid her own thoughts and overthinking.
So she decided to study. She sat at the study table. The tube light flickered once. She opened my maths notebook. The pages were rough. But instead of sums, her hand started counting on the margin.
Days left to het next summer vacation. In a hope that they'd decide to go to the village. To meet her Nani ma.
It was her favourite part of the day, that counting.
Even though every day there was one day less, She would still start counting from the beginning again.
Finally, She exhaled and forced herself to start practicing sums. The pencil lead scratched against the paper.
A week passed.
Nandini's POV
Unit test answer sheets were distributed in class.
Well mine said a perfect 5 out of 50.
In each subject.
Woww. Incredible record 🙃
I was sitting on the bus by the window seat, returning home. The glass was hot against my forehead. Outside, trees blurred past.
Inside, I was thinking.....how do I tell my parents about my scores?
What will their reaction be?
Meanwhile, Shashank noticed my very serious expression. He leaned forward from the side seat. He asked with a genuine smile. The kind that crinkled his eyes.
Shashank: "Hey, how was your day?"
[ "Hey, how was your day?"]
"Pata nahi," I replied. My face was blank. Voice flat.
["Don't know."]
Shashank: "Tumhari bhi answer sheets dikhayi aaj? Kitne marks aaye?"
[ "Were your answer sheets shown today too? How many marks did you get?"]
I scoffed internally and then thought : sabko aaj mere marks hi jaanne hain 🥹😭......My throat felt dry.
Shashank: "Batao mujhe, kya hua?"
["Tell me, what happened?"]
I stared out the window and mumbled.
Me: "5 marks in each subject."
Shashank: "Haha, nice joke."
He waited. I didn't laugh.
He looked at me properly then. My eyes were already glassy, on the verge of spilling. He gulped.
Shashank: "Aree, it's okay. Tum pareshaan mat ho. Itne bure bhi nahi hain."
 ["Oh, it's okay. Don't worry. They're not that bad."]
I glared at him through tearful eyes.
Shashank: "Aree yaar, tumhare paas to time bhi nahi tha padhne ka. School join karte hi exam start ho gaye. Uncle aunty samjhenge. Koi baat nahi."
 ["Oh man, you didn't even have time to study. Exams started right after you joined school. Uncle and aunty will understand. It's okay."]
He tried to convince me.
Cracked a few stupid jokes to uplift my mood. One about the PT teacher's toupee. I didn't smile, but my breathing slowed down a little.
When the bus stopped, he got off with me and dropped me to my gate. Then he left, turning back once to wave.
Later That Evening
Author's POV

The oppressive, scorching winds of a July loo swept over Nandini like a physical weight, welcoming her with a suffocating dry heat as she stepped into the garden.

It clung to her hair and made her forehead burn. She came inside.
The coolness of the house felt fake against her burning skin. She went straight to the washbasin, splashed cold water on her face again and again. Water dripped down her chin.
She stood in front of the mirror. Her face looked pale, eyes sunken from lack of sleep. She tried to straighten her back, practiced a neutral expression.
Resting her hands on the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, searching for even a shred of confidence to confess her marks to her parents.
She rehearsed explanations in her head, desperately seeking the right words to soften the blow. Her lips moved, rehearsing words that never sounded right. Her chest felt tight.
Her head was pounding. But as the silence of the house pressed in on her, she decided it was useless; she would stay quiet and let them find out on the day of the Parent Teacer Meeting.

She ate dinner in silence. The rotis tasted like paper. After forcing down a few quiet bites of dinner, she retreated to her room.
The relentless spiral of overthinking and restlessness soon took its toll, manifesting as a dull, throbbing heat beneath her skin and the constant knot in her stomach.
By nightfall, a physical fever had settled over her, born of pure anxiety, leaving her shivering even during summer while her mind refused to rest.
To avoid any chance of a confrontation, she quickly sat at her desk, burying her face in her books.
She figured that if she looked entirely consumed by her studies, If she looked busy, nobody would talk. If she wasn't free, nobody would ask questions. The rest of the day dragged by in this tense, fragile quiet.

For the past two days fever had been sitting low in her body.
Every night she tossed and turned, counting days in the margins of her notebook, and every morning she woke up with a heavy head and dry throat. But she said nothing. 
After 2 weeks
(The Result Day)
The morning of the PTM arrived, heavy with anticipation. Nandini woke up with her throat dry and her skin burning; the sheer stress of the day had brought back her fever, making her limbs feel heavy and weak.
She went to school. The heat was worse. Her uniform stuck to her back with sweat. She felt like her head was wrapped in cotton because of stress.
The hallways were crowded with anxious students and whispering parents. Nandini, pale and utterly silent, stood beside her mother, Jaya, and her father. They waited patiently for their turn.
Nandini stood a little behind them, quiet. Her fingers kept twisting the hem of her shirt. Her lips were dry. When her turn came, they walked into the class. The fan was spinning slow. The teacher's desk was piled with copies.
When the class teacher finally gestured for them to come forward, they walked to the desk and exchanged tense, polite greetings. 

Teacher: "Namaste. Aaiye baithiye."
["Hello. Please come, sit down."]
The teacher pulled out the answer sheets and the report card, laying them flat on the desk. Jaya's eyes scanned the pages 5.5.5.5, stopping abruptly at the low marks. Her face instantly hardened, her jaw tightening as she stared at the single-digit score.
Though her heart was hammering with rage and disappointment, she remained dead silent, refusing to give a scene in public, though her eyes burned with displeasure. She said nothing.
 "She is a new admission and didn't had enough time to prepare," the teacher said, looking at Nandini, who kept her eyes glued to the floor. "These marks do not reflect her potential. She needs to put in double the effort."
Jaya forced a tight, polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We will look into it, Ma''am. Thank you."

She then turned her head and glared at Nandini, a look so sharp it felt like a physical blow, before coldly looking away.

Her father gently placed a hand on Nandini's trembling shoulder. "It's alright, beta," he murmured softly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We know you can do much better than this next time, okay? Don't lose heart....Okay."
Nandini nodded once. Her throat was too dry to speak, her throat tight with unshed tears, while her mother didn't utter a single word neither good nor bad her silence echoing louder than any reprimand.

Her father drove them back in a tense, suffocating silence. Stopping the bike in front of their gates, he turned to them before heading back to the office.

"Go inside and rest, Nandini. Don't stress too much," her father said gently, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

"Ji, Papa," Nandini whispered, keeping her head low.
He looked at his wife, whose face was still a mask of cold fury. "Jaya, don't be too harsh on her. She's already not feeling well. I'll see you both in the evening." Jaya didn't reply, simply opening her door and stepping inside the house.

 Inside the house, Jaya immediately went to her room, peeling off her heavy formal saree and changing into comfortable, loose clothes.
She walked into the kitchen, dished out a plate of food, and set it before Nandini without looking her in the eyes.
Nandini ate in silence, the food tasting like ash in her mouth, before quietly retreating to her room to lie down.

It was in that quiet moment of rest that Jaya's thin thread of patience finally snapped.

She marched into the room, her face contorted with built-up rage, and slapped Nandini hard across the face.

Jaya: "Bas khana kha le aur so Jaa. Khane aur sone ke alawa koi aur kaam hai? Padhayi likhai to ho nahi Rahi hai. 5 number... sharam aati hai ya nahi?!"

[Just eat your food and go to sleep. Do you have any other work besides eating and sleeping? No actual studying is happening. 5 marks... do you have any shame or not?!]

Nandini's hand flew to her burning cheek, her eyes wide with shock and pain. She tried to reason with her.

Nandini: "Mamma..."

But before she could utter another syllable, Jaya's hand struck her again once. twice. thrice. Four times in a row, rapid, brutal succession.
The slaps echoed sharply in the small room. Her cheek burned instantly. Red marks bloomed on her skin.

Jaya: "Ek to 5 number laayi hai upar se zaban ladati hai!...... Itna Paisa laga rahe hai tere upar. Sab kuch de rahe hai....acha khane aur pehenne ko mil raha hai phir bhi ye number??... Bas sone aur khane ko keh do. Besharam!"

[First you bring home 5 marks, and on top of that, you argue with me! We are spending so much money on you. You get the best food to eat and clothes to wear, and still these marks??... Just tell you to sleep and eat. Shameless!]

Nandini sobbed, covering her face as her mother pointed a threatening finger at her.

Jaya: "Ek awaz aur aayi to yahi peet dungi mai tujhe. Na padhne mein kuch aata hai na koi kaam kaaj... Kal ko sasuraal mein kaise guzara hoga? Wo log tujhe phook denge aur mai bhi nahi aaungi!"

[If I hear one more sound from you, I will beat you right here. You don't know how to study, nor do you do any household chores... How will you survive at your in-laws' house in the future? They will burn you alive, and even I won't come to save you!]

Nandini curled in on herself. Her body was already weak and burning from the fever, and the violent beating combined with her heavy sobbing triggered a blinding, agonizing headache.
 
Trembling, she dragged herself to her desk and opened her Mathematics textbook.

With the angry, bright red marks of her mother's fingers still clearly imprinted on her pale cheek and the tear tracks drying in stiff lines on her face, she forced her blurry eyes to focus on the numbers.

In the adjoining room, Anant and Aditya sat frozen.
Hearing the terrifying raise of their mother's voice and the sharp slaps, they immediately opened their own books and began studying furiously, terrified that they would be dragged into the storm and face her heated wrath next.
(At Night)
The house was heavy. The air inside felt thick, stagnant, and hot, refusing to circulate despite the steady, rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan.

Nandini sat at her small, wooden study table, her Maths textbook spread wide open under the harsh, flickering glare of the tube light.
The bulb buzzed with a low, irritating hum that vibrated straight through her skull.
Her cheek still burned with a deep, pulsing heat. Every single time she blinked, the skin pulled tight, and the sharp sting of the slaps came rushing back, reminding her of her mother's fury.
 
She pressed her fingertips lightly against her jaw, feeling the tender swelling.

In the living room, Aditya was sprawled carelessly across the sofa, his feet propped up on the armrest as he flipped mindlessly through the television channels.
The loud, artificial laugh track of a comedy show echoed down the hallway, filling the empty spaces of the house with hollow noise.
Anant was already asleep on the adjacent single bed, curled tightly under a thin cotton sheet, his mouth slightly open as he breathed in quiet, even rhythms, completely detached from the tension radiating through the walls.

In the kitchen, the sounds of preparation were sharp and deliberate. Jaya was rolling out rotis. The wooden belan [rolling pin] hit the board with aggressive, rhythmic thuds, each strike sounding like a small punctuation of her lingering frustration.
The metal tawa hissed loudly every time a raw circle of dough slapped against its hot surface.

Suddenly, the sharp ring of the doorbell sliced through the house.

Nandini stiffened at her desk, her breath catching in her throat.

Her father, Devendra, entered. The outside heat rushed inside with him, clinging to his linen office shirt. He looked incredibly worn out, his shoulders drooping under the invisible weight of a long day.
The house met him with that same eerie, familiar silence, no cheerful greeting, no soft chatter.
There was only the dry whir of the fan and the mindless blare of the television.

Without speaking to anyone, Devendra walked to the bathroom to freshen up, the sound of running water splashing against the basin.
When he emerged, he walked straight into the living room, stood in front of the sofa, and took the remote control directly from Aditya's hand without saying a single word.
He switched the channel to a national news station. Immediately, the grave, monotonous voice of the news anchor became the background noise of the household, masking the uncomfortable quiet that stretched between them.

Later, Jaya's voice called out from the kitchen, signaling that dinner was ready. One by one, they gathered around the small dining table.
Steel plates clattered softly as Jaya dished out portioned servings of yellow dal, dry sabzi, and hot, slightly charred rotis.

Mid bite, Devendra's gaze drifted across the table and fell directly on Nandini. He froze for a second, his hand hovering over his plate.

Nandini's head was bowed low. Her eyes were glued to the floor, staring down at her worn chappals lying near the table leg as if they were the most fascinating, intricate things in the entire world.
Her hair fell forward in heavy, dark curtain like waves, a desperate, physical shield to hide the side of her face. But it wasn't enough.
Through the gaps in her hair, the harsh overhead light caught them faint, swollen red marks of fingers clearly outlined against her pale cheek and jawline.

Devendra's eyes shifted slowly, locking onto Jaya, who sat directly opposite him. Jaya did not blink.
She deliberately avoided his searching stare, keeping her chin up and continuing to eat her food with methodical, calm precision.

Devendra looked back at Nandini's shrinking frame, his chest tightening. He felt a wave of conflict, but he closed his mouth and said nothing.
He decided it was best not to start a massive family argument at the dinner table, especially with the Nandini and younger boys sitting right there.

So, everyone ate. The silence was occasionally punctuated by forced, superficial small talk about the office, the traffic, and the dry weather.
The news anchor continued to speak to the empty air in the background, serving as a desperate, much needed distraction. No one mentioned the bruises. No one dared to bring up the school test.

When dinner finally finished, Nandini quietly got up, her joints aching from her fever.
She carefully stacked the empty steel plates, making sure they didn't clatter, and carried them over to the kitchen sink.
She was halfway down the corridor, heading toward the safety of her room, when her mother's cold, demanding voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

Jaya: "Ruko.... Idhar Aao. Jabtak mai bartan dho rahi hoon kitchen saaf kar do aur bahar pocha laga do"......."Badi ho gayi ho. Thode bahut kaam bhi seekho. Padhayi to waise bhi nahi ho rahi hai tumse."

[Come here. While I wash the dishes, clean the kitchen and mop outside. You're grown up now. Learn to do some work too. Anyway you're not studying.]

Nandini's stomach clenched. Her body was burning, and her head throbbed with a dull, heavy pulse, but she dared not complain. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Nandini: "Ji maa."

[Yes mom.]

She quietly straightened her tshirt around her waist and got to work.
She took a damp kitchen rag and began wiping down the greasy marble slab, scrubbing the stubborn oil stains off the gas stove.
Then, grabbing the heavy plastic bucket and a ragged mop, she began wiping the tiled floor. The strong, chemical scent of phenyl rose into the warm air, stinging her nose and making her eyes water.

And this is how it starts. It never begins with a formal, grand speech about a woman's place in society. It begins with chores.

From the very moment a girl is tall enough to reach the kitchen counter, she is quietly, systematically taught that her ultimate worth is measured by how well she serves others.
Sweep the floor till it shines, cook the roundest rotis, keep your voice low, never talk back, adjust to every discomfort, and make yourself invisible.

Every single scolding, every reprimand, every sharp "seekh lo" [learn it], and every pointed "kaam karo" [do the work] it all quietly, relentlessly points to one singular, predetermined future. Sasural [the in laws' house].

It is as if her entire childhood is not a time of learning, play, or self discovery, but merely a rigorous, unpaid training period.
As if her heavy schoolbooks, her burning fever, her disappointing marks, her tears, and her personal pain, all of it is entirely secondary to whether she will make a quiet, obedient, "good wife and daughter in law" one day.

No one in this house ever asks what she wants to become. No one inquires about her dreams, her interests, or what makes her happy.
They only ask if she will be capable of managing a husband's house without bringing shame to her parents.
Her own life, her unique personality, her hopes all of it is kept on indefinite hold for a day and a family that hasn't even arrived yet.

By the time Nandini finished, her hands smelled of harsh dish soap, dirty water, and dust.
Exhausted, she slipped back into her room, packed her schoolbag for the following morning with trembling hands, and lay down on her bed.
Above her, the dusty ceiling fan moved in slow, heavy circles, pushing the warm air around.

She lay perfectly still, observing everything. She thought about the way people lived in this house. The complete lack of genuine communication.
The way major problems were quietly swallowed and buried deep inside instead of being discussed.
Everyone existed in their own separate, isolated corners, hiding behind television screens, textbooks, or silence, pretending everything was fine while the foundation crumbled.

Lying there in the dark, she realized how completely she had lost her outspoken and chirpy self in the suffocating chaos of what had happened over these last two months.
The girl who used to laugh freely, speak her mind without fear, and fill a room with her bright energy was entirely gone, swallowed whole by the rigid rules of this city household.
Instead, she had slowly embraced silence, learning to wrap it around herself like a protective, armor-like shield.

But beneath the quiet compliance was a deeper, raw ache.
Her nani's abandonment of her....... the sudden, crushing realization that the one person who was supposed to protect her had simply let her go and sent her away had broken her in profound, quiet ways that she couldn't even begin to heal.
The warmth, the unconditional love she once possessed, had been replaced by a cold transaction of duties.
She felt entirely adrift, a stranger to her own family, and even a stranger to the broken girl staring back at her from the mirror.

Meanwhile, Jaya finished washing the final pots, wiped her hands on her apron, turned off the kitchen lights, and walked into her bedroom.

Devendra was sitting on the edge of the double bed, waiting for her. The room was dark, lit only by the faint light coming from the window. He observed her for a while and then proceeded to ask her

Devendra : "Nandini ke chehre pe nishaan kaise aaye?"

[How did the marks on Nandini's face happen?]

Jaya hesitated for a fraction of a second, her hand pausing on the closet door. Then, her chin went up, and her shoulders straightened defensively as she turned to face her husband.

Jaya: "Maine maara...... Bahut Ziddi ho gayi hai. Baat nahi maanti. Isi bhasha me samjhegi. Isse strictness aur discipline ki zaroorat hai. Isko sudharna padega."

[I hit her. She's stubborn. Doesn't listen. She'll only understand this language. She needs more strictness. She needs to be corrected.]

Devendra closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension building behind his eyes.

Devendra : "Jaya, ye humare saath bachpan se nahi rahi jab se isko samajh aane lagi. Isko adjust karne me time lagega. Isko ek safe space chahiye. Daant ke nahi milega wo."

[Jaya, she hasn't been with us since she started understanding things. It will take time for her to adjust. She needs a safe space. You won't get that by scolding.]

Jaya's voice instantly went sharp, her eyes narrowing as she defended her actions.

Jaya: "Gaon ka mahaul bigaad deta hai. Wahan koi rok tok nahi thi. Isiliye badtameez ho gayi hai."

[The village environment spoils you. There was no one to control her there. That's why she has become rude.]

Devendra : "Nani ke paas Bhejne ka faisla bhi to humara tha.  Usne nahi decide kiya tha."

[The decision to send her was ours too. To stay with grandma. She didn't choose it.]

Jaya crossed her arms over her chest, her face tightening with stubborn finality.

Jaya: "Par us samay wahi best option tha humare paas."

[But at that time that was the best option we had.]

The bedroom fell completely quiet again. No more words were exchanged. The only sound left was the monotonous, circular whir of the fan overhead, slicing through the dark.

Flashback
The heat of a different afternoon, almost four years ago, had once filled a very different room.

Inside the small apartment, eighteen month old Nandini was sitting on the colorful carpet, surrounded by a fortress of soft pillows and plastic toys. Her chubby legs kicked in the air. Her hair was tied in two messy ponytails with rubber bands. There was a smudge of crayon on her cheek.
Just a few feet away, six year old Aditya sat cross legged, completely absorbed in coloring a scenery in his drawing book, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.
Nearby, in the center of the double bed, lay two month old Anant wrapped in a white cotton jhabla, asleep on the bed. His chest rose and fell too fast, too light, like a bird.

Nandini had recently taken her first steady steps.
Roaming throughout the day, crawling into tight corners, picking up random objects, and throwing them here and there was her newfound and most enjoyable hobby.
Her small fingers were just developing their grip, testing the weight of the world around her. She was a bundle of endless, bright energy a chirpy, curious child who knew nothing of boundaries, illness, or favor.

As she banged two plastic blocks together, Giggled. Then threw the car. It rolled across the carpet. She saw it. Her eyes lit up mischievously.

She slid off the bed with a thud, wobbled, and chased it. Crawling, then standing, then falling. That was the whole day for her.

Disturbed by th noise the tiny baby on the bed suddenly began to cry. The sharp, high-pitched noise immediately caught Nandini's attention.
She dropped her blocks and crawled toward the edge of the bed, her big eyes filled with pure curiosity. Standing up on her wobbly legs, she reached out.
She grabed Anant's tiny foot, trying to pull him closer, wanting him to come down to her level on the carpet.

She wasn't doing it out of malice. She had no understanding of how fragile a two month old baby was, nor did she comprehend her own clumsiness. To her, the crying baby was simply a new friend who needed to be brought down to play with her.

Aditya, deeply lost in his coloring, didn't notice. 
The door banged open.

Stepping into the room with a basket of folded laundry, Jaya froze for half a second. Her face went white, then red.
Gasping, she dropped the basket, rushed forward, and she rushed in, yanked Nandini's hand away from Anant's leg. Pulled the baby to her chest in one jerky motion.....Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of her toddler pulling on the leg of her newborn.
Jaya: "Pagal ho gayi hai kya?! Chhod use! Maar degi use!"
["Have you gone mad?! Leave him! You'll kill him!"]
Nandini returned a wide innocent smile neither understanding the gravity of situation nor her mother's words.

Jaya: "Aditya! Tumhara dhyan kahan rehta hai? Maine kaha tha na ispe nazar rakhna! Agar Anant bed se gir jata to?!"

[Aditya! Where is your focus? Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on her! What if Anant had fallen off the bed?!]

Aditya shrank back, clutching his orange crayon, his eyes wide with fear as he looked down at his drawing book.

Just then, Jaya's mother, Shivani, entered the room, stopping in her tracks as she took in the chaotic scene. She hurried over, picking up a startled, silent Nandini from the floor.

Shivani: "Kya hua, Jaya? Kyun itna chilla rahi ho bacche par?"

[What happened, Jaya? Why are you yelling at the child so much?]

Jaya's hands were visibly shaking as she smoothed down Anant's clothes, her voice cracked with sheer panic and exhaustion.

Jaya: "Maa, ye doosri baar hai jab maine Nandini ko aise pakda hai. Mujhe dar lagta hai. Aditya pehle se hi itna beemar rehta hai, uske checkups aur daud bhaag me waise hi jaan nikli rehti hai. Agar ab Anant ko kuch ho gaya, to mai kya karungi? Mujhe is ladki se darr lagne laga hai."

[Maa, this is the second time I've caught Nandini like this. I'm terrified. Aditya is already so sick, all his checkups and running around take everything out of me anyway. If something happens to Anant now, what will I do? I'm starting to feel scared of this girl.]

Shivani looked down at the tiny toddler in her arms. Nandini was sucking her thumb, completely oblivious to the heavy accusations being thrown at her tiny shoulders.
Shivani sighed, a plan forming in her mind.....

Later that evening, when Devendra returned home from the office, the adults gathered in the quiet living room while the children slept.
The air was thick with a heavy, unspoken decision.

Shivani: "Dev beta, mai soch rahi thi... tum dono waise hi Adi ke ilaaj aur chemotherapy ke chakkar me bilkul pareshan rehte ho. Aur ab Anant bhi bahut chota hai, use har waqt dhyan chahiye. Tumhare paas Nandini ko dekhne ka samay hi nahi hai........ Kyun na mai Nandini ko apne saath gaon le jaoon? Kuch saalon ki toh baat hai."

[Devendra, I was thinking... you two are already completely broken down trying to manage Aditya's treatment and chemotherapy. And now Anant is so small, he needs attention all the time. You simply don't have the time to look after Nandini. Why don't I take Nandini back to the village with me? It's only a matter of a few years.]

Devendra sat back, rubbing his face with his hands. He looked toward the bedroom doorway.

Devendra : "Amma, ye kaise baat hui? Nandini khud ek bacchi hai. Use bhi apne maa-baap ki utni hi zaroorat hai jitni baaki dono ko. Hum use aise khud se door kaise bhej sakte hain?"

[Maa, what kind of talk is this? Nandini is a child herself. She needs her parents just as much as the other two. How can we just send her away from us like this?]

Jaya, who had been sitting silently with a cold, hardened expression, sharply intervened.

Jaya: "Aditya ke beemar hone ke baad, itni mushkil se, itni mannaton ke baad humare ghar me ye chirag hua hai. Mai Anant ko kisi risk me nahi daal sakti, Devendra!"
She looked down at her hands and continued...... "Nandini ne abhi chalna seekha hai, wo jaane anjaane me use kahi chot pahuncha degi. Mera har waqt dam ghutta hai darr se. Aur mai har waqt to inki chowkidari nahi kar sakti!"..... and narrated today's incident.

[After Aditya fell sick, it was with so much difficulty and so many prayers that we finally got this light of our family. I cannot put Anant at any risk, Devendra! Nandini has just learned to walk; she will unintentionally hurt him somewhere. I feel suffocated by fear all the time. And I cannot stand guard over them twenty-four hours a day!]

She wiped a rogue tear from her cheek, her voice rising in defensive justification.

Jaya: "Aur waise bhi, hum hamesha ke liye thodi bhej rahe hain use? Jab thodi badi ho jayegi, samajhdar ho jayegi, tab wapas bula lenge...... Abhi ke liye sabke liye yahi sahi hai. Mera bhi workload thoda kam ho jayega."
She looked up at Devendra. Her eyes were wet but her voice was hard.
"Aur wahan gaon me toh meri maa hai, wo uska khayal rakhengi. Aur baaki kharche ka saara saaman toh hum yahan se bhejenge hi na."

[And anyway, are we sending her away forever? When she grows up a bit and gets some sense, we will bring her back. For now, this is what is best for everyone. My workload will also ease up a bit. And back in the village, my mother is there; she will look after her. And as for the expenses, we will send everything from here anyway.]

Devendra stared at his hands, feeling the crushing weight of his wife's anxiety and the exhaustion of their circumstances. He looked at Shivani, who gave him a reassuring nod.
He gave a defeated sigh. His shoulders slumped. He looked at the cradle, then at Nandini, who was now sitting on the floor, sucking her thumb, unaware. He eventually agreed to the arrangement.

Devendra :  "Theek hai... jaisa aap dono ko sahi lage."

[Fine... whatever you two think is right.]
Flashback ends

The quiet hypocrisy of that evening remained etched into the very foundations of Nandini's life, even if she was too young to voice it then.

To her family, a two month old infant was a fragile, precious baby who needed to be shielded, loved, and protected at all costs.
Yet, an eighteen month old toddler....who was still wobbly on her feet, still learning to speak, still entirely dependent on her mother's touch was suddenly deemed old enough, strong enough, and independent enough to be cast away.
To them, Nandini was a threat, a burden, a calculation that didn't add up in their busy, stressful lives.

Nandini had never willingly signed up for any of this. She didn't ask for her brother's illness, she didn't ask for her younger brother's birth, and she certainly didn't ask to be treated like an outsider in her own family.

When her parents stood at the crossroads of their lives and had to make a choice, they willingly, consciously chose everyone else over her.
They drew a protective boundary around their home, and they left Nandini standing on the outside.

Now, four years later, sleeping in a silent house that felt more like a prison than a home, the invisible scars of that abandonment ran deep.
They had made their choice when she was small and defenseless.
But as Nandini lay staring at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, her heart hardening in the silence of her room, an unspoken truth hung in the heavy air.

One day, she would grow up.

One day......she would no longer be the child waiting to be chosen.

One day, she would stand at a crossroads, holding the power of choice in her own hands. And when that day comes, she might choose them......or she might not.
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will be continued in next chapter.
Thank You💙
Lots of Love🫶🏻✨