Aru Shah Oneshots (requests!)

[1] • I Want to Die

Requested by @sanjanaaa- : a sad hirynne post-marriage story.

Ok, here goes...

☆☆☆Brynne☆☆☆

The door to the apartment opened loudly. The sound of plastic bags ruffled as Hira hobbled in with the groceries in her hands, closing the door with her foot.

Brynne walked over to greet her, but someone else was there, too. A large, light-skinned man, no more than fifty trailed behind Hira. The two were in deep conversation.

"Kanna, who---?" she started.

"One second," the rakshasi yelped through clenched teeth. She set the groceries on the floor and hurried to the bedroom, covering her head with her palms. "Can you put these in the refrigerator?"

"Okay..." Brynne leaned in to kiss her wife on the cheek, but Hira stepped back, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Not now," she said sternly. "For my sake."

Brynne picked up the groceries and set them on the counter. She looked over at the man Hira brought to their apartment. He stood still in front of the door, arms crossed. The man was tall and dressed in a simple grey suit. His hair was matted in white curls. Brynne would have thought he was a normal man, except his eyes were glowing a faint red, and his pupils were long slits. Rakshasa.

"Would you like to... take a seat?" Brynne asked curiously, before adding, "Um, sir?"

The man huffed and turned sharply to Brynne as if just noticing her. He nodded and sat on the edge of a couch, tapping his feet. "So... Hira lives here?" His voice seeped with distaste.

"Yes, sir. I live here, too."

He eyed Brynne curiously. "Living in the human world is bad enough. But with a human?" He shook his head.

Brynne was about to retort and tell him she was part asura when Hira interrupted.

"Baba, let me get you a glass of water," Hira said calmly, emerging from the bathroom. She quickly wrapped a Rajasthani headscarf around her hair. Brynne thought it was odd; she never saw Hira wear a headscarf.

Hira walked over to the kitchen to where Brynne was standing.

"Who is that?" Brynne whispered.

The rakshasi carefully filled a cup with water. Her hands shook. "My father." Hira took a deep breath. "He saw me in the city and spotted my mangal sutra," she said, her hands floating up to the gold necklace. Every married Hindu woman wore one. "He asked who my husband is." She looked up at Brynne, panic screaming on her face.

Brynne didn't move. "What are you going to tell him?" she asked quietly. She placed her hand on her wife's hip, reassuringly. The small woman shivered.

Hira let out a trembling sigh. "The truth. What else can I do?" She held one hand in front of the glass and cautiously walked over to the living room of the small apartment place. She placed the glass into the man's hands. "Here, Baba."

The man took it gingerly and sipped. He eyed Brynne skeptically and pointed at her with his chin. "Who is this one?"

Hira looked to the floor, fidgeting with her hands. She mumbled something.

"Is this a roommate?" her father pressed louder.

"I'm Brynne," she introduced herself. She held out her arm for him to shake.

The man looked up at her with red rakshasa eyes. Brynne couldn't believe her wife---a small, quiet, young woman---was related to such a large, scary man. He took Brynne's hand and gripped it firmly. Veins bulged around his wrist, and his fingers felt like dried sandpaper.