The Price You Pay

The Price You Pay: Chapter 26

I sit in my rocking chair for hours before I finally feel I am able to go to bed. Just swaying gently, huddled under Renée's quilt and looking into the darkness. I feel strangely neutral, and it takes me a long while to realize that I am actually relaxing. Slowly but gradually, as if consciously, I feel my tense muscles uncoil, until I am leaning drowsily against the back of the chair, my head lolling a bit with heavy exhaustion.

Vansh saw me cry. I didn't care at the moment, and even now the expected mortification stays away. He didn't ignore me, didn't walk away in disgust. He didn't curse at me or lash out in any other way. It was as if he felt I was really confused and just unable to keep my cool for a moment.

He didn't judge.

Instead, he made me tea. With the kettle on the stove. Then I remember an earlier nightly meeting we had in that same kitchen. He didn't even know how to ignite the pit then. And last week on the porch, he said 'I boiled water and everything.' Then how did he make tea beforehand?

Oh my, did he nuke his water in the microwave?

I shudder involuntary at the thought. But now, he made me tea, twice. And he boiled water and everything. For me.

Breathing in and out deeply, I decide not even to try to make sense of it all. I don't know why he would be nice to me like this. There must be some sort of catch.

Honestly, there's no such thing as altruism.

When I can't keep my eyes open anymore, I set the alarm on my phone and get ready for bed. It still feels almost unnatural to wear satin pajamas and slide in between cool sheets, knowing there's a good chance I will be able to sleep undisturbed.

It's unbelievable.

Sleep washes over me like a thick blanket and for the first time in a very long time, I sleep deeply, without dreams.

The next day starts as usual, but different. I sit up in bed and listen to the household getting ready for the day, as I often do. But this time I am rubbing my face, feeling disoriented and groggy with the heavy remnants of sleep that won't seem to leave my body, my head. I feel fuzzy, and strangely alive.

It has been ages since I had such a good night of sleep. Usually I am more alert and wake up several times during the night. But last night, I didn't. I don't think I even dreamed.

I step out of bed and stretch languorously before I shuffle into the bathroom to get ready for my day.

Not even the tight anxiety over the upcoming meeting with the principal that looms can pull me from this fuzzy state of mind.

Arriving in the kitchen, hot coffee and a newspaper await me, as usual. I fix myself some cereal and sit down at the table, eating and reading, and feeling strangely relaxed.

I don't even startle that much when Maya steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Riddhima," she smiles. "How are you this morning?"

I give a slight smile and a nod to let her know I'm okay, and then point at her with the hand that holds my spoon still.

"I'm good, thank you. Did you sleep well? You look tired."

I smile to myself, not sure if it shows on the outside or not. Of course I look tired. My eyes still feel tiny and my body still feels like it's half asleep. But contrary to what Maya thinks, I slept very well.

And this makes me feel so content I look up at Maya and smile at her with my half-closed eyes, a dreamy look certainly still on my face.

"Oh," Maya says, breathing out a laugh as she speaks, "I take it you slept very well?"