Faasle ✔️

Part One: Lambi judaii

Simla
Ishita ran her hand over her hair as she stepped out of the taxi, the unfamiliar place she now called home looming in front of her.

The icy breeze that ruffled her hair pierced through her clothes like shards of glass, adding another layer to the frozen wasteland that was her heart.

"Simla Guest House" the signboard proclaimed, as she paid off the driver, walking slowly towards the large two storied wooden building.

It had been over a month, but it seemed like an entire lifetime since she had been forced out of home, since she had left Delhi. She had come to Simla after responding to an advertisement for a locum dentist. It was only for three months, but at least it would give her some breathing space, some time to decide what to do next, to gather the pieces of her shattered life.

She still could hardly believe what had happened to her, to them. How so much love could not sustain the happy little family that they had built so painstakingly, could not keep intact the broken frozen hearts that they had healed for each other.

She had honestly believed that what she had done to protect him was the best choice she was able to make in the circumstances. But he had chosen not to see her motives. Or even if he had seen her motives, he had not been able to disregard the deceit that she had engaged in, to forgive the lies she had told him.

She still remembered so vividly the last time that he had spoken to her, in their living room, in front of the family. He had brushed aside her hair to gaze at her bare neck.

"Tum ne mangalsutra nahi pehna hai na? Toh ab mat pehanna. Aaj se tera mera rishta khatam"
(You aren't wearing your mangalsutra? Good, don't wear it from today. Our relationship has ended)

She could still hear the immense hurt in his voice that made her soul cry for him, even as her own heart had shattered into a thousand little pieces.

She had never heard another word from him. He had stalked away, carrying the bottle of alcohol she had found him slumped over two hours later, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow.

She had gotten him to hospital, he had been saved, but he had still been unconscious when mummyji had ordered her out of her home. And then amma, her own amma had also refused to take her in.

She shivered and pulled her shawl closer around her slim body, the cold burning up the scars in her neck and hands. They were particularly sensitive to the icy weather of Simla, but perhaps that was just another punishment she had to bear. For her sins. Her sin of loving him.

The warm glow of lights and fireplaces beckoned to her as she trudged slowly towards the Guest house.

She had booked a suite of rooms in the Guest house - a bedroom in which she spent sleepless nights, a bathroom where her tears mingled with the cascading waters of her morning shower, a living area where the walls bore witness to her anguished silent wails of despair and the tiny Kitchenette where she made the meals which she could not eat.

He had still been in hospital, still unconscious when Sarika had been unmasked, and arrested along with Ashok. She had tried to go there to see him, had tried every day, but all had blocked her way.

Then he had woken up. She had found out from Simmi, who still spoke to her bhabhi. But even then, he had not asked for her. She had still been stopped from going near him.

And so, in the face of everyone's unrelenting hatred, knowing that now her task was done, that he was now safe, she had decided, for his sake, for her children's sake, for hr own sake, to walk away from his life.

He would be fine, of that she had been assured before she left. He would recover fully.

And she still had one way of finding out about him, of trying to fill the hunger, the void in her heart, with news of him. Adi. Her son. One of the only three members of her family, along with Simmi and Ruhi, who had not judged her. Who had still held her close. He had cried when she told him she was leaving.