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Abhishek's words, a gentle breeze,
Confronts his family, with love and ease.
"Enough, dear mother, and aunts, I say,
Leave Malini be, let her grow, let her sway.
She's still a child, learning, developing too,
Don't fill her heart with fear, with pain anew.
Being a mother, a choice she'll make,
Her body, her right, her decision to take.
I won't tolerate, this pressure, this stress,
She's my wife, my love, my heart's caress.
Her early years, not to be filled with pain,
I'll protect her, with love, with all my might, I'll remain."
He walks out, calm, through the corridor's length,
Thinking of Malini, his heart's gentle breath.
She waits for him, in their room, a sweet nest,
Oiling her hair, a ritual, a love- best.
He smiles, knowing, her every move,
She does it knowing, he'll come, he'll love.
The closeness, the touch, the love they share,
He pretends to not know, but he's aware.
With every step, his heart beats fast,
Towards his love, his Malini, at last.
He walks, with love, with a gentle smile,
To join his love, in their love's sweet isle.
•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•
17th April 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK'S POV~
"My haveli," I say coldly, each word a small, measured explosion.
"I'm the heir of this haveli… not you…" I continue, the truth a calm, hard stone in my mouth.
The aunts' faces twitch; for the first time the edges of their certainty are ragged.
The courtyard feels heavier than ever…. its silence thick like humid air before a storm.
Even the rustling of the betel leaves outside seems cautious, afraid to interrupt.
"Is this how you'll talk with your aunt because of that girl who came into your life not even a week ago?!" Suchitra aunty says, her voice shrill with disbelief, her bangles clinking as she folds her arms.
Her words sting like a whip cutting through the stillness.
I look at her, then at the rest of them… faces I've known since childhood, now twisted in judgment. "Isn't this your thoughts and beliefs… that only a man can rule the house… not a daughter… so… shall I call you all a burden on me and my father and uncles?"
My words come out calm, too calm perhaps, but each one lands with the weight of unspoken years.
They flinch, their eyes darting between one another, waiting for someone else to speak.
The faint crackle of the oil lamp beside the pillar fills the gap between our breaths.
"I'm not like you… don't worry. I have values to know what I have to say and what I don't…" I say quietly, watching the silence spread like spilled ink across the room.
A faint tremor runs through my hand, but I keep my expression steady.
"But… I'm saying this for the last time… Don't you all dare to threaten her for anything," I warn them calmly, my tone firm yet composed.
And I know—
My calmness is the last word.
The words echo inside my chest, steady but cold, like iron just taken off the forge.
"And forget about her being pregnant… She's still a child… very young to have that burden," I add, my voice lowering, almost breaking at the thought.
"Child?! She's fifteen years old! I became a mother when I was fourteen… you were in my womb when I was fourteen!" Maa snaps, her nostrils flaring, her hand trembling as she points at me.
The firelight flickers over her face, carving the fury in sharp shadows.
"Yes! She's not a child… We all became mothers before fifteen or around fifteen!" Vaishali aunty adds, waving her hand animatedly, her gold bangles clattering together like defiant bells.
I look at them— all of them.
"And?... Did you want to?... Any of you? Did any of you know what was happening with you?"
My voice softens, though it cuts deeper.
The silence that follows isn't peaceful…. It's suffocating.
"The pain… the trauma… have you all forgotten?" I ask, my fist tightening at my side, nails biting into my palm.
The memory of Malini's trembling hands flashes before me, her eyes clouded with fear, and I feel a chill crawl up my spine.
"But we did… I did. I endured the pain… that's why you're here," Maa says, shaking her head, her tone laced with both pride and sorrow.
The faint glimmer of tears hides behind her stubborn glare.
I look away for a moment, my throat tightening.
The smell of burnt oil from the lamp lingers in the air, bitter and heavy…. like everything unsaid between us.
"Maa… I don't want to have arguments with you… my words are final… She'll not be pregnant until she wants to… it's her body… her choice," I say firmly.
My voice cuts through the heavy silence of the room.
The air smells of incense and faint smoke, but even the holy fragrance feels suffocating.
I can hear the soft rustle of Maa's silk saree as she shifts, her eyes glinting in the dull lamplight.
"You're her husband… it's not her body her choice… it's all about you," Maa says firmly, her tone sharp like cracked glass.
A flicker of anger runs through me, burning low behind my ribs.
"Will I carry the baby in my stomach? Will I tear my skin to give birth to one? Will I? No… right?" I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
My voice trembles, not from fear… but from restrained fury.
Maa's eyes widen for a moment, perhaps more in shock than realization.
"But you're her husband!" Suchitra aunty says, stepping forward, her bangles clattering as she gestures toward me. "Her words don't matter… your words matter because you're her husband!"
Her words echo through the hall like a slap, but I don't flinch.
I look straight at her, the weight of generations pressing on my shoulders.
"That's what I'm telling you all… it's my word that she'll not be pregnant or do anything she doesn't want to… I'll not let that happen," I say, each word deliberate— measured, controlled, and burning quietly with conviction.
"I don't want to hear anything about this matter again. My words are final," I say with authority, my tone calm but edged like steel.
"But—"
Before Maa can continue…
"If you all are so eager to have a child before this year… I suggest you try it yourself," I say, turning around to walk out of the hall.
My footsteps echo against the wooden floor… each one heavier than the last.
The silence behind feels like a storm has just torn through everything.
The air that once carried their harsh voices now feels eerily still…. like the house itself is holding its breath.
As I step out into the veranda, the cool breeze hits my face— sharp and almost stinging after the suffocating heat inside.
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the pulse in my temple ease, though the fire inside me doesn't die.
It only settles deeper— steady and unshakable.
I know… they're stunned by my words.
I didn't want to say them.
But their blindness… their cruelty… forced me to.
I exhale slowly, my chest rising and falling as the last streaks of the setting sun stretch across the corridor.
The light filters through the carved wooden lattice, casting amber patterns across the wooden floor.
Dust floats in that golden glow, shimmering softly like the world itself is calming down after the tempest.
The faint sound of anklets and temple bells drifts in from afar, but even they fade under the quiet hum of the evening.
I lean against the pillar for a moment, staring into the horizon…. its orange edge melting into deep purple.
The air smells faintly of jasmine and coconut oil… and suddenly, her face flashes in my mind.
I didn't see her after coming back.
She must be waiting for me.
With coconut oil.
A soft smirk curls on my lips, knowing she deliberately oils her hair in front of me… pretending not to notice when I draw closer to help her.
Her mischief is as quiet as it is innocent.
She's just a child, Abhishek.
I remind myself quietly.
I have to be patient with her.
She's learning.
Growing.
Curious.
The words echo inside me like a promise.
My anger begins to fade, replaced by something softer…. something warm and grounding.
With a soft smile tugging at my lips, I push myself off the pillar and walk toward our room.
My footsteps are lighter now, as though the house has released me from its suffocating grip.
Our sanctuary.
Where her laughter fills the air and her quiet eyes speak more than any words could.
"I'm coming… phoenix," I mumble softly with a faint chuckle, the corners of my mouth lifting.
The night breeze brushes past me, carrying the distant scent of roses and oil lamps.
And as I step through the threshold of our room, all the noise of the world seems to fall away….leaving only peace.
Only her.
My words are final for everyone while hers are mine.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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