---
As soon as they entered the flat, Madhurima closed the door. Before she could even put her bag down, her eyes went straight to her daughter's face.
"You need ointment on your lip," she said—her voice calm, but firm.
Katha froze midway while untieing her shoelaces.
Madhurima opened the drawer and took out a small blue box. She opened it and pulled out the ointment.
"Go wash your face in the bathroom. Then I'll apply this on your lip," she said, her tone strict but laced with concern.
Katha went silently to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. When she saw the reddish swelling at the corner of her lip in the mirror, her chest tightened—the afternoon came rushing back to her.
Katha came back to the room where her mother was waiting for her.
Madhurima asked her to sit infront of her. Katha did so.
Madhurima opened the lid, took some ointment on her finger, and stepped closer. "Keep your lips closed."
Katha obeyed.
As the ointment touched the swollen area, a sharp sting ran through her. "Ah… Ma, it burns…"
"Of course it burns," Madhurima replied, her eyes steady and unblinking.
"You should have thought of the pain before getting hurt."
That wound was telling her something—no matter how many times Katha said she had fallen, this was not an accident.
As she applied the ointment slowly, Madhurima said, "Listen. If anyone ever hits you again, I'll go straight to your teachers. And if I have to, I'll stand right outside the principal's office."
Katha didn't say a word—but she knew.
Her mother had already understood. There was nothing left to explain.
Madhurima looked straight into her eyes. "I'm your mother. I can tell—this isn't the mark of a fall."
Katha stayed silent. Something felt stuck in her throat, but she didn't let it come out. She picked up her bag and went to her room.
She sat there for a long time. The scenes from the afternoon refused to leave her mind.
---
Evening.
Katha stood near the door and peeked into her mother's room.
Soft yellow light filled the room. Madhurima stood in front of the large mirror on the dressing table, adjusting the pleats of her saree.
She was wearing a light brown chiffon saree—so sheer that the lines of her blouse were clearly visible beneath the folds. The pallu hung loosely from her shoulder, almost transparent, revealing more than it concealed.
The blouse was fitted in a way that accentuated every curve—no extra fabric, no attempt to hide its form.
The back was completely open, held together only by two thin strings, exposing her glowing skin through the gaps, as though designed deliberately to draw attention.
Through the deep neckline, a hint of cleavage was visible.
From shoulder to waist, her body flowed in a continuous curve, her waistline clearly outlined through the thin fabric.
Her hair was left open, cascading over her shoulders. Dark red lipstick. Sharp eyeliner.
There was something deliberately seductive in her appearance—something Katha had seen many times before, and each time it hurt the same way.
She knew this look well.
This was her mother's extra-shift look.
"Are you going out, Ma?" Katha asked—curiosity masking discomfort.
Madhurima smiled faintly. "Yes. I have an extra shift tonight. I'll be late. Maybe I won't be back until morning."
Katha stood quietly.
She knew what extra shift meant—a night spent with a wealthy client.
Madhurima suddenly spoke in a serious tone while adjusting her saree. "Listen. Once I leave, don't open the door—not even once. Don't forget. The man in the apartment across from us… he's a criminal. God knows what kind of filthy things he's done. Stay away from him."
Katha lowered her head and listened.
Madhurima continued, "And the way you were staring at him earlier—I didn't like that at all."
Katha looked up, startled.
"I'm not home, so don't even think of stepping outside," Madhurima scolded. "Do you understand?"
Katha nodded silently.
Her voice turned sharp. "If you get too rebellious, I'll break your legs."
Katha looked at her, hurt.
"And from today onwards," Madhurima added, "no more hot pants or sleeveless tops at home."
"Ma—" Katha began, a trace of protest in her voice.
"Calling 'Ma' won't change this. My word is final."
"But I feel comfortable in them," Katha said quietly, sulking.
Madhurima snapped, "What kind of habit is this? Can't you stay decent for once? A criminal lives right across from us. This isn't the time to roam around dressed like that."
"But Ma," Katha said, "he lives in the other apartment. I'm not even going outside. Is he going to come into our house just to look at me?"
Madhurima lost her temper. "Why do you argue so much? I hate that."
Katha didn't dare say anything else.
Madhurima fixed her with a stern look. "Remember what I said. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone until I return tomorrow morning. If you hear anything strange, call Aniruddha Uncle immediately. Understood?"
Katha nodded.
Inside her mind, one thought surfaced—that man.
She didn't dislike him at all.
Still, she said nothing.
Before leaving, Madhurima checked her reflection one last time, sprayed perfume, picked up her bag, and walked out.
At the door, she warned Katha once more.
She was worried—terribly worried.
Her daughter was growing up. Soon, she would be even more beautiful than her. Even now, Madhurima had noticed how men's eyes followed Katha. And tonight, she had to leave her alone at home.
With a convicted man living across the hall.
But she had no choice.
She needed the money.
---
Once the door shut, a strange silence settled over the apartment.
Katha sat on the sofa, her thoughts drifting back to the afternoon. The pain in her lip still lingered.
And yet, in some unwilling corner of her heart, the man from the opposite apartment remained—
the man her mother called disgusting.
Since the moment she had seen him, Katha felt an unfamiliar pull toward him.
---
---
To be continued…