"Sorry, Karan," Arun apologized.
The atmosphere felt tense but atleast I could breathe normally now.
I scratched my neck and took a sip.
Why didn't I run a day before my wedding. A thought struck my mind.
I shook my head.
No more thinking now.
This is the reality.
My inner voice directed me.
Finally, we reached their house. I got out of the car and took a deep breath. It felt like I had just stepped out of a jail. It was my first time regretting wearing a beautiful red dress.
Their mother, Veena Ji, was standing at the main door, waiting for us. A money-hungry person like me immediately noticed her pearl necklace. My first thought:
I could start a small company with that necklace.
"Are you leaving, Mom?" Varun asked.
The man who couldn't open his mouth in the car had finally spoken.
So… is he a mama's boy? The thought appeared instantly.
Shut up, Aayna.
Another thought struck down the previous one.
Stop judging people in a fraction of a second.
"Yes. Now I can't live here," she said.
I was so tired that I did not want this talk show happening at the main door. I wanted a bed.
I wish I could scream:
A bed.
A pillow.
And a blanket, please.
As I was lost inside my own head, Divya punched me lightly in the back.
"Be a nice daughter-in-law and ask her to stay or ask why she's leaving."
Not because of Divya's punch, but because it reminded me of my contract with my father, I spoke.
"Why aren't you staying? Aren't you tired?" I asked in the softest voice possible.
Veena Ji smiled. "No, darling. I can't stay here now. At least for two or three months."
Everyone nodded.
What?
What? What?
Was I too tired to understand her? What did I miss?
I looked at Divya. She looked equally confused. I did not want to ask more, but curiosity was killing me.
"Why can't you stay for two to three months?" I asked again.
Everyone looked at me.
Did I ask an illegal question? Why were they reacting like this?
"A mother-in-law and daughter-in-law can't stay in the same house," Varun said politely.
This guy can be polite too? I was amazed.
But… what?
"A mother-in-law and daughter-in-law can't stay in the same house?"
Divya and I asked at the same time.
"Nooo."
Everyone answered in unison, as if it were completely unacceptable to even suggest otherwise.
"Why?" Divya asked. "If I may…"
What a ridiculous question — that's what everyone seemed to be thinking. I could literally read it on their faces.
But Veena Ji still explained.
"A woman handles the affairs of the house. If there are two, then who will the servants listen to? Men tend to listen to their mothers more, out of respect. If both live in the same house, wouldn't the wife feel neglected?"
Divya and I looked at each other and nodded, trying to sink it in.
"Oh, of course. That's what happens after marriage," I said, fake-laughing.
"I got married for the first time, so it slipped my mind. In my next marriage, I'll remember this."
Everyone's smiles vanished.
"She meant the next marriage she will attend — probably mine," Divya instantly corrected.
It was embarrassing.
So embarrassing that I wanted to disappear.
Finally, after standing there for half an hour, Veena Ji left. She was a sweet lady, but I wanted to pick her up, put her into the car, and ask the driver to take her anywhere — just not home until tomorrow.
The servants opened the main door. By the way, I have a rich father. I have rich relatives. I know how richness feels like. But today, instantly, I felt poor. I regretted ever calling myself rich, because this house looked three times bigger than mine.
"Can you show Divya her room?" Karan asked one of the servants.
Thank you, Divya said,
and good night.
I looked around at my surroundings — me, my three husbands, and a middle-aged lady, a servant.
I knew what came after marriage.
The wedding night.
.
.
Karan stepped forward.
"Shall we go to my room?"
"Why yours?"
Arun asked.
"Don't start fighting here,"
Varun said.
And then he grabbed my arm and started walking upstairs.
Karan grabbed his collar.
"I don't want to punch you, so stay in your lane."
While they were arguing, Arun quietly pulled me away and started walking in another direction.
Varun saw him.
"Arun, stop!"
he shouted.
Now all three brothers were standing in a circle, looking ready to kill each other.
"I will take her first,"
Karan said.
Arun grabbed his collar.
"What gives you that right?"
The anger on their faces, the tension in the air — it was impossible not to feel it.
"I'm the youngest.
I'll take her first."
"Is that an achievement — being born first or last?" Varun shot back, grabbing his collar.
"I just want to remind you, Arun, that I'm your twin. We were born on the same day, two minutes apart."
"Wahhh," Karan said with a smirk.
"So you're both the younger ones?
Will you both spend this night with her?"
"If you both are agreeing to this, then okay.
I can wait until tomorrow," Karan said.
"Yeah, sure," Arun and Varun agreed.
"And then I'll spend my next night alone with her."
"AEEEEEEEEEE!" Varun shouted.
Arun clenched his teeth, his fingers curling into fists.
And Karan received a punch straight to his face.
Readers, were you waiting for this?
Did it feel nice?
Three men fighting for Aayna?
It's a fictional story, but… please don't go too far with your expectations. Some moments deserve to unfold slowly.
.
.
But considering my situation — three husbands and my complete lack of interest in marriage — I just wanted a bed.
"Aayna, this is the last ritual we need to do," Karan said.
And I wanted to kill him.
Yes, kill was the right word.
That was exactly what I wanted to do.
The ride back home in the name of tradition had been enough suffering for one day.
This time, I spoke.
"Isn't it already enough for today? Look at the time. We can do it in the morning," I said, smiling as I turned toward the maid, hoping she would show me my room.
"Aayna," Arun said in the sweetest voice, "this isn't a big ritual. You just have to dip your hand in paint and stamp our doors."
"I know you're tired," Varun continued. "It's a humble request to complete this ritual. My mom left this house today. After her, the house should have another lady, and this ritual signifies that…"
"Okay, I'll do this," I interrupted Varun. Otherwise, we would have stood there for another half an hour.
As soon as I said this, my husbands disappeared.
"What? I looked at their backs.
Can't they even walk with me?" I said out loud.
The servant lady laughed softly.
"Ma'am, they have to wait at their doorways for you with a gift."
"Ohhh," I said.
Am I judging them too fast? I wondered. She looked like a kind woman.
"This time, yes," she said with a smile and a very soft voice.
As we walked toward Karan's room, I asked, "What's your name?"
"Kaveri," she replied.
I visited their rooms one by one, stamping my red-painted hands on their doors, collecting the gifts, and finally — finally — I was in my room, in my bed, under a blanket.
One interesting thing I noticed was —
Karan's room was directly below mine.
Arun's room was directly above.
Varun's room was on the same floor as mine, but at the far end of the corridor.
All of them were placed at an equal distance from me.
No one was closer. No one was favored.
My room was the biggest among all the rooms I had seen.
Was it a coincidence, or was it deliberately chosen to make me feel comfortable — because I was the one expected to divide my time, my attention, and above all, my body?
Whatever the reason, I was happy about it. My life was already running according to my parents' wishes, bound by traditions even they did not know the origins of. Did those traditions have any real meaning, or were they simply created by some old man who wanted to exert his dominance?
My thoughts spiraled as my eyes finally shut after a long day.
NEXT MORNING.
Trunn....
trunn.
Trunn....
trunnn.
"Hello."