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"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to come home...................."

After a long day at school, Shubhita was surprised to receive an invitation from her HOD for an after-school party. It was her HOD’s wedding anniversary, and she had invited everyone. Shubhita felt it would be impolite to decline, especially given the supportive environment her colleagues had always provided. She couldn’t afford to say no, despite her overwhelming fatigue.

With a sense of urgency, she tried to call her mother-in-law to inform her about the party. Unfortunately, no one answered the call.

Hoping for some understanding, she dropped a text to Jeevika, hoping that she would convey the message.

After the party, which provided a brief respite from her gruelling routine, Shubhita returned home, bracing herself for the possible reaction since it got quite late.

As she stepped through the door, she was immediately confronted by her mother-in-law’s icy glare. “Where have you been?” Mrs. Kashyap demanded, her voice cold and accusatory.

“I... I had an after-school party to attend which I couldn't afford to not attend,” Shubhita stammered, trying to explain. “I tried calling you and texted Jeevika Bhabhi to let you know.”

Jeevika, sensing the brewing storm, quickly intervened. “Maa, I didn’t see the message until much later. You very well know that the kids often have my phone and sometimes they just ignore texts while playing games.”

Her mother-in-law was unmoved. her tone sharp and unforgiving. “Do you think you can just come and go as you please?” She continued, her anger escalating. “This is a house, not a hotel. This might have been acceptable at your parents’ house, but not here. You are not a guest here. This is not how a daughter-in-law should behave. You have responsibilities here.”

Shubhita felt a wave of frustration and helplessness. “I’m doing my best to balance everything, Maa. Please don't drag my parents or my house in this.” she said, her voice cracking under the strain.

“Your best isn’t good enough,” Mrs. Kashyap retorted. “And that’s not an excuse. This is not how things work here, Shubhita. You can’t just disappear without proper notice. Texting is not enough. You should have made sure I knew where you were.”

“I’m sorry, Maa. I really tried.” Shubhita said, trying to defend herself. “I’ll be more careful next time,” she added, her voice shaking.

“There shouldn’t have to be a next time, Shubho. You need to learn your place here,” her mother-in-law said harshly, her voice rising. “You should have called me until I picked up. This kind of behavior won’t be tolerated. You are a daughter-in-law now, and your primary duty is towards this family.”

Jeevika remained silent, her face carefully blank. She couldn’t afford to take sides and risk being in her mother-in-law’s bad books.

Shubhita felt tears stinging her eyes but blinked them away. “I apologize, Maa. I’ll do better,” she said, struggling to keep her composure.

“Apologies won’t suffice,” her mother-in-law continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “You need to understand that this family runs on respect and discipline. Your parents might have let you do whatever you wanted, but things are different here.”

With a final huff, her mother-in-law turned and left the room, leaving Shubhita standing there, feeling more alone than ever. Jeevika glanced at her, offering a neutral look before following her mother-in-law.

The argument left Shubhita feeling more isolated than ever. She retreated to her room, fighting back tears. The weight of expectations was crushing her spirit, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the facade.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, feeling the weight of her new reality pressing down on her. The silence in the room was deafening, a stark contrast to the chaos she felt inside. She fought back tears, but they came anyway, hot and relentless, streaming down her cheeks.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she thought back to her parents’ home, the warmth and comfort of their embrace. She remembered how her mother would always greet her with a smile, no matter how late she came home, and how her father would playfully scold her for missing meals but always had a plate ready. Her younger brother Shubh’s merciless teasing and the sound of his laughter echoed in her mind, making her heart ache with longing.

She missed those small, loving gestures that had made her feel so cherished and understood. The late-night chats with her mother, where they would share their dreams and worries. The way her father would leave her favourite sweets on the kitchen counter, just to see her smile. She missed the chaos, the laughter, the unspoken bond of a family that truly cared for one another. Here, she felt like an outsider, constantly judged and never good enough. Everything was so tasteless and monotonous. People over here functioned like machines, devoid of human emotions and softness.

Shubhita’s eyes wandered around the room, landing on a photograph of Vatsal on the opposite wall. She stared at his face, her vision blurred by tears. She missed him too, though she wouldn’t admit it to herself. In that photograph, he looked so carefree and happy, a stark contrast to what she got habitual to find him in. She wondered if he ever thought about her, if he missed her presence in his life. Missing her presence was still far, question was, did he even acknowledge her presence in his life?

The thought of calling him crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She knew what the conversation would be like—stilted, awkward, and ultimately disappointing. He had his own life in Noida, his own worries and stresses. She doubted he even noticed her worries and stresses.

Feeling utterly alone, she curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. She wished she could turn back time, return to the days when life was simpler and her heart was lighter. But those days felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

As she lay there, the memories of her parents’ home continued to flood her mind, a bittersweet reminder of everything she had lost. She whispered into the darkness, hoping the words would somehow reach them. “I miss you, Maa, Papa. I miss you, Shubh. I miss you, my home.”

The tears continued to fall, soaking the pillow beneath her. She felt the emptiness of the room, the silence pressing in on her like a heavy weight. She was surrounded by walls that felt like a prison, with no one to turn to for comfort or understanding. The loneliness was suffocating, and she wondered how much longer she could endure it.

_

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_

That same morning, Vatsal was up early, his mind already racing with the tasks awaiting him at work. The bike drive to the news channel in Noida was still filled with his sour thoughts about the phone call from his father and the growing tension at home. Despite being accustomed to his father’s disappointment, the added pressure of being compared to Shubhita made him feel even more inadequate.

At the news channel, Vatsal’s day was relentless. Meetings followed by editorial reviews, planning sessions, and broadcast preparations left him with little time to catch his breath. He prided himself on his professionalism, but today, the strain was evident. The broadcasting committee was particularly difficult, scrutinizing every detail of the upcoming segments.

“Vatsal, the content for the evening bulletin needs a complete overhaul,” one of the committee members said sharply during a meeting. “The angle you’re proposing isn’t engaging enough.”

Vatsal clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. “But, Chief, we’ve been working on this for weeks. Changing it now would delay the broadcast.”

“We don’t have a choice,” another member added. “The viewership is down, and we need something more compelling. Make it happen.”

After the meeting, Vatsal returned to his office, feeling a deep sense of dissatisfaction. He had poured his effort into the segment, and now it was being dismissed without consideration. He felt unheard and undervalued, much like how he felt at home.

The disagreements with the broadcasting committee continued throughout the day, each one chipping away at his patience. By the time he was done, he was exhausted and demoralized. Nothing seemed to be going right—neither at work nor in his personal life.

Later that evening, Vatsal returned to his apartment, his mind a whirlwind of negative thoughts. The small, cluttered space felt oppressive, reflecting his state of mind. He loosened his tie and collapsed onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him.

In an attempt to numb the frustration and disappointment, he reached for a bottle of whiskey he kept in the kitchen cabinet. Drinking was an occasional indulgence for him, a way to escape when things became too overwhelming. Tonight, he needed that escape more than ever.

He poured himself a generous glass and took a long sip, savoring the burn as it went down. The alcohol offered a temporary reprieve from his thoughts, dulling the edge of his worries. He sank deeper into the couch, staring blankly at the television without really watching it.

As the night wore on, he drank more, each glass blurring the lines between his frustrations and reality. He thought about the argument with his father, the constant feeling of not being good enough. Why did everything feel so wrong? Why couldn’t he find a moment of peace?

He poured another drink, the room spinning slightly as he raised the glass to his lips. His mind wandered to Shubhita, wondering if she was feeling as lost and alone as he was. But the thought only deepened his sense of failure.

As the bottle emptied, so did his resolve. He lay back on the couch, his thoughts growing hazy. The day’s events, the harsh words from his father, the endless demands at work—all of it faded into a dull ache as he slipped into a troubled sleep, the glass slipping from his hand and rolling onto the floor.

In the silence of his apartment, Vatsal was left with his own thoughts and the lingering taste of whiskey, a temporary escape that offered no real solution. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, but for now, he could only drift into an uneasy slumber, hoping for some semblance of peace.

_

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_

It was half past twelve at night, and Shubhita lay awake, her mind still churning with the events of the day. The argument with her mother-in-law echoed in her ears, each harsh word replaying over and over. She thought about the freedom her parents had always given her—the liberty to make her own choices, to be the mistress of her own will. Here, in her new home, she felt more like a puppet, expected to dance to the tune of her in-laws’ expectations. The incident with Jeevika’s betrayal stung the most. A woman betraying another woman like that—how could she?

Unable to find solace in her thoughts, she hesitantly picked up her phone and dialled Vatsal’s number. The first call went unanswered, and her heart sank a little more. She felt so alone. She redialled, desperate for some much needed clarity. This time, the call was answered, but the voice on the other end was unrecognizable.

“Hello?” Vatsal’s voice slurred, not with sleep but with alcohol. He didn’t seem in his senses, and the realization hit Shubhita like a blow.

“Vatsal, it’s me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Are you okay?”

“Shubhita!” he exclaimed, his tone unnaturally cheerful. “My perfect wife! How’s the golden girl?”

“Vatsal, have you been drinking?” she asked, taken aback, her worry deepening. He never talked like that.

“Drinking? Oh, just a little,” he admitted with a chuckle that sent a chill down her spine. “What’s the big deal? I’m just celebrating... something. I’m celebrating my failures and your victories, my not so dear wife.”

“Vatsal, it’s late. You need to sleep,” she said, trying to keep calm.

“You’re always so serious, Shubhita. This isn’t your classroom and I’m obviously not your student.” he replied, his tone shifting to something more mocking. “Don’t expect me to obey your commands! Try this with your students only.”

Shubhita felt a surge of frustration and sadness. “Vatsal, please. I had a rough day. I called because I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk? About what? How you’re so perfect at everything?” he sneered, the words cutting her deeply. “You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger, haven’t you?”

Her heart ached at his words. “Vatsal, please. Be in senses.” She replied, her voice faltering. “I wasn’t commanding. I said that cause I’m worried for you.”

“Save your worry, Ma’am,” he shot back. “You made me stuck with all this nonsense and you say you’re worrying.”

“That’s not fair and true, Vatsal,” she protested, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Life isn’t fair, Shubhita,” he retorted coldly. “You’ve always had it easy. Everything was handed to you on a silver platter.”

Her breath caught in her throat, hurt and anger mixing within her. “I’ve worked hard for everything. Nothing was served to me on a silver platter. Please!,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. “Do you understand that?”

“Understand? Who? You?... You’ve got it all, Shubhita. Dad’s support, his ear, everything. I never got that. You waltz in and suddenly you’re the star. The goddess. The untouchable epitome of virtues.”

“What are you saying, Vatsal? Alcohol do this to you?”

“Saying what?” he scoffed. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you being like this?” she asked, her voice trembling with hurt.

“Like what? Honest?” he shot back, his tone turning venomous. “You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? All smiles and charm for everyone else, but inside, you’re just like Vishal. You're an absolute... Well, you yourself know about your own self better. Why should I bother to say anything against your supreme self?”

Her mind was reeling, a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief swirling within her. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Then what did you sign up for?” he challenged, his tone laced with bitterness.

“To be your wife,” she said softly, tears streaming down her face. “To share a life with you.”

“A life?” he scoffed. “What life? This isn't a life. It's is a joke, Shubhita. A sad, pathetic joke.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Shubhita staring at her phone in disbelief. The man she thought she had married, the man she had started to open up to, had revealed a side of himself that was cruel and hurtful. She felt utterly alone, trapped in a life that seemed to offer no escape.

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This is it for now. Hope you liked it. I am sorry for the mistakes.

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