Siya pov

The man uttered a single "Namaste," and that was it. Just one word. It was bizarre, but something fear, confusion, or just plain shockclamped my jaw shut.

I couldn’t even muster a response, let alone grill him with the "Who are you?" or "Who are you looking for?" that were screaming in my head. It has to be a prank, I tried to tell myself. People don't just show up at your doorstep for no reason.

I knew one thing for sure Chachi wasn't hearing a peep about this. I wasn’t about to shoot myself in the foot. She’d find a way to make it my fault, lecturing me about the "sin" of opening the door for a total stranger.

Then, the doorbell chimed again. Maybe he remembered his purpose, I thought, or perhaps he was just lost. I swung the door open, but the "Mr. Stranger" was gone. Standing there instead was Baba, gripping a trolley, his face etched with the weariness of travel.

A massive smile broke across my face, a wave of pure relief washing over me. It had been two long years. I expected his eyes to light up, to see a reflection of my own joy. I grabbed his luggage, ushering him in. "Come in, Baba," I said softly, quickly scurrying to fetch him a glass of water.

But as I handed it to him, the exhaustion on his face curdled into pure, unadulterated rage. He didn’t take the glass he slammed it onto the table the water sloshing violently.

"Look at yourself! What kind of get-up is this?" he thundered. "No dupatta, no suit? Is this what you wear at home now? And you had the audacity to open the front door looking like this? If it had been anyone else out there"

"Baba,  no one else was home, so I"

"Oh, so you’ve learned to back talk now, have you?"

The sheer volume of his voice felt like a physical blow. I withered. No matter how hard I try to be strong, the moment someone raises their voice, my tear ducts become leaky faucets. I hung my head, staring at the floor as my tears hit the tiles.

"Is this what the city taught you?" he continued, his words like venom. "Too much education has gone to your head, hasn't it? You don't do a lick of work, you sleep till noon are these the values your mom gave you?"

"Don't just stand there counting the floor tiles! Go and make breakfast for everyone!"

I bolted for the stairs, the tears blurring my vision. I tried to choke them back, but they were relentless. It was clear as day Chachi and Chachu had been poisoning his ears with complaints.

And He believed them.

After two years, he hadn't even asked how I was. Maybe I'm just overthinking, I tried to rationalize. He's tired. He's right I shouldn't have been so late or dressed like this.

I rushed to my room, scrubbed my face, and shoved my t-shirts and joggers into the darkest corner of the closet. My heart ached they were comfortable, and for once, I felt like myself in them. “But I shouldn’t have bought these clothes

I only bought them because Arya insisted. She said they would look good on me.” But I had to bury that feeling.

Down in the kitchen, I began the frantic dance of breakfast prep. Soon, Chachi and Chachu waltzed in, loaded down with grocery bags. The moment Chachi saw me, she switched on the charm, her voice dripping with cloying sweetness.

"Oh beta, why did you do all this alone? I would have made it! I hate seeing you work so hard," she cooed, patting my cheek.

I forced a tight smile at her fake as plastic affection. I knew better. The same hand that stroked my cheek today would leave a stinging imprint if the salt was a fraction off tomorrow. I never understood how she could flip the switch so perfectly the moment Baba was in the room.

We all sat down a rare occurrence, as I’m usually the last to eat. But as I took my first bite, Baba’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Siya, a very good proposal has come for you. They’re coming to see you this evening. Be ready."

The world tilted. The hunger in my stomach vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, leaden weight. I knew some girls got butterflies in their stomachs at the mention of marriage, but I felt like I was heading to the gallows. I didn't want this. Not with a stranger not now.

Society thinks twenty four is an expiry date for a girl, but I didn't care. I had dreams, "khwahishein" that hadn't even started yet. It stung Baba hadn't come to see me he had come to wash his hands of his responsibility.

"Siya? Are you listening?" Baba’s voice barked.

"Yes.. yes, Baba," I stammered. The "no" died in my throat. I couldn't say it. I just couldn't.

As soon as Baba and Chachu left to run errands, Chachi’s mask fell off.

"Princess, don't just leave those dishes there," she snapped, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Who’s going to clean this pigsty before the guests arrive? I’m going to nap. Make sure this place is spotless, understood?"

I spent the afternoon scrubbing, cooking, and running on fumes. By the time I collapsed on my bed, I was dead on my feet. But before I could even close my eyes, Chachi’s voice shrieked from downstairs. "There's a mountain of work and you're up there lazing around?"

I dragged myself up, my bones aching, to start the snacks. When Baba returned, he handed me a bag. "Wear this suit. The boy’s family will be here in fifteen minutes."

Before I could breathe, Chachi chimed in, "I kept telling her to rest, but look at her! She’s so excited she did all the chores herself. Pure joy!"

I looked at her, my eyes welling up again. But I didn't let them fall. Not here. I went to my room to put on the costume of a "perfect bride-to-be." I didn't have a choice in this house, my voice was just background noise.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, heart pounding, when the call finally came:

"They’re here."

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