Anika sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her white shawl, holding it close as though it were her only shield. The room felt too quiet, too foreign. The faint sound of rain outside, the muted footsteps from the corridor, the distant clink of dishes from the kitchen — all of it reminded her she wasn't home.
Not that she had a home anymore.
Her eyes wandered to the closed door. Aadhi was here tonight. She took some comfort in that — in his presence, in the faint security of knowing her brother was close. But tomorrow, he would leave. Abroad. Higher studies, he had said. After that, it would be just her in this house with a stranger. And stranger, especially a man, unsettled her.
She tried to calm herself, to push the tension out of her shoulders. She told herself there was no reason to be afraid. Yet the memory of a few hours ago still clung to her like damp cloth — Vikram's sudden appearance beside her on the balcony, his deep voice asking if she liked the view.
She had nodded, her throat too tight for words. His presence was solid, overwhelming. She had felt his gaze on her even when he turned to look at the scenery outside, and it had made her pull her shawl tighter around herself. The instinct had been automatic, protective. And then, before he could say anything else, she had left. She didn't want to risk the weight of another conversation with him.
She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She needed to get rid of this fear. It was exhausting, living like a trapped bird, flinching at every shadow. But fear wasn't something she could simply will away — not after everything.
A sudden wave of nausea rolled through her. It wasn't violent, but enough to make her sit still until it passed. Her stomach felt unsettled, the back of her throat bitter.
She exhaled slowly. It wasn't new — she'd been feeling this way for weeks. But she had ignored it until now. There had been no room to think about her body before. Not when her days had been consumed by humiliation, whispered curses, the lingering stench of leering gazes, and filthy comments muttered in dark alleys or across market stalls. Those days after Rajan's death — and his father's, too — had been a nightmare she could barely think about without her chest tightening.
Back then, her mind had been occupied with survival, with enduring the filth the world threw at her when it thought she was powerless and alone. She had not noticed, or perhaps had not allowed herself to notice.
But now… now she was far from those streets, away from the prying eyes. The walls here were quiet, the air cleaner. And in the silence, her body's whispers became harder to ignore.
She rose slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cool floor as she made her way to the cupboard. Her fingers lingered on the handle for a moment before she pulled it open, searching for a strip of nausea tablets she remembered keeping somewhere in the back when she arranged her cupboard in the afternoon.
Something else slipped free.
A package of sanitary napkins tumbled out and landed softly at her feet.
Her breath caught.
She stared at the package as if it were an intruder. For a moment, she didn't move, her mind oddly blank. Then, with a hesitant motion, she bent down and picked it up, her fingers trembling slightly.
She hadn't used these in…
Her mind stilled as the realization hit.
It had been months. Almost two months since she last needed one. She tried to remember the dates, counting backward in her head, but the numbers tangled together. She had never been irregular — not once since her first period. The calendar in her mind had always been predictable, reliable. Until now.
Her skin prickled, a cold shiver running up her spine.
She sank down onto the bed, the packet still in her hands. Her breath felt shallow, her chest tight.
No.
No, it couldn't be.
Her mind jumped back — not to the chaos after Rajan's death, but to the night before it.
The monsoon had been in full force, sheets of rain lashing against the old wooden shutters of their small house. She had been restless, the storm keeping her awake. Rajan had sat beside her, his presence warm and quiet. They had been married for a short while, but their marriage had been… careful. Respectful. They had never crossed certain boundaries. She had thought they would have years to grow into those things.
But that night, something had shifted. Maybe it was the way the world outside felt so far away behind the storm, maybe it was the way he had looked at her with a softness that held no malice.
He had touched her hand first, then her cheek. There had been no rush, no demand — only warmth. They had lain together, their bodies fitting in a way that made her feel safe. She had not thought of it as anything beyond closeness.
And then…
For the first time, they had crossed that line. He had held her close, their bodies pressed together in the dark, sharing a wet night filled with warmth and whispered promises.
It had been their first — and only — night like that. The next day, he was gone.
She had buried that night deep beneath the grief, the rituals, the survival. It had been easier to pretend it never happened, to focus only on the loss. But now, with the silent packet in her hands and the hollow in her body where her cycles used to be, the memory came rushing back with a force she could not push away.
Her hands tightened around the napkin packet until the plastic crinkled.
If… if she was right…
Her eyes stung. She didn't know if it was fear or something else. She had no one to ask, no one to guide her. Aadhi didn't know — he must never know, not now. And Vikram… no. She couldn't even let herself think of his name in this moment.
Her body shivered, not from the cold, but from the weight of the thought pressing down on her.
Two months.
She placed the packet back in the cupboard with mechanical precision, shutting the door as though closing it could also close the truth. She curled back onto the bed, her shawl pulled tight again, the rain outside masking the uneven rhythm of her breathing.
The nausea returned faintly, but she ignored it. What was nausea compared to the storm rising inside her?