S*X IN SAREE |18+

—SOHINI—

"What did you get for us?"

Rita, Mita, and Nita swarmed around me like I was Santa Claus descending from the north pole. Their excitement buzzed in the room, almost suffocating. I placed the store-bought chocolate box on the table, the one I'd hurriedly picked up near the airport in India. Paris hadn't left me in the mood for shopping—or anything, really.

"This is their most famous local chocolate," I lied smoothly, my smile hollow.

They snatched it up. I watched them, feeling like a guest returning home, but never really belonging.

"And for me?" my father-in-law coughed, eyes expectant.

I turned and handed him a box of croissants—yes, a croissant, but not from a quaint Parisian bakery. It was from a convenience store in India.

He took a bite and chuckled, "Mmm— tastes like Paris!" And with that, he wandered off laughing, oblivious.

"What about me?" Ritwik asked.

I froze.

Vedant's face flashed across my mind like a jolt—his voice, his eyes, his unnerving presence that somehow made me feel seen. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head. No. I couldn't afford to think of him, not here. Not now.

"Am I not enough for you?" I teased, forcing a grin, tilting my head.

"More than enough, I'd say," Ritwik replied, grinning innocently, like he hadn't noticed the shift in my eyes, or the hollowness behind my words.

"Did you all miss me?" I asked, half-heartedly, as I unzipped my trolley.

"Yeah. Nobody was there to cook," he said, sprawled lazily across the bed like he had taken the nine-hour flight. "My sisters can't cook to save their lives. Baba said never to let you go anywhere again."

So that was my value. The family's personal chef.

"I'll go freshen up, then make dinner," I murmured, hoping—just hoping—he'd look at me. See the exhaustion on my face. Offer to order food. Say, 'You rest tonight, Sohini.' But he just nodded.

I turned to leave when he suddenly called out, hesitant. "Sohini—"

I paused. My heart lifted for a second. Maybe—just maybe—

"Umm—there are three buckets full of laundry. Could you do them tonight?"

His voice was soft. Almost sweet. Like he was doing me a favor by asking nicely.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard it stung. "I'm really tired."

"But I won't have anything to wear tomorrow." His voice turned into a whine, as if the situation was dire. As if his clean shirt mattered more than my aching back, my swollen feet, my hollow soul.

I gave him the fakest smile I could manage. "I'll do it."

Maybe this was my life now. Maybe this was all it would ever be.

Dinner. Dishes. Laundry. I moved like a machine. A servant.

By the time I stumbled into the bedroom, my body ached in places I didn't know could ache. Ritwik was already fast asleep, snoring softly, blissfully unaware of everything I had done, everything I felt.

"Sohini, turn off the lights—I'm trying to sleep," he mumbled, throwing a pillow over his head.

"Just a moment," I replied softly, standing still. I turned to the mirror.

Who was this woman staring back?She looked so misplaced here. Like she didn't belong in this house. In this life.

Like she was homesick in her own home.

The next morning arrived and the cycle repeated . I woke at five, did the chores, prepped the breakfast, and packed lunchboxes. Took the bus to work. The only difference was that there was no Vedant.

No gaze that lingered too long. No sarcastic smirk. No tension that made my heartbeat erratic.

At work, I approached the supervisor, feigning casual interest. "Isn't Vedant sir coming in today?"

She shook her head. "He has multiple companies to handle. Might be busy somewhere else."

I nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show.

"Until then, you'll be back at customer service—like before."

My heart sank.

She smiled. "Don't worry. Your salary won't be affected."

It wasn't the money I was worried about. It was the fact that I might never see him again.

Days passed. Then weeks. My life turned into a loop—wake, work, cook, clean, sleep. And in between all of that, I found myself peeking into his empty office. Hoping. Just hoping.

But Vedant never came back.

Maybe I should have been grateful.

He wasn't taunting me, wasn't haunting me with his presence. He wasn't making me question everything I knew about love, about desire, about my marriage.

But I wasn't grateful. I was empty. Lonely. Drifting.

Every smile I offered felt rehearsed. Every step I took felt heavy. I wasn't happy at work. I wasn't happy at home.

And no one noticed.

"You look lost. What's on your mind?" Ritwik's voice jolted me back. It was a Sunday morning, and the tea had nearly boiled over.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "I just feel—drained. No energy. No appetite."

Maybe I was missing Vedant. Maybe I was just missing being seen.

"You've been indoors a lot lately. Let me take you out," Ritwik offered with a small smile.

I gave him a faint nod. "Where? Like— a date?"

"Do you want to go on a date?" he asked, eyes searching mine.

I took a breath. "Yes."

"Alright then. Where do you want to go?"

"Maybe—a movie?"

"Okay. Be ready by four," he said, already halfway out of the kitchen.

At 4, I got dressed—jeans, a short kurti, hair pulled into a ponytail, a little bindi. Simple. Presentable. I stepped out.

"How do I look?" I asked Ritwik.

He glanced at me, frowned, then shook his head.

"You look better in a saree. And besides, Baba wouldn't like this. Jeans, really? You're a married woman, Sohini. Have some decency."

I bit the inside of my cheek, said nothing. Just turned and went to change. Vedant would've complimented me—noticed the effort, the details. But Ritwik wasn't Vedant.

And I needed to stop expecting him to be.

At least he was trying—right?

Even if it was an action film I'd never pick on my own.

The movie he booked was loud, explosive, mindless. Not my thing. I was a romance girl at heart—sometimes horror or thrillers. But he never asked. Never even tried to know what I liked. Maybe he didn't care.

Somewhere during the second car chase, I drifted off.

"Sohini. Wake up." He shook me gently. The lights had come back on. The hall was emptying.

"Didn't like it?" he asked as we stepped outside.

"It was—confusing," I admitted.

"If you hadn't fallen asleep and paid attention, you would've loved it. It was brilliant," he said—like it was my fault I didn't enjoy his favorite actor in his favorite genre.

"Next time, maybe."

I just nodded.

"Wanna go somewhere else?" he offered.

"Maybe a bookstore?"

"Sure. I need to grab a few current affairs books."

"I was thinking more—novels."

He scoffed. "Novels? Waste of time. You barely finish house chores. When will you read fiction?"

"I like them," I said quietly.

"Still a waste. You should read GK and current affairs. At least that's useful."

I didn't argue.

At the store, he picked up his books. I didn't get anything.

Later, when we got home, he asked, "Did you enjoy the date?"

I hesitated. My heart twisted.

Vedant would've known what to choose. What I liked. What I didn't. He'd never have called my passions a waste. He'd have seen me.

But Ritwik? He wasn't a bad man. Just the bad match.

He didn't look at me the way Vedant did. He didn't know me. Not even a little.

"Yes," I said, forcing a smile. "It was fun."

"Great! Now make something tasty for dinner," he grinned and walked inside.

And I just stood there. Hating the date. Hating the lie. Hating everything about this marriage that felt more like a performance than a partnership.

But this was for everyone's happiness.

And if everyone else was happy—Then maybe my unhappiness was a price worth paying.

******

The next Sunday, my parents came to visit.

They brought dried fruits and nuts, new sarees, and maa's homemade pickle. My heart soared at the sight of them—like the first rain after months of drought in a barren desert.

"Papa, Maa!" I ran to hug them. "I missed you. It's been a year since you last visited."

"We were really busy," Papa said with a warm smile.

Ritwik welcomed them in. Papa and my father-in-law, being old friends, immediately fell into their usual political debates. Maa and I went into the kitchen together.

As I boiled water for tea, she studied me for a moment before saying,

"You look pale and weak, Sohini. Is everything alright?"

I gave a tired shrug. "I don't know, Maa. I haven't been eating properly. I just don't feel like it anymore."

"When was your last period?" she asked suddenly.

"Last month—" I paused, realization hitting me. I was two weeks late. My heart dropped. Oh no.

"Are you pregnant?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and hope.

I answered before thinking. "But I haven't slept with Ritwik."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. I wanted to swallow the words back.

"What?! Why not? It's been three years! Don't you two want children?" she scolded. "Are things even okay between you two?"

I laughed awkwardly.

"Maa, everything's fine. You stress too much, really. It's probably just work stress messing with my cycle."

Another lie. Because I had slept with Vedant—my boss.

She looked concerned. "You should still see a gynecologist."

I nodded silently. We served tea, then had lunch together. As they prepared to leave, I felt a knot tighten in my chest.

"Maa, Papa, stay the night. Please. It's been so long. I've missed you both."

"Chinu is home alone," Maa hesitated.

"He's grown up now. He'll be fine," I urged.

She laughed and glanced at Papa.

"Alright, we'll stay," Papa said warmly.

But as soon as Ritwik overheard, he pulled me aside to our bedroom.

"Come here," he muttered sharply.

I followed him inside, unsettled.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"No. Nothing is okay," he snapped. "Why are your parents staying?"

I blinked, confused. "What's the issue?"

"We don't have extra bedrooms. And extra food?!"

"Are you serious right now?" My voice rose. "We have three bedrooms, Ritwik. And they don't eat like a dozen people."

"I don't know, Sohini. Baba doesn't like them staying overnight."

"Then go convince your father!" I snapped, losing my patience.

"I agree with Baba. Tell your parents to leave." His words sliced through me.

"I'm not joking. Tell them now."

I stared at him. My hands trembled. My throat burned.

"—Okay," I whispered and turned away.

I walked out, tears already forming in my eyes.

"Sohini? What happened?" Maa asked, worried.

"You have to leave," I said quietly. "Right now."

"All of a sudden?" Papa's voice cracked with confusion.

"Yes—your son-in-law doesn't like guests staying overnight. Apparently, we don't have space or food to spare."

My voice trembled as tears fell freely down my cheeks.

"Stop crying, we're leaving," Maa said gently. Papa stood in silence—too humiliated to speak.

Not one member of Ritwik's family came to see them off. It was like my parents were unwanted intruders.

I followed them to the door.

"Papa," I began, forcing a smile through my sobs, "You married me into this house because you were afraid I'd ruin your reputation, your pride. Look at me now. See how much respect your son-in-law has for you."

Papa stood still, turned to stone. He had no words.

"Sohini!" Maa scolded.

"I don't like being here!" I cried.

"This is your fate. You have to accept it," Papa said firmly.

"Then don't ever come back again."

And I slammed the door in their faces