Episode 4

The car glided through the ornate gates of the Malhotra mansion, now bathed in the soft glow of dawn. The wedding celebrations had continued late into the night, and the first rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of rose and lavender. The house, though quiet now, still held the lingering scent of marigolds and incense, a ghost of the festivities that had just concluded.

Isha stepped out of the car, her heavy lehenga rustling around her, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and trepidation. This was it. Her new home. Her new life. She looked at the grand facade, its intricate architecture seeming to watch her with ancient, knowing eyes. It was beautiful, undeniably so, but also intimidating.

Aarav’s mother, Asha Malhotra, along with a few other female relatives, stood at the entrance, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles. The traditional griha pravesh ceremony awaited. A small brass pot filled with rice was placed at the threshold, and Isha, guided by Asha Aunty, gently nudged it with her right foot, spilling the grains inwards – a symbolic gesture of prosperity entering the home. Then, she dipped her feet in a plate of vermillion and milk, leaving crimson footprints on the white marble floor as she walked inside, signifying the arrival of Goddess Lakshmi.

Each ritual was performed with meticulous care, each gesture steeped in tradition. Isha followed the instructions, her movements graceful, her mind a whirl of emotions. She was surrounded by smiling faces, by the warmth of a new family, yet a profound sense of loneliness settled over her. It was the loneliness of being a stranger in a familiar setting, of being the central figure in a grand play where she didn’t quite understand her role.

Aarav stood a little distance away, observing the ceremonies with his usual quiet demeanor. He offered no words of welcome, no reassuring glance. He was present, a silent witness to her initiation into his world, but emotionally absent. Isha longed for him to step forward, to offer a hand, a smile, anything that would make her feel less like a guest and more like a partner. But he remained in the background, a shadow in the dawn light.

After the initial ceremonies, Isha was led to her new room. It was a spacious suite, larger than her entire home in Rajasthan, adorned with rich drapes, antique furniture, and a grand four-poster bed. A large window overlooked a manicured garden, still dewy with the morning mist. On the surface, it was a dream, a room fit for a princess. But to Isha, it felt vast and empty.

“This is your room, beta,” Asha Aunty said, her voice soft. “Make yourself comfortable. The servants will bring you anything you need. You must be tired.”

Isha nodded, offering a tired smile. “Thank you, Aunty.”

She glanced around, her eyes searching. There was no sign of Aarav’s belongings, no indication that this was a shared space. A small, cold dread began to creep into her heart. Had he meant it when he said separate rooms for "comfort" during their initial meeting? She had dismissed it then as a formality, a polite way to avoid awkwardness before marriage. But now, the stark absence of his presence in the room confirmed her fear.

Asha Aunty seemed to notice her lingering gaze. “Aarav has his own study and bedroom on the other side of the wing,” she explained, her voice casual, almost too casual. “He prefers his privacy for work. But you are free to decorate this room as you wish, make it your own.”

The words, though kindly meant, landed like a blow. His own bedroom on the other side of the wing. It wasn’t just comfort; it was a clear boundary, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance that had defined their interactions. Isha felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of despair. She was married, yes, but she was also alone.

The servants, efficient and quiet, brought her fresh clothes and a light breakfast. She changed out of her heavy lehenga, feeling a sense of relief as the weight lifted. She chose a simple cotton salwar kameez, a familiar comfort in this unfamiliar place. She ate a few bites of the fruit, but her appetite had vanished.

She spent the rest of the morning exploring her new surroundings. The mansion was a labyrinth of corridors, grand halls, and smaller, more intimate sitting rooms. Each room was meticulously decorated, a testament to the Malhotra family’s history and taste. She saw family portraits, trophies, and awards, all speaking of a life of achievement and privilege. But everywhere she went, she felt like an outsider, a silent observer in a grand, silent museum.

She found the family library, a vast room lined with leather-bound books, the air thick with the scent of old paper and wood. She ran her fingers over the spines, recognizing some of the titles – classic literature, business journals, historical texts. She wondered if Aarav spent time here, if these books held the key to understanding the depths of his mind.

Later, she ventured into the garden, a sprawling expanse of manicured lawns, vibrant flowerbeds, and quiet alcoves. A small, serene koi pond reflected the clear blue sky. It was beautiful, peaceful, but still, she felt a profound sense of isolation. She missed the simple, wild beauty of her own village, the familiar faces, the comforting sounds of her mother’s laughter and her father’s gentle singing.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Asha Aunty and Devansh were present, along with Aarav’s paternal aunt. Aarav himself was absent, having left for his office early in the morning. “He’s always dedicated to his work,” Asha Aunty explained, a hint of pride in her voice. Isha nodded, a polite smile fixed on her face. She understood. Work was his refuge, his escape from the unspoken expectations of a new marriage.

Devansh, ever the observant one, tried to engage her. “Bhabhi, you must tell us about Rajasthan. I’ve always wanted to visit Jaipur.”

Isha brightened a little, speaking of the vibrant markets, the ancient forts, and the colorful festivals. She found herself relaxing in Devansh’s easy company, his genuine curiosity a welcome balm to her aching heart. He was a stark contrast to his brother, open and expressive.

As the day drew to a close, and the evening shadows lengthened across the garden, Isha found herself back in her room. The grand bed seemed to swallow her whole. She changed into her nightclothes, a simple cotton nightgown, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the darkening sky.

The silence of the mansion was profound, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves in the garden. It was a silence that echoed the silence in her heart, the unsaid words, the unmet expectations.

She thought of her first night in her childhood home, nestled safely between her parents’ rooms. She thought of the comforting sounds of their voices, the familiar scent of her mother’s cooking. Here, in this grand, opulent room, she felt utterly alone.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over Suhana’s number. She wanted to call her, to pour out her heart, to confess the overwhelming loneliness that had settled upon her. But she hesitated. What would she say? That her husband didn’t speak to her? That he had a separate room? Suhana, with her modern sensibilities, would be horrified. And Isha, despite everything, still held onto a fragile hope, a stubborn belief that things would change. She didn’t want to voice her fears, to make them real.

She lay down, pulling the silken covers over her. The bed was too soft, the pillows too plump. She missed the firm mattress of her own cot, the familiar scent of her own room. Sleep was elusive. Her mind replayed the events of the past few days: the grand wedding, the polite smiles, Aarav’s unreadable face, his brief, impersonal touch.

She was married. She was in her new home. But the man she had married, the man who was supposed to be her partner, was a stranger, separated from her by a vast, silent chasm. The journey had begun, and it was far more challenging than she had ever imagined. She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping, a silent plea for understanding, for connection, in this grand, silent new world.

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