Anguish & Affection

Part 12

Diya spoke into the phone, her voice barely above a whisper. She struggled to stifle her sobs as she heard her mother's voice on the other end of the line.

Shanthi's heart skipped a beat, her stomach churning with dread. "Diya! Where are you?! How are you?!" she screeched, voice shaking and hollow from repressed tears. A broken sob escaped her throat as she heard Diya's voice on the other end, labored breaths cutting through the phone line like a sharp knife.

Diya's gaze became a searing laser beam that locked onto the man responsible for her fate. A hateful, pinning glare that burned with rage and indignation. Her voice was no longer sardonic but sharp like a blade as she spat out two venomous words, "I don't know!"

As Shanthi marched towards the room where her husband and former allies were conversing about their plan to rescue Diya without jeopardizing their assets, she asked, "Are you still with him?"

She answered with an affirmative, savoring the way he squirmed beneath her censorious look. Her contempt for him only grew stronger with every second that passed, instead of waning as he had hoped.

Shanthi's voice quivered as she asked, pleading desperately for a negative answer. "Did he... did he try to force you?", her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer as she awaited the response from her daughter with trepidation. The air seemed to thicken around them, heavy and oppressive as if time itself was waiting with baited breath for the answer.

Diya fought back the tears as she remembered every painful second of the last few hours. The man had inflicted a living hell upon her, but she knew that was not what her mother wanted to hear. Every breath was filled with fear and anguish, yet despite her terror she continued to find the strength to endure.

Her mother's inquiry hung in the air, and she knew her pregnant pause would have been difficult for her to bear. Breaking the silence, she spoke up. "No. How are you?" The query was her way of telling her mom that her hushed reply was not a confirmation.

"Barely alive and escaping from the onslaught of this guilt. We should have never agreed to the marriage in the past. We should not have allowed them to take advantage of our situation," lamented Shanthi, her feet slowing down as the emotions took the reins of her self.

Diya felt the searing heat of rage course through her veins as she faced her mother. With a trembling voice, she questioned "You never told me. Why?", knowing that even her own mother had consented to her child-marriage. Betrayal filled her heart and anguish flooded every inch of her body, for she realized it was the same ignorance which had enabled him to ensnare her in his cruel web.

The air in the room was hazy with remorse and Shanthi's voice was heavy with contrition as she despondently uttered, "Beta, we thought that shielding you from this dreadful reality would save us all. But it is impossible to hide the truth anymore." Grief weighed down her heart like a leaden anvil as she lamented their bitter failure.

Diya bit her lip as her mind raced, a thousand thoughts cascading through her mind. She could feel the words threatening to burst out of her mouth, but she knew that once uttered they would tear apart the already fragile relationship between her parents and herself. In a trembling voice she finally spoke, "I will have this phone with me, Maa. I will call you later," praying that Atharv Singh Chauhan wouldn't detect the deepening cracks in their relationship or else he'd certainly take delight in it.

Atharv stepped away from the wall and remarked, "I figured you would talk to your dad,"

To which Diya quickly responded, "I'm sure that would have been dreadful for you." She took a deep breath as she tried to steady her nerves.

"I'm sure you wouldn't care, but if it does, I will make an exception. Talk to him," Atharv suggested as she crossed her arms and studied him with a wise and understanding look.

Diya's stare became a cutting icicle, freezing him with her piercing gaze. She challenged him with her arms crossed defiantly, an exact and mocking mimicry of his own posture. With disdain in her voice she sneered, "Or maybe you want him to feel helpless listening to his daughter but unable to save her from your menace. Maybe you want to cherish that utter helplessness."

Atharv's face contorted as Diya's blatant distrust of him filled the room. "Well, you are not wrong," he replied through gritted teeth. "But if I wanted just that, I could record any conversation of ours and send it to him. Mind you," he continued, his voice rising in intensity, "it would have been more impactful in the way you have described. This is for you, Diya," Atharv said, his breath coming in desperate gasps, "speak to him!" each word reverberating with resigned exasperation.

"No," she snarled, her voice dripping with scorn. "But there is someone I would like to speak to: your parents. What do they think of their son shackling their family friend's daughter in captivity?" She leant forward, her eyebrow arched in challenge as she watched a flicker of pain and rage wash over him before his features hardened into apathy.

His voice was heavy as he said, "You cannot. They are no more."

She had never wanted to accept the fact, pushing it into the deepest corner of her heart and locking away the key. But, now, that far-fetched thought had become a reality; she could not deny anymore. Pity for him washed over her like a wave of sadness, and all she could do was stand in front of him, speechless.

Her voice shook in tremors of despair as she uttered the single word. "How?" Every moment of her past seemed to be stained with a thick darkness, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had been done on purpose. The countless memories swirling around in her jumbled mind left her dizzy and overwhelmed.

He stumbled forward, his breath sharp and labored, as if the weight of his secrets had pushed him into a state of exhaustion. "Gone," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "disappeared right after you left the country. It feels like a decade but sometimes it feels like an eternity," he confessed, pulling her close for an embrace that was filled with confusion and desperation, hoping desperately that her questions would be forgotten in its wake.

She burned with anger, knowing that the answer he had given her was not the full truth. He knew she would be quick to reject it and accuse him of maliciously attempting to torment her, and he desperately wanted to avoid that fate.

Her love from before and newfound empathy for his situation spilled over into an overwhelming surge of hatred for their current conflict. She contemplated whether the death of his loved ones had warped his perspective on life into something so corrupted and dangerous. He spoke of them as if they had passed away right after she had left, which made her question if he had been trying in vain to meet their final request in a misguided way.

Unbeknownst to her, what she thought was a wish for their future sealed into a pyre had instead ignited a blazing fire of revenge within him. It consumed him with such an intensity that only another funeral could quell the inferno it had kindled.