Trisha

Five years back

I woke up to the faint buzzing of my phone, my head throbbing, my entire body aching, feeling sore as hell.

Reaching blindly for the phone, I buried my head into the pillow and, without even bothering to check who it was, answered in a groggy whisper.

“Hello?”

“A-… Trisha? Beta?”

The voice on the other end made the sleep evaporate from my system in an instant.

“Mom?… Is Dad okay?” I asked, my heart skipping.

“He’s fine, beta. Are you still sleeping? Are you okay?” she asked gently.

I pushed myself off the bed, wincing as pain shot through my body, quickly reaching for my clothes. My eyes fell on the mattress—stained with blood from last night. My stomach twisted. I stripped the sheet off immediately and threw it into the bathroom before forcing words out.

“I-… I’m fine, Mom…”

“You don’t sound fine, beta. You sound… tired.”

“Why did you call so early, Mom?” I asked, trying to sound normal.

“Your father was asking about you, beta… it would be so nice if you could visit us. It’s been so long.”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask Neeraj, Mom. He came home drunk last night. He wouldn’t listen…” I whispered.

“If you can’t, beta, then maybe we can—”

“Mom, you know he doesn’t like it when you all come here. Especially when Dad is sick. His mother will make it hell. I’m afraid he’ll only find more reasons to demand dowry and gifts.”

“It’s no big deal, beta—”

“It is for me, Mom!” I snapped, my voice breaking. “Dad is sick. You all need the money. I’ll… I’ll try to visit in a few days. Maybe next week, okay?”

“Why not tomorrow? We’re nearby anyway. That way it won’t bother them.”

My breath hitched. Tomorrow? I can’t. Not like this…

I glanced at the mirror, and my throat closed. Bite marks. Bruises. Scars from last night.

“Now is not a good time, Mom,” I whispered.

“Beta… please. Next week, we’re thinking of going to the U.S. for your father’s treatment. Just meet us before we leave.”

Frustration boiled in my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see them—God, I did—but the daily humiliation, the constant torment, was eating me alive. I was barely holding on.

“I can’t, Mom—”

“Just ask him, beta.”

“What do you think? That I haven’t tried? Why do you want to see me? To see how miserable I’ve been? I’m in hell, Mom! And if you really want to make things easier for me, if you have even an ounce of sympathy for your own daughter, then stop this—please!” My voice cracked as anger and grief bled together. “And if you really want to see how miserable I am… then look at the picture I’m going to send you!”

I cut the call, grabbed my phone with trembling hands, and took a picture of my bruised reflection. My chest heaved as I sent it to her before throwing the phone onto the bed and rushing into the bathroom.

Turning on every tap, I sat down under the shower, curling into myself as the water cascaded over me. I buried my sobs in my arms, muffling the sounds. If anyone heard, they would make a bigger deal out of it.

I wept, hugging myself, scrubbing at the dried blood between my legs. Neeraj never held back. The pain in my body was unbearable, but the pain in my soul… that was worse.

How did I end up like this?

Five years ago, I was happy. I finally got my college degree, and dreams of starting my own business danced before me. I even confessed to Dad, believing he would support me like he always had. He always did. Every little ambition of mine—he encouraged.

But this time… they used it against me.

Neeraj and his family promised they’d support my business, and Dad saw in them a chance to expand with their company. It was never about me. It was a deal.

That’s why he raised me? For this?

But he was wrong.

The very first night of my marriage proved it. Neeraj didn’t even wait a single day before showing his true colors. I had screamed, begged him to stop, but he didn’t. He never did. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted—and I had no choice but to obey.

Sit the way he wanted. Stand the way he wanted. Eat the way he wanted. Speak the way he wanted. Sleep when he wanted.

What changed wasn’t him. It was me.

Is this what being a wife means?

Ten days later, the demands started. Money. Cars. Luxury. Plots.

And now, my father’s company is bankrupt—because he thought these men would take care of me.

“Neeraj is a good man…” he’d told me. “You have to be a good wife. They’ll give you a roof over your head and feed you.”

That’s what the women whispered at my wedding, too.

But now… now, I was broken.

Still, I had no right to be angry at them. Dad was already suffering enough.

Regret clung to me like poison. I shouldn’t have done what I did.

Dragging myself out of the bathroom, I wrapped a robe around me, cleaned the traces of tears from my face, and deleted the picture from my phone. But it was too late—Mom had already seen it.

With a heavy heart, I typed: Sorry, Mom. I’ll try to visit tomorrow.

She had already seen me miserable. There was no use hiding it anymore. And God, I was aching to cry in her arms again. I missed her warmth so badly…

Changing into a plain saree, I filled vermillion into the parting of my hair, then searched for my nuptial chain. Neeraj had torn it off last night. I found it lying in a corner, the beads scattered. My throat tightened.

Placing it carefully in my jewelry box, I took out another one and wore it.

I should sneak into the kitchen since I overslept. I believe a lecture for not showing up at breakfast is already waiting for me.

“Aaahhh… aaiye, aaiye Maharani ji… aapke pawan charan se toh hamara kitchen dhanya ho gaya…”

(“Ahhh… please come, Your Highness… with the touch of your holy feet, our kitchen has been blessed…”)

His mother spat the words with venom.

I winced. “M-ma… I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Arrey nahi, nahi… aapko neend mein vighna nahi padna chahiye na… Maharani din bhar majdoori jo karti hai.”

(“Oh no, no… we mustn’t disturb your precious sleep, right? After all, our queen works so hard all day long.”)

I turned around, lowering my head. She rolled her eyes.

“What’s with this? Huh? Now what did you do to anger my son this time?” she snapped.

I lowered my head further. “I just wanted to—”

“I don’t care!” she barked. “Start preparing lunch. Because of your lazy ass, I had to prepare breakfast. What am I, your slave?”

“Sorry, Mom…” I murmured, immediately scrambling inside to gather ingredients for lunch.

“I also invited some guests. Don’t you dare show your face to them—you’re a shame to this family. I regret the day you came into this house. Should’ve chosen someone else; at least then I wouldn’t have to face this embarrassment…”

She shoved a list of dishes into my hands.

Palak Paneer

Malai Kofta

Fried Rice

Samosas

Sweets

“They’ll be here in two hours,” she said coldly.

“B-but, Ma—”

Her glare silenced me. “Don’t tell me you expect me to help. There isn’t much to do.”

“There are still a few things we need to prepare these dishes,” I whispered.

“Then go get them.”

“Ma, it’ll be impossible to cook everything in just two hours. You should’ve told me earlier.”

“Not my fault your lazy ass was asleep. I would’ve told you in the morning. Now it’s your problem. I want everything perfect when the guests arrive.”

She did it on purpose.

“Can we at least order a few dishes? Mom, I can’t prepare all this in two hours—”

“And who’s going to pay for it? What do you think we’re made of, money?” she hissed.

I gritted my teeth and inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. I quickly made a secondary list of items we still needed, handing it to one of the maids. While she went to fetch them, I began preparing whatever was possible with the ingredients already in the kitchen.

But how on earth was I supposed to prepare sweets in one hour when even the main course wasn’t ready?

Suddenly, the clamoring of voices outside reached me.

How many people did she invite?

I peeked from behind the curtain and froze. Nearly twenty people.

She had only given me a list of five or six names.

I bit down the scream rising in my throat. She had deliberately given me a short list so that when the food came up short, she could blame me.

Without wasting another second, I began preparing another round of the main course.

Soon, Malini returned with the items I had asked for.

“Didi, bahar toh bahut saare log hain…”

(“Sister, there are so many people outside…”)

“I know… she gave us a short list. It’s okay, I’ll manage,” I whispered.

“I’ll start preparing the batter for the sweets,” she said softly, joining me in the chaos.

“Trisha!” her shrill voice pierced through the walls. “Guests are here! Serve them juice or something! What are you doing? And why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Starters are almost ready, Ma. Until they—”

“Juice!!” she snapped, storming out. “And make sure lunch is ready for them!”

I opened the fridge, hastily pulling out lemons to prepare lemonade. Handing the jug to Malini, I whispered for her to serve it quickly.

I arranged the starter plates and forced myself outside, serving the guests.

Their faces grimaced the moment they saw me. I didn’t even bother to hide my own. Everyone already knew what kind of woman she was, and most of them weren’t much different.

“What happened to your face, beta?” one woman asked.

“I… I slipped in the bathroom,” I muttered.

“Clumsy girl. Did you see a doctor?”

I nodded weakly.

“You should be resting, no? Come, sit with us,” she said, patting the couch.

“N-no… it’s fine. I’ll bring lunch,” I said, escaping before my mask crumbled.

“Oh wow, Shanta! You’ve got yourself a strong daughter-in-law. Nowadays, if girls cut even a finger, they don’t step out of their rooms,” another woman snickered.

“Arrey nahi, nahi… Maharani is the same as the rest. When she first came from her house, she wouldn’t even step foot in the kitchen. But thanks to my sanskars, we’ve straightened her out.”

“Seems I should send my daughter-in-law to you for training too,” another mocked, making the group burst into laughter.

Are they really women? How can they be so cruel?

I suppose they had faced the same once—and instead of breaking the chain, they chose to continue it. Passing the curse down, justifying it as tradition.

Their laughter echoed in my head as I walked back into the kitchen, my hands trembling.

After serving lunch, I collapsed onto the cold floor of the kitchen, trying to catch my breath. Malti sat beside me, offering me a plate of food.

I shook my head. “I have to serve them.”

“I’ll do it, Didi. You haven’t eaten since morning. Please,” she insisted, placing the plate in my lap and hurrying out before I could argue.

My body was screaming with hunger, so I shoveled the food in, ashamed of how I ate like a thief—the very food I had cooked with my own hands.

“Aree, vo Maharani kya kar rahi hai! Tu ja, use bhej!”

(“Hey, what is that Queen doing? Go, send her here!”)

Her sharp voice echoed from outside.

I pushed the plate aside, took a quick sip of water, and rushed back out.

But it didn’t end after lunch. Next came tea. Then snacks. Then dinner.

I was kept chained to the kitchen the entire day, while Malti was sent on useless errands so she couldn’t help me.

It was all deliberate.

Another day. Another labor. Another punishment disguised as duty.

By the time the last guest left, it was nearly midnight. I had done nothing but cook and clean.

I wiped down the counters with trembling hands, as though I could erase my pain along with the stains. When I finally stepped outside, I saw her—in a surprisingly good mood.

Should I ask?

I’m already in hell anyway.

Hesitantly, I approached her. “Ma… can I go see Dad? He’s really sick. I promise I’ll come back soon. Just one hour, if that’s all it takes…”

She laughed coldly. “You never learn, do you? Let that old hag die. What good has he ever been for us? We brought you into this house thinking he’d help us in hard times, and he can’t even buy us decent gifts.”

“He gave you everything you asked for!” I spat before I could stop myself.

Her eyes darkened. “Am I hearing tone?” she hissed, walking to the stove and picking up the barbecue tongs.

A violent shiver ran down my spine.

“M-ma… please, just one hour. That’s all I ask. Please…” I begged, my voice trembling.

“Alright,” she said after a pause, her smile cruel. “You can go—if your husband approves.”

She turned and walked away.

I sighed. My chest felt heavy.

I can’t risk with Neeraj what I risked with her. If he came home drunk tonight…

God, I’m so tired.

PRESENT DAY

“Uh… ma’am, we’re closing soon…”

I blinked out of my thoughts as I heard him.

Why do I always zone out like this?

I looked at him.

“So if you’re not gonna order then I’m gonna have to—”

“What’s the special on the menu?” I interrupted, meeting his gaze.

He blinked, caught off guard, and reached into his apron pocket.

“Uh… it’s… uh…” he stammered, pulling out another special menu card and handing it to me.

I took it and skimmed through. Mostly sweet milkshakes and fusion shakes with ice cream. My weakness. Sweets were my undoing.

“I’ll have two of these,” I said, pointing at the chocolate lava pastries, “and a few of the ginger nuts.” I handed the menu back.

He nodded quickly and walked inside.

I still couldn’t believe he was running a café. He never really liked the cooking part—he always loved the eating part.

The café was warm, cozy. The comforting scent lingered in the air, reminding me of the same fragrance that clung to his house. His mother really was a magician in the kitchen. Should I tell them the truth?

I scoffed under my breath.

They’ll find out anyway.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed him glancing at me.

I smirked.

From the moment I got here, I felt someone’s gaze, but I thought it was the people keeping an eye on Shourya…

After a good while, I saw him approaching with my order.

I never imagined he’d run a bakery or a café. I remembered when we were dating—he was preparing for some fancy engineering college.

And now… this.

I couldn’t help but wonder—was I the reason he gave up on those studies?

The clink of plates in front of me pulled me out of my thoughts.

As he turned to leave, I spoke up.

“Well, this place looks cozy. Looks like you chose peace over chaos,” I said, my tone casual but edged with curiosity. “I thought you wanted to be a businessman? But this…” my gaze swept around the café, “…this is way too simple.”

He looked back at me, and his smile gave it away.

“Hi, Akku,” I said softly.

He bit down on his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a smile. Then he nodded, impressed.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“The moment you walked through that door,” he said smoothly. “Sorry. Just wanted to see how long it’d take you.”

Asshole.

I scoffed, lips twitching into an amused smile. “Join me,” I said, dipping my chin toward the extra pastry.

“Ohhh, so that’s for me?” he teased.

“If you want,” I said lightly.

I vaguely remembered—it used to be his favorite.

He sat down with a grin. “So, how are you?”

“How do I look?” I asked, expecting his usual cocky retort, a compliment laced with arrogance.

But he said nothing.

And that silence… it made me uncomfortable.

I swallowed hard, cutting into the pastry and taking a bite.

The flavors exploded in my mouth. Sweetness. Richness. It should’ve reminded me of good things. Sweet things. But I couldn’t remember the last time I had tasted anything sweet in my life that didn’t come with bitterness clinging to it.

“not good?” he asked, studying me.

“Oh… no, it’s nice,” I said flatly.

"im not talking about the cake.." he said

my breath cought

every fiber in my living screamed at me to tell him

tell him right away

i gulped

“You didn’t answer,” he pressed, taking a bite himself.

“No, you didn’t,” I countered quickly, raising a brow as I bit into a cookie. “Tell me—what happened to the whole businessman dream?”

He shrugged. “You know, things don’t always go the way we want them to.”

Those words hit harder than I wanted them to.

“You can say that again,” I muttered, my voice sharper than I intended.

He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. “So… what brings you back to town? I thought you’d never show your face here again.”

With a deep breath, I said it. “I’m starting my own company. I want you to be the face of it. The chairman and CEO.”

His brows furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Is that really a surprise?” I asked.

He smirked faintly. “I thought you wanted to be a detective,” he teased.

This man…

I grabbed a stack of tissues and threw them at him. He dodged easily, laughing.

“Why not be the face yourself? You’ve got a good one,” he winked.

“I have other things to do. I need someone to handle the company side for me. At first, I thought of collaborating with you—like I’m doing with the Kashyaps—”

His head snapped up. “Wait. Abhishek Kashyap?”

I nodded. “Yes. But then I found out you’re running a café… so, consider this a little favor.” I winked.

He clenched his jaw slightly, then tilted his head, giving me a faint smile.

“I don’t need anyone’s favor,” he said.

I sighed. “Yes or no?”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

I softened my tone. “I need people I can trust. And the first name that came to my mind was yours.”

Flattery. I knew how to use it with him.

He scoffed. “What I mean, Trisha, is… you show up here after 12 years and expect me to be the face of your company? After not even inviting me to your wedding?” he pouted, feigning offense.

I fought not to smile.

I thought he had moved on.

Maybe not.

“Why did you even want to attend?” I asked.

“Obviously. Mere bina shaadi kaise hoti? (How could there be a wedding without me?)” he said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes.

He still had his ways.

“Seriously though, I wanted to kill him,” he said bluntly.

I wish… oh, how I wished. “I wish you had. Or maybe I’ll do it myself…”

He laughed. “Isn’t he supposed to be your husband?”

“Ex-husband,” I corrected.

And there it was—the shift in him. The change in his eyes. I didn’t want to name it. I couldn’t. Naming it meant acknowledging it, and I couldn’t let my feelings for him ruin everything. I was here for a purpose. A grudge that still burned hot inside me.

And I was never letting it go.

I swallowed hard and stood, grabbing my bag.

“Well, just having a CEO isn’t enough. I need a new staff—people with experience, self-respect, and loyalty. If you’re interested, meet me tomorrow with your documents—just a formality. If not, send me someone from your friend group who’s desperate for a job. And you know exactly what I mean by desperate, don’t you?” I raised my brows.

He gave a meek nod.

Sliding my shades back on, I walked out.

I clicked my tongue. I hated this part—finding people. Especially trustworthy ones.

Walking to my car, I texted Ajay to find someone in this area who could keep an eye on the Kashyaps and also be capable enough to be CEO material if needed.

Settling inside my car, I opened the bag. The delicious scent of the cookies hit me instantly, overwhelming me.

“I should’ve told him I went to his house,” I mumbled.

Pushing that thought away, I shoved a cookie into my mouth and let out a content moan.

Bakers. They really were God’s favorite people.

Almost instantly, Ajay’s reply buzzed on my phone.

—I have someone who’d be up for this.

I tossed the phone back into my purse and, out of instinct, glanced through the café window.

He was talking to the same woman who’d been sitting with him earlier.

My chest tightened.

“Should I be worried about her?” I muttered.

Shaking my head, I started the engine and drove away. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

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