Returning to Shreya

I stepped out of the bathroom, steam clinging to my skin and the hot water leaving my body feeling even warmer, looser. A pleasant, heavy ache still throbbed deep inside me from earlier with Arvind. I let out a long, contented sigh.

Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it tightly around my chest and headed for my room.

I was halfway down the hall when Ma’s voice floated up from downstairs.

"Shreya! Are you done with your shower?"

"Yes, Ma! Just finished!" I called back.

"Great! Change, and then Come down and help me. Gopal Uncle is coming over for dinner tonight."

I stopped dead in the hallway. My fingers instinctively tightened on the towel, the terrycloth biting into my skin. The warm, lazy feeling from earlier vanished, replaced by a familiar, cold knot in my stomach.

"Is Papa... is he staying out again?" I tried to keep my voice light, neutral.

The pause from downstairs stretched for just a second too long.

"Yes, dear. You know how busy he is. So much work." Her voice was falsely bright.

I didn't say anything. I just stared at the wall, my jaw tight.

Ma must have heard the silence. "Actually," she called up, her tone changing, "never mind. It's fine. You go and do your homework. I don't need any help."

I still didn't reply. I just walked the rest of the way to my room, pushed the door open, and closed it behind me with a soft, final click.

I leaned against the wood for a moment, staring at nothing, just breathing. Then I let it all out in a rush and flopped face-first onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

After a minute, I rolled onto my back and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, bright and meaningless. I unlocked it and started scrolling. Instagram. WhatsApp. Back to Instagram.

Nothing. Just the same stupid posts, the same fake smiles. I felt restless and hollow, the delicious warmth Arvind had left inside me feeling a million miles away.

I finally had enough and threw the phone onto the other side of the bed with a sigh of frustration.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back. Back to when I was younger. When life was simple. When the stream of uncles and aunties who visited our house were just... guests. Friends and colleagues of my parents, stopping by for chai and conversation. That's all I thought it was.

I was fifteen when that illusion shattered.

It was a random night. I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning. I heard noises from my parents' room down the hall—soft thumps, then a low moan. I thought maybe Ma had fallen, that she was hurt or something. I slipped out of bed and crept down the hall.

Their door was ajar, just a crack. I should have just gone back to my room. I should have called out.

But I didn't. I peeked.

And I saw Ma. Naked. Sprawled on her back on the bed. And Kuldeep Uncle... he was naked, too. He was on top of her, between her legs, his body moving. And Ma... she was moaning, but it wasn't a moan of pain. I'd never heard a sound like that before. Her hands were clutching his back, her own legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

I froze. My blood turned to ice. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I just stood there, staring, my heart hammering so hard I was terrified they'd hear it over their own sounds.

Then I turned and ran, silent, back to my room. I locked the door. I didn't sleep at all that night.

After that, it was like a switch had flipped. I started noticing things.

Papa staying out late for "work meetings."

Ma having "friends" over for lunch when Papa was gone. Sometimes it was Kuldeep Uncle again. Sometimes it was Gopal Uncle. Sometimes it was someone else I didn't even know.

Sometimes Papa was home, and it would be one of Ma's friends, an "auntie," visiting. Alone.

I wasn't stupid. It took a few months, but I pieced it together.

Their marriage wasn't traditional. Not even close. They had some sort of... arrangement. An open one. They did whatever they wanted, with whoever they wanted, and they just... let each other.

I never asked them about it. What would I even say? "Hi, Ma, why was Kuldeep Uncle on top of you?" And honestly, in a weird way, they seemed happy. Happier and more affectionate with each other than most of the "normal" couples I knew.

But it still felt weird.

Knowing that when Papa said he had "work," he was probably with someone else.

Knowing that when Ma said Gopal Uncle was coming for "dinner," it was never, ever just for dinner.