Ashtamangala (Part 2)

Ashwin glanced around the room with a mix of curiosity and concern. The space was impeccably clean and neatly organized. The walls were painted in a calming blue with pink accents. At the center was a queen-sized bed, dressed in pastel pink bedsheets and adorned with a collection of pillows and soft toys. The room also featured a vanity cluttered with makeup and hair products, and a study table holding clay models and art supplies. In one corner, canvases covered with cloths hinted at creative endeavors waiting to be uncovered.

Divyansh, still in the guise of his sister Divya, had just closed the door behind them. He urged, "Baithiye na." (Please sit.)

Ashwin hummed, following her words to get on the bed and called out, "Divya..."

It broke the young boy to bits whenever Ashwin called him by his sister's name, reminding that he was the imposter. "Ji..", he replied as he went closer, after hesitating for a moment, fiddling nervously with the pallu of his saree. It had slipped down due to his father's assault, revealing more of his pectorals, but he hadn't noticed it yet.

Ashwin, looking up, saw the saree falling and immediately looked away, his attention shifting to the window. "Pehle apni saree thik karo," (Fix your saree first) Ashwin said, trying to maintain his composure.

Divyansh quickly adjusted it, his cheeks flushing.  "Ab thik hai.... Aapki hi patni hun... Aap chahe toh dekh sakte hai," he murmured, almost in a whisper. (It's done. I'm your wife, if you want to, you can look.)

Ashwin's patience was wearing thin. "Wo sab abhi kya tha? Tumhare papa tum se aese baat kyun kar rehe the?" (What was all that about? Why was your father speaking to you like that?) He asked, ignoring what she said: unable to reply, it was a territory he was not ready to explore, not yet.

Divyansh lowered his gaze, unable to offer an explanation. His parents had always adored his sister, and the discrepancy in treatment had become a source of silent suffering for him. He had bore it these years, but now it was getting out of hand, for it was trying to blow his cover!

Ashwin's frustration grew. "Divya maine tumse kuch pucha hai... tumhare parents to tumse bhot payar karte the... toh phir yea sab kya hai?" (Divya, I asked you something! Your parents love you. So why is this happening?)

Divyansh, feeling cornered, stammered, "W-woh papa b-bas thoda gussa ho gaye the... M-main a-aapka thik se d-dhyaan nahi rakh rahi isliye.... I promise I'll do better..." (T-That.. Papa just got angry because I am not taking care of you properly. I promise I'll do better.)

Ashwin, visibly angry, glared at her and demanded, "Main tumhe pagal dikhta hoon? Sach batao ke baat kya hai?" His voice grew sharper as he added, "I don't think it's about you taking care of me." Rising from his seat, he stood tall, towering over her. (Do I look like a fool? Tell me what is happening?)

Divyansh stepped back until his back hit the door, shaking his head nervously. "Chodiye na, kyu itna bura man rahe hai aap!" he said, his voice tinged with unease. (Leave it, why are you getting so offended!)

Ashwin clenched his fists, his thoughts storming inside him. He wanted to say, "Because he was treating you, my wife, so poorly," but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he muttered bitterly, "Leave it... do whatever the fuck you want... why do I even care?" With a frustrated sigh, he sank back onto the bed, his gaze distant and heavy with unspoken emotions.

Divyansh stood quietly by the door, unsure of what to do next. His stance reflected hesitation, as if waiting for instructions. Ashwin's patience finally snapped. "Ab udhar bhoot bani khadi mat raho! Go and do your work," he barked, grabbing his tablet to distract himself with work. (Now don't stand there like a ghost! Go and do your work!)

The words stung. Divyansh, hurt and confused by Ashwin's unpredictable behavior, stood still for a moment. He subtly wiped the moisture forming in his eyes before walking over to his closet. With trembling hands, he began packing some art supplies to take back, his thoughts clouded with unspoken hurt.

Ashwin glanced at him, his expression softening slightly as he watched Divyansh pack. His mind raced with questions. "Divya, what are you hiding from me? What is it that you don't want to share? And what did Mr. Malhotra mean by wasting millions on you? Does he hate you that much? Then what was all that about the rumors of him doting on his daughter?" Despite his irritation, the confusion gnawed at him, refusing to leave.

Sometime later, Divyansh heard his mother calling him from downstairs to help with dinner preparations. He glanced at Ashwin, who was engrossed in his work, and quietly got up. Fixing his saree, he headed to the kitchen, where Shila was waiting for him.

"Ji Maa... kya madad karni hai?" he asked softly, trying to mask his apprehension. (Yes Mum.. How can I help?)

Shila looked at him with a sharp gaze before softening her tone when she noticed Ashwin descending the stairs to sit in the living room. "Tu—...beta Divya, abhi na cook ke tabiyat kharab ho gayi, to usse ghar jana pada. Toh kya aaj tum khana bana dogi?" she said, her voice laced with forced sweetness. (Yo- Divya, our cook's health suddenly declined so she had to return home. So, will you cook for today?)

"Kya banana hai?" Divyansh asked, mentally bracing himself for what was to come. (What isto be made?)Shila smirked as she rattled off an elaborate menu. "Aaj damad ji aaye hai... toh kuch accha banana padega. Butter chicken aur naan, laccha paratha, zeera rice, sahi paneer, aur meethe mein payash bana de. Bas itna ho jayega." (Today our son-in-law is here, so we must cook something nice. Butter chicken and naan, lachcha parantha, jeera rice, shahi paneer and payesh for dessert. This should be enough.)

Divyansh nodded silently, already feeling the weight of the task ahead. He stepped into the kitchen, tucking the pallu of his saree into his waist, and began the preparations, immersing himself in the process to block out the world around him.

Meanwhile, Ashwin, seated in the living room, overheard the exchange. His blood boiled as he realized how Mrs. Malhotra was treating Divya like a servant. Clenching his fists, he stood up abruptly. "If I stay here any longer, I'll lose my temper", he thought. Without another word, he marched back toward Divya's room, fuming.

Divyansh, oblivious to Ashwin's reaction, zoned out everything around him. The ticking clock became his only focus as he hurried through the intricate preparations, determined to complete the task without delay.

He examined the room, finally stopping in front of the covered canvases. Curiosity got the better of him, and he uncovered them, revealing a range of paintings—from vibrant and serene to dark and troubled. One canvas caught his attention: an unfinished painting of a sunset. He couldn't resist adding his own touch. Ashwin found paints and brushes in the drawer of the study table and spent hours completing the painting. When he finished, he felt something was missing. His hand moved almost instinctively as he added a final touch.

Ashwin leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he took in the completed painting. It wasn't just a painting anymore—it felt alive, brimming with emotion. The vibrant hues of the sunset blended seamlessly into the soft tones of the flower field, and at the center of it all was Divya. Her form was delicate yet striking, her saree mirroring the colors of the sky in a way that made her seem like a part of the landscape itself. She sat amidst the flowers, holding a bouquet as if she had just picked them, her gaze fixed on the horizon. There was a calmness to her expression, a quiet contentment that Ashwin had rarely seen in real life. He stood up and stepped back to admire the piece from a distance. For a moment, it felt as if the room had faded away, leaving him alone with the art. The colors seemed to dance under the soft light, and he couldn't help but smile. "This is it," he murmured to himself. "This is her." Just then, a knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Mrs. Malhotra standing there, her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Damad ji," she called softly, her tone a little unsure. "Khaana tayar hai. Neeche aaiye." (Food has been served. Come downstairs.)Ashwin glanced at the clock and realized how much time had passed. "Ji, bas abhi aata hoon," he replied, quickly tidying up the space. (Yes, I'll be there in a moment.)As Mrs. Malhotra left, he carefully placed the painting against the wall, leaning it at an angle where it would catch the fading light of the room. He cleaned the brushes and returned the paints to the drawer before giving the room one last glance. The painting felt complete, but it also felt deeply personal. He wondered if Divya would ever see it. Would she understand what he had poured into it? Would she see herself the way he had seen her in that fleeting vision—radiant, free, and at peace?

Shaking off the thought, he locked the room and made his way downstairs, unaware that the painting had already started to weave a new thread into the fabric of his relationship with Divya.

Divyansh went to make the naan and paranthas so that they would remain hot when served after he set the table. In the meanwhile, Mr. Malhotra came downstairs, hollering rudely, "Khaana kidhar hai? Kyun bulaya mujhe! Main kya sabki tarah khaali baitha hun idhar!" (Where is the food? Why was I called! I'm not sitting idle like everyone else here!)

Divyansh served the first batch of naan and served them with the request, "Aap khaana shuru kijiye, main aur laata hun..." (Start eating, I am bringing more...)

Deepak, noticing Divya was still serving, scolded her sharply, "Yeh ek hi naan banake thak gayi kya? Aur kuchh nahi hai! Jaa jaake dhaang ka khaana lekar aa!" He rebuked her as she stood under the fan, sweaty and exhausted, catching her breath for a moment. (You got tired after making a single naan or what? Is there nothing else! Go and bring out proper food!)

Ashwin, looking up when she served him a naan, noticed how tired and sweaty she was, her blouse clinging to her body. Concerned, he asked, "Divya, tum kiyoun nahi kha rahi ho?" (Divya, why are you not eating?)

Divyansh, trying to explain, replied, "Main baad mein kha lungi," before hurrying back to the kitchen to fetch more naan and parathas, hoping to avoid further anger from his father. (I'll eat later.)

Sheila, seeing Ashwin sitting there without eating, raised her voice, "Damad ji, aap kahiye na... wo bhi baad mein kha lenge, naan aur paratha garma garma khane mein hi ache lagte hain!" (Son-in-law, you start eating. She can have hers later, after all naan and parantha taste the best when hot!)

Divyansh's heart sank as his father's sharp words rang through the dining area. He didn't even have a moment to catch his breath before the next demand came. He wiped the sweat off his brow, tightened his saree's pallu around him, and rushed back into the kitchen. He turned to Ashwin and asked, "Aapko khana pasand nahi aaya? Main kuchh aur bana dun aapke liye?" (Is the food not to your liking? Should I make something else for you?)

Ashwin observed silently from his seat. His eyes darkened as he took in the scene—Divyansh running back and forth, serving everyone while enduring Mr. Malhotra's ceaseless barrage of criticism.

As Divyansh returned with a fresh stack of naans, his hand trembled slightly while placing a plate before his father.

Deepak took one bite, paused, and spat out his insult with the same disdain only because the naan was slightly overcooked. It hadn't even turned fully brown! "Yeh kya jala hua naan banaya hai? Kutte bhi na khaaye!" He slammed the plate back onto the table. (What is this burnt naan? Even street dogs won't touch this shit!)

Ashwin, looking at Divyansh, said, "Nahi Divya, wo baat nahi hai... actually, I was waiting for you... tum ab betho aur khana khao," as he glared at Mr. Malhotra. He took his first bite of the paratha and was pleased to find it perfectly fine. (No Divya, it's not like that... actually, I was waiting for you... now sit and have dinner.)

Divyansh, feeling touched by Ashwin's gesture, gave him a grateful look and smiled, replying, "Koi baat nahi, aap khaa lijiye, main baad mein khaa lungi." (It's ok, you have your dinner, I'll eat later.) He then went back to the kitchen to bring fresh parathas for his father and served him. Deepak, taking a bite of the new parathas, remained silent for a moment before acknowledging, "Yeh waale zayada achche hai." Ashwin's glare had put him in check, his quiet strength had shifted the power dynamic, if only for a moment.

After dinner, Ashwin stepped aside to make a call to his cousin, while Divyansh's parents, seizing the opportunity, locked him in their room. Sheila, seething with fury, yanked Divyansh to the ground by his hair, her voice a sharp bark of anger as she demanded, "Maine tujhe bola tha ke Ashwin ko Divya ke room mein leke jaana. Tu usse apne room mein kyun leke gaya?" (I had told you to take Ashwin to Divya's room. Why did you take him to yours?)

Divyansh, his voice trembling, attempted to justify himself, "Woh pati hai mere! Mera kuchh toh unka hone dijiye!" (He is my husband! At least let me share something with him!)

But Deepak, his patience thin as a thread, slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. He snarled, "Tera pati? Tera pati? Huh? Bohot seekh gaya hai tu!" (Your husband? Your husband? Huh? You've learnt too much!)

His rage boiled over as he raged on, "Tune apni behen ka pati chhina hai! Aur kahaan se laayega tu woh bachcha? Meri company teri wajah se lut jaayegi! Maine bola tha isko maar do, lekin nahi! Tujhe is kutte par daya aa gayi!" (You stole your sister's husband! And from where are you going to bring a baby? My company is going to collapse because of you! I had told to kill you upon borth, but no! You took pity on this cur!) With a swift, brutal kick to Divyansh's abdomen, Deepak's anger found its release.

Sheila, her voice thick with disdain, spat, "Sahi kaha aapne, Deepak. Jis din yeh paida hua, us din maar dena chahiye tha. Pata nahi main kya soch ke isse zinda chhod diya." (You are right, Deepak. I should killed him the day he was born. I don't know what I was thinking at that time to spare his life.) She kicked Divyansh in the back, her cruel words only adding to the torment he already endured. Divyansh curled into himself, silent, hoping against hope that they would spare him further pain, praying for an end to the abuse. Satisfied after a while of abuse, the Malhotra couple tossed him out of their room, their cruelty sated for the moment, and Divyansh, his stomach aching from his father's violent kick, slowly made his way back to his own room, wondering where Ashwin had gone.

Divyansh knocked softly on the door, a forced smile on his lips as he tried to mask the pain he was feeling. Ashwin opened the door, his eyes filled with concern, and he asked, "Abhi tak kidhar thi?"(Where were you till this late?)

Divyansh brushed it off with a soft, "Dinner kar rahi thi. Aap abhi tak soye nahi?" (I was having dinner. Why didn't you go to bed?) He entered the room, fixing his bun and making preparations to take a bath, his body desperate for the soothing touch of water. Ashwin, his worry deepening, murmured, "Bas sone jaa raha tha... Tum aaj bed pe hi so jaana." (I was just going to bed.. You should sleep on the bed today.) He lay down on one side, the invitation clear but gentle. Divyansh hesitated, murmuring, "Koi baat nahi... Main zameen pe so jaungi." (I don't mind. I'll sleep on the floor.) But Ashwin, firm yet kind, replied, "Maine bola na bed pe sone ko, toh bas chup chap so jaana." (I told you to sleep on the bed, so you are sleeping there without further arguments.) Divyansh nodded and reluctantly agreed, lying down quietly, a mix of gratitude and inner turmoil.

After a long, restorative bath, Divyansh emerged in a fresh saree, his movements slow as he walked to his desk. It was then that he saw the painting—his sister, now finished and lovingly completed. His breath caught in his throat, and tears welled up in his eyes as he realized Ashwin had added the final touches, bringing it to life. His heart felt both full and broken—how could a stranger care so much when his own parents wished for his death daily? "Why do you care so much for me?" he wondered silently, his emotions a storm within him. Ashwin, hearing the quiet sobs, opened his eyes to see Divya standing at the desk, her eyes locked on the painting. His gaze fell upon the large, red bruise on her lower back, his worry deepening. Without a word, he rose from the bed, crossed the room, and gently pulled her into a side hug, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

Divyansh, feeling the warmth and safety of Ashwin's embrace, melted against him. It had been years since anyone had held him without demanding anything in return. Ashwin, his voice soft with apology, whispered, "Mujhe maaf karna, maine painting complete kar diya... par main khud ko rok nahi paaya." (Please forgive me for completing the painting... but I couldn't control myself.) He hugged her more tightly, offering what little comfort he could. Divyansh, calming down slightly, mumbled into his shoulder, "Thank you... Main toh is painting ko phenkne wali thi, lekin ab... ab lagta hai jaise mujhe nayi zindagi mil gayi ho." (Thank you... I was about to throw this painting away, but now... now it feels like I have reincarnated.) Ashwin, his heart aching for her, said softly, "Mujhe khushi hai ki tumhe achha laga... Tum thik ho? Tumhe paani chahiye?" (I'm glad that you liked it... Are you okay? Do you want water?) Divyansh shook his head, a small smile touching his lips as he replied, "Aap so jaiye... Main aati hoon..." (Go to sleep... I'll be there soon...)

Divyansh left the warmth of Ashwin's embrace to adjust the night lights and dry his hair. Ashwin, following behind, gently took the serum from her hand, his fingers brushing through her damp hair as he applied it carefully. Divyansh, blushing under his touch, protested softly, "Aap aisa kyun kar rahe ho? Main khud laga lungi." (Why are you doing this? I can do it myself) Ashwin, his voice teasing but kind, replied, "Hum dono ne promise kiya tha ke dost ban ke rahenge, toh main bas apne dost ki madad kar raha hoon." (We promised to stay friends, didn't we? I'm just helping my friend.) He finished applying the serum and set the bottle down, a small smile on his face. Divyansh, feeling a flutter in his chest, thanked him quietly, then began to part her hair down the middle before braiding it for the night. As she reached for her small box of sindur, Ashwin gently took it from her, opening it with a tenderness that made her heart race. He dipped his thumb into the sindur and applied it to her hairline, a small yet meaningful gesture that seemed to bridge the gap between them.

Divyansh closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He had to tell Ashwin the truth, had to confess that he wasn't the person Ashwin believed him to be. But the words stuck in his throat, and instead, he focused on making the bed, urging Ashwin softly, "Abhi toh so jaiye..." (You should sleep now. I'll finish here.) Ashwin, sensing her inner turmoil, smiled and said, "Chalo saath mein so jaate hain." (Let's go to bed together.) He patted the bed beside him, offering the comfort of his presence. Divyansh, though hesitant, nodded softly, murmuring, "Jaisi aapki marzi..." (As you wish) She shifted to the edge of the bed, covering herself with her pallu before lying down, Ashwin pulling the blanket over her gently as he settled on his side, his eyes soft with concern and care. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the space between them filled with unspoken words and the tentative beginnings of something new.

As the night wore on, Divyansh lay in bed, lost in a tangled web of thoughts, his mind racing with doubts and uncertainties. The agreement weighed heavily on him, gnawing at his conscience—he knew that his father would kill him if he didn't get the money, and his in-laws actually expected them to have children! How long could he postpone this, he wondered? And then there was Ashwin—his behavior was so confusing. One moment, he was cold and distant, the next, he cared for him as if he were loved. It left Divyansh in a state of turmoil. His mind swirled with these thoughts, but the exhaustion of the day finally overcame him, and he drifted into a troubled sleep.

The morning light filtered in softly, waking Divyansh's body clock around 6 am. As he stirred, he realized that during the night, he and Ashwin had somehow gravitated toward each other. Ashwin's arms were wrapped around him, his fingers gently resting on Divyansh's bare waist. The warmth and closeness felt strange but comforting, as though for a brief moment, the confusion of the previous day had been replaced with something simpler. Divyansh could feel the callouses on Ashwin's fingers from years of painting. Ashwin, bathed in the early sunlight, looked ethereal, like a Gandharv. Despite the beauty of the moment, Divyansh knew he needed to get up and freshen up before breakfast. Slowly, he tried to wriggle free from Ashwin's embrace, but even his slightest movement stirred Ashwin.

Divyansh whispered softly, "Kuchh nahi... aap so jaiye..." as his hand caressed Ashwin's hair. (It's nothing... Sleep some more...)

Ashwin, still half asleep, took hold of Divyansh's hand, pulling him back down beside him. "Thodi der aur soo jao... It's still early in the morning," he murmured, hugging Divyansh's waist, clearly reluctant to let go. (You too sleep some more... It's still early in the morning.)

Divyansh, his heart swelling with warmth for the first time in what felt like forever, sighed softly, "Jaane dijiye na... Warna kisiko breakfast nahi milne wala..." He felt the overwhelming need to give everything he had to Ashwin, to offer him the care and love he had never known. (Please leave me... Otherwise no one will get breakfast...)

Ashwin, with his eyes still closed, murmured sleepily, "You are not their cook... Unko breakfast chahiye toh wo khud bana le..." and hugged Divyansh closer, drifting back into sleep. (You're not their cook. If they want breakfast, they should cook it themselves.)

Divyansh smiled, not protesting, but simply closing his eyes and falling asleep once more in Ashwin's embrace, feeling the warmth of the moment.

Around 8 am, Ashwin woke up and noticed that Divyansh was still sleeping peacefully beside him. He quietly got out of bed and went to freshen up in the bathroom. After about 15 minutes, he returned to find Divyansh still asleep. He made a quick call to his parents, informing them that they would be back before lunch. After hanging up, he gently shook Divyansh's shoulder.

"Divya... Divya utho..." Ashwin's voice broke through the morning haze. (Divya.. Divya wake up..)

Divyansh, disoriented from the deep sleep, mumbled, "Uh?" as he blinked, trying to wake up.

Ashwin repeated, "Divya utho... Hume ghar wapas jana hai... Mujhe kisi urgent kaam se jana padega..." (Divya, wake up.. We need to return home... I have some urgent work at hand...)

Divyansh, still half asleep, responded with a soft, "Okay..." and got up to freshen up. He returned after about 45 minutes, quickly finishing the last of the packing that needed to be done before they left.

"Chale? Mera ho gaya hai," he said, ready to go. (Shall we go? I'm done.)

Ashwin nodded and, with a smile, replied, "Hmm, chalo... Hum raste mein breakfast kar lenge." He grabbed his bag and opened the door to the room, leading the way as they prepared to head back. (Hmm, let's go... We will have breakfast on the go.)

As Divyansh stepped out of their room, luggage in hand, he came face-to-face with his fuming mother, Sheila, at the top of the stairs. Her anger was palpable.

"Maa, aap..." he began, his voice cautious. (Mum, you...)

Sheila cut him off, stepping closer, her fury unmistakable. "Kidhar thi tum abhi tak? Breakfast kaun banega?" (Where were you till this late? Who is going to cook breakfast?)

Before Divyansh could answer, Ashwin intervened, moving to shield him from Sheila's ire. "Divya aapki cook nahi hai, Mrs. Malhotra," Ashwin said firmly, his tone cold and authoritative. "Woh meri wife hai, aur main usse leke ja raha hoon." (Divya is not your cook, Mrs. Malhotra. She is my wife and I am taking her away from here!)

Ashwin's hand clasped Divyansh's gently but protectively as he added, "Chalo, Divya," without sparing Sheila another glance. He guided Divyansh toward the stairs, ignoring the sputtering objections from behind. (Let's go, Divya.)

Divyansh followed, casting one last, wary glance at his father, who stood in the living room with his usual glare of contempt. Deepak's eyes bore into him, filled with unspoken threats.

Sliding into Ashwin's car, Divyansh felt a wave of relief mingled with dread. Relief, because he was leaving the house of horrors behind for now. Dread, because he knew his father's vindictiveness wouldn't be left behind so easily. He had to act soon, for the safety of both Ashwin and the Ahuja family.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hope you guys will enjoy this big ass part which I am uploading disregarding the fact that I have my most important exam tomorrow morning.

This was sitting in my drafts for way too long, but editing is a bitch..

Enjoy, Adiraj and Priya!