Chapter 15: The Mask of Elegance

The water from the morning bath did little to wash away the weariness that clung to Aria. Mrs. Sharma's next order cut through the solitude of the bathroom, setting the tone for the day.

Mrs. Sharma, through the closed door: "Aria, always remember, appearances matter. You may not have much, but you'll dress nicely. It's the only privilege you get here. Now, get ready and come to the kitchen."

Aria, wrapping herself in a towel, nodded in silent compliance. The bathroom became a temporary refuge, a space where she grappled with the demands of her new life.

As she emerged, dressed as neatly as her limited wardrobe allowed, Aria felt a strange dichotomy – the privilege of dressing nicely in stark contrast to the stark reality of her servitude. The mask of elegance became her shield, a facade that concealed the internal turmoil.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Sharma, unimpressed by Aria's appearance, continued to set the rules.

Mrs. Sharma, with a critical gaze: "Well, at least you've got that right. Remember, you're representing our family now. Don't tarnish our reputation."

Aria, a silent participant in this forced charade, moved through the kitchen, her every step echoing the compliance demanded by the invisible chains of servitude. The morning continued, and Aria, now dressed as a puppet in a play she didn't choose, navigated the intricacies of her new life, one rule at a time.

After a morning of chores and an elegant façade, Aria found herself seated in a corner with a meager portion of leftovers. Rohit, handing her the plate, delivered a curt instruction.

Rohit: "Here, this is your meal. Don't waste it."

Aria, her stomach grumbling, accepted the plate with a nod. The contrast between the lavish meals she had once disrespected as Arjun and the humble offering before her now struck a chord.

As she took a reluctant bite, a wave of regret washed over her. The flavors, modest as they were, carried a weight of humility she hadn't acknowledged in her previous life. Aria thought back to the times when she had scoffed at the meals prepared with care by her parents, oblivious to the privilege she had enjoyed.

The realization hit her hard, and with every bite, she felt the sting of remorse. The echoes of her past arrogance resurfaced, turning each mouthful into a bitter reminder of the disrespect she had shown.

In the quiet corner of Rohit's house, Aria experienced a humbling moment of reflection, understanding the true value of the meals she had once taken for granted. The leftovers, meager as they were, became a symbol of the consequences of her past actions, a reminder that the taste of regret lingered long after the last bite was taken.

The morning chores unfolded like an unending list of tasks, each order delivered by Mrs. Sharma with a tone that brooked no argument. Aria moved through the house, executing her duties with silent compliance, her every action dictated by the rules imposed upon her.

When the chores ceased, the weight of servitude didn't lift. Mrs. Sharma, holding a simple dog collar, approached Aria with a glint of authority in her eyes.

Mrs. Sharma: "When there's no work, you wear this."

The collar, a symbol of submission, was placed around Aria's neck. It felt like an invisible shackle, a stark reminder of her position in the household hierarchy. The other end was tied to the door of her servant room, limiting her mobility within the confined space.

Mrs. Sharma, with a cold stare: "This will keep you in check. Don't try anything foolish."

Aria, now wearing the collar, felt the dehumanizing weight of thesituation. The confines of the room became more restricting, the collar aconstant reminder of the boundaries that bound her. In moments of reprieve fromthe endless chores, she sat in solitude, the collar a silent testimony to hersubmission in this unfamiliar and unforgiving world.