Leela loved the way the fishes opened their pink mouths to catch the puffed rice. Her hands grabbed the last pieces from the paper bag and chucked them into the pond. 

That one sentence kept coming back to her. It was like the puffed rice. Her insecurities raised their heads and devoured it, creating ripples in the peaceful depths of her heart. 

Those words. Those razor-sharp syllables that had invaded the softest corner of her being and ripped it to shreds.

She made me happy.

Leela felt that hand again. The same one that wrenched her guts and made her want to puke. The thorny grip scratched her soul every time it touched it. 

She tasted warm blood. She had been chewing her lips. Again.

She had recently completed her fourth decade on earth. Forty springs had gradually turned into winters right before her eyes. The increasing greyness on her head was not a result of some hair formula gone wrong. This was aging. Plain and simple. Nature had run its course. There was nothing she could do to stop it. So, she, Leela, would face it like a warrior. Brave. Straight backed. In the eye.

Life had been a bitch. But she would chain it.

                                                                                                      ***

The house was always quiet during evenings. Shreeya would be at piano lessons. And Prakash…She swallowed. He would be home by now.

She walked through the boulevard and crossed the garden. The pretty house at the centre was straight out of a fairy tale. 

Leela exhaled, hoping to breathe out the dark cloud of despair and of defeat that had accumulated in her heart. She failed. Miserably. The salty rain in her eyes threatened to fall. 

No, she wouldn’t allow that. Not again.

                                                                                                    ***

Prakash was lying on the couch, his eyes shut. She distinctly remembered purchasing it. He had wanted a black one but she was certain that a red one would match with the white walls. After much discussion, they had settled for this maroon divan. 

Upon her arrival, he opened his eyes and attempted a smile. 

“I am the chef this evening,” He sat up, trying to sound normal.

“Okay,” She kept her voice nonchalant. 

“Shreeya should be home any moment,” Prakash was keen on keeping the conversation flowing. 

Leela found it unnecessary.

She entered the bathroom and shut the door softly.

                                                                                                           ***

As she allowed the warm water to run over her, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her body was no longer slim. The hourglass figure that she had once been proud of had filled out, particularly after the birth of Shreeya.

“You are turning into a potato,” Prakash often teased her nowadays.

“A potato with brains,” She would laugh casually. 

Something crashed and broke into pieces in the kitchen. 

Leela sighed.

Prakash would never learn how to cook.

                                                                                                         ***

Everything had been fine until the previous afternoon. It was the last day of school before it closed for the spring break. Leela’s day had gone extremely well and she was humming a tune as she returned home earlier than usual.

It was the scene in the living room that froze her on her tracks. 

The whiskey cabinet was unlocked; Prakash was sipping the golden liquid with a pensive expression on his face. There was a box next to him. Its contents were spilled on the coffee table. If he was surprised to see her home so early, he didn’t let it show.

“Prakash, is everything alright?”

Their eyes met.

“Please sit down, Leela.”

She obeyed, her palms suddenly sweaty. She nervously rubbed them together.

“Dilip messaged me an hour ago. Pavitra got married.”

She looked at Prakash’s phone. There was a picture of Pavitra at her wedding. The girl looked absolutely gorgeous. The elegant red attire and the gold jewellery suited her well. The youthful glow combined with bridal joy had worked wonders on her face.

“Pavitra had so many dreams. A lavish wedding was one of them.”

Prakash’s voice was serene. His eyes swept through the greeting cards, pictures of himself and Pavitra together, a pair of gloves and an old shirt. These had once filled the box.

Pain—pure and piercing—shot through Leela’s chest. This ache was so palpable that Prakash seemed to feel it too.

“Leela…I am sorry.”

She couldn’t speak. Her throat felt constricted.

“I never wanted you to see this…I never intended to hurt you…”

Prakash sank to his knees and held her hands in his own.

“Even after all these years, Prakash?”

Leela eventually found her voice. 

Prakash brought her hands to his lips.

“Why is she so special to you?”

Nothing had prepared her for the words that followed.

“She made me happy.”

                                                                                                       ***

The clock ticking on the wall transported her to that autumn evening seven years ago, when she had met Pavitra. It was Prakash’s friend Dilip’s wedding. Pavitra was a vision in blue, her long silky hair flowing like a rivulet down her sculpted back. The gemstones on her ears had matched perfectly with the twinkle in her eyes. The moment she entered the venue, Prakash had instinctively let go of Leela’s hand. 

That evening, Prakash and Pavitra had stolen the thunder from Dilip and his bride. Pavitra was the splendid sun and Prakash was the exotic moon, bound by her attraction.

Leela had watched from afar, a lone, forgotten meteor. 

Then came the whispers. 

“They look great together!”

“He still loves her.”

“Prakash, Pavitra, Dilip…They used to be quite the gang.”

“If only Pavitra hadn’t met Arjun…Such a pity!”

“Isn’t that Prakash’s wife? She’s not bad looking either. But Pavitra is ten years younger and much more vivacious.”

“Poor thing! She will always be the second choice.”

Leela had quickly left the party. Alone.

                                                                                           ***

But that was long ago. As the days passed, the ghost of Pavitra had stopped haunting them. Or so Leela had believed. They had started their own school and bought the little house with the lovely garden. After Shreeya’s birth, their world had seemed truly complete.

Leela caught a sob in her throat to keep it from escaping. Her reality had begun to disappear like an illusion and she could do nothing but helplessly watch it vanish.

                                                                                            ***

The next day began on a sunny note. But Leela knew better than to trust the dawn to show the dusk.

“Are you angry?”

Leela sensed his presence before he spoke. 

“I never was, Prakash.” It was the truth. 

“I am scared, Leela…”

“What are you scared of?”

Leela turned around to face her husband. He was intently watching her brewing coffee. 

“That you will leave me…”

“I won’t.” Again, it was the truth. 

He cleared his throat rather awkwardly. 

“I am just worried, Prakash.”

Leela turned the stove off.

“I won’t leave you. You are my wife, the mother of my daughter. This was before we met. And now she is married anyway. I never saw her after that party. It has only been you…”

She touched him gently on the shoulder. He stopped rambling.

“Prakash, I am not worried that you will leave me.”

She watched her husband’s face…This man whom she had a beautiful child with…Whom she loved to pieces…Whom she trusted her life with…

“I am just worried that you will stay with me out of love…And not be happy…”

“Leela…Please…”

“She made you happy.”

Prakash opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.

Leela smiled at him kindly. 

“Do you still love her?”

“I love you, Leela.”

Leela turned her face away. She heard Prakash sigh.

“Look, I am still not indifferent to her. I care for her. But that ship has already sailed. And at this point, you and Shreeya are my life. She is just somebody that I have good wishes for.”

“I understand, Prakash.”

She started pouring out the coffee.

Prakash simply stared at her.

“So Leela, where do we go from here?”

She handed him his mug.

“Well, I am going to feed the fishes. Could you wake Shreeya up? She is getting late for school.”

Prakash searched hessr face for a moment and then nodded.

Leela picked her mug up and walked towards the garden pond.