Page 77 of Mrs. Pandey
Pari's lips quivered as her courage slowly deflated, her gaze lowering to the floor, defeated. She couldn't do anything. No one could do anything except Prashant but he was burning with betrayal.
"I thought you've changed, Ira," he said coldly, finally releasing my arm but not before I felt the angry red marks blooming on my skin. His eyes bore into mine, no longer full of love, just hurt and disbelief. "But you're still that same selfish woman. I never needed your charity. I never asked you to be my savior."
"It wasn't charity!" I stepped toward him, my voice shaking. "It was care, Prashant! You were breaking. I just…I wanted to help you and to do something good for us."
"For us?" he sneered. "You mean for you. You wanted control, didn't you? A little power play in your perfect little fantasy life. You really thought you could buy my house, my pride, and I'd just keep quiet?"
His words struck deeper than anything ever had. I stood frozen, unable to believe this was the same man I had stayed up with on dark nights, the same man whose scars I kissed and whose fears I held in my arms.
"I can't stay here," he said after a beat, looking away like he couldn't stand the sight of me. "Since this house belongs to my wife I'll just make it easier for everyone."
With that, he stormed upstairs, the air crackling behind him.
His mother watched him go, then turned back to me with a smug expression. "Good. Now let's see how long your ownership means anything without a husband under this roof."
I just stood there, numb. Minutes passed before I heard his footsteps upstairs, they were loud, and angry. I heard drawers slammed, cupboards opened and shut. I stood at the bottom of the staircase, gripping the banister to keep myself upright. Paritried to approach me, her eyes filled with apology, but one look from her mother sent her retreating.
I watched as Prashant descended the stairs with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a suitcase in the other. He didn't look at me, not even once.
"Prashant, please..." I took a step toward him.
"Don't," he muttered, brushing past me.
I turned slightly, reaching for him, just to stop him, just to make him look at me but in his hurry, in his pain, he shoved me too roughly.
I stumbled.
The edge of the staircase blurred, my vision spun, and before I could catch myself...
Thud.
Pain burst through the back of my head like fireworks. For a moment, everything was white, soundless. I could only hear my panicked breathing.
Suddenly, everything from my past came rushing back, Amish taking advantage of me, my father slapping me even when it wasn't my fault, Kabir punching me. And now... Prashant. He had pushed me. Pushed me down the stairs.
No... no, no, no.
He wasn't like them. He was different. He was my Prashant, my loving, gentle Prashant. He couldn't hurt me. He would never hurt me... right?
"Ira!"
His terrified voice, not angry but full of terror, cut through my thoughts. I blinked, vision hazy, as I felt strong arms gather around me.
"Ira, no... no, no, no..." he whispered, over and over, his face ghostly pale. "I didn't mean to... I didn't..."
I could feel warmth trickle down the side of my head. My fingers brushed sticky and wet liquid.
Blood.
His hands were trembling as he cupped my face. "Ira, please, look at me," he begged, eyes wide, voice breaking.
I wanted to speak, to tell him I was okay, but my lips wouldn't move. I could hear screaming, Pari maybe and then another voice saying to call an ambulance.
"I was angry," he kept saying, I heard a tremble in his voice. "I should've listened. I should've trusted you. Please, I didn't mean it. I hurt you again. I fucking hurt you again. Fuck I hurt you…!"
As darkness crept at the edges of my vision, I wondered if love alone had ever really been enough. Sometimes his madness went so far that it only subsided after hurting me. He came to his senses only after causing me pain. _______
Chapter 36
