Later, Shalini rose quietly from the bed, her body still aching sweetly from the night, thighs sticky, lips swollen. She wrapped a fresh saree around herself, smoothed her hair, and slipped into the kitchen without waking Lakhanlal or the girls.
She prepared breakfast with steady hands: hot parathas stuffed with aloo, a bowl of curd, sliced onions and green chillies, strong black tea for everyone.
When Rukmini, Anjali, and Kavya emerged one by one, sleepy-eyed, hair loose, they froze a little in the doorway.
Arahan was sitting at the small wooden table in the main room, shirt buttoned but sleeves still rolled up, hair slightly mussed, looking perfectly at ease as if he belonged there.
They knew he hadn't gone home, instead spent the entire night in their stepmother's bedroom.
And through the wall, they had heard their step mom screaming and moaning. And they knew it was not their dad, since his stick couldn't even stand up.
