The car struck 8 as Wafa stepped out of her car, her body aching after a long exhausting shift, her white coat was folded over her arm, her stethoscope still dangling from her neck. She opened the front gate and entered the compound of her house. Just as she reached the main door, a ball of fur sprinted towards her through lightening speed.
"Bullet!" she exclaimed, bending just in time to catch the tiny Yorkshire Terrier in her arms.
The dog jumped up excitedly, tail wagging furiously, tongue out and panting with joy as he began licking her cheeks. Wafa giggled, her tiredness momentarily forgotten.
"Okay okay, stop it, Bullet! Let me freshen up, and then we'll play," she said, holding his tiny face in her hands.
With a soft bark, Bullet obediently ran off to the living room, curling up on the carpet like he understood every word.
As she walked in, she was greeted by the familiar coldness that no matter how many times it hit her, never stopped hurting.
Sakshi Mittal, her mother, emerged from the kitchen with a sarcastic smile etched on her lips. "You're finally home," she said with a pointed tone, "Go and freshen up. Dinner is already served."
Wafa's smile faded. "Yes, mom," she replied quietly and began climbing the stairs.
Her mother's tone, her grandmother's indifferent glances—none of it was new. But it still pierced her heart every time. The warmth in her home only existed around her father and siblings. The rest felt like a battlefield she tiptoed across daily.
Once in her room, she closed the door behind her, leaned back against it, and let out a long sigh. Her room was her safe space. Soft lights, books stacked on one side, a photo of her and Bullet framed neatly on her study table. She picked out her favorite night suit—sky blue with tiny strawberries—and entered the washroom.
Inside, she tapped on the speaker and played her comfort song—"Laila Main Laila". As the beat kicked in, she began singing along, her voice dancing with the rhythm as the warm water relaxed her stiff muscles.
Half an hour later, she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her cheeks flushed from the hot shower. She quickly patted her hair dry and applied her body moisturizer, the floral scent soothing her nerves. Once done, she headed downstairs.
In the dining room, the family was already seated. Her grandmother, Shanti Mittal, sat beside her father, Dinesh. As always, her posture was straight and her expression disapproving, like even the air around her needed discipline.
Sakshi was serving food silently, placing dishes in front of everyone without looking at Wafa. She sat between her elder sister Parishi and younger brother Vansh.
Vansh grinned and mouthed, "Finally."
Parishi gave her a nervous smile—one that made Wafa narrow her eyes. Something's up, she thought. She leaned a little closer, brows raised in silent questioning.
Parishi glanced around; their grandmother's hawk eyes scanned the table like a strict warden. So instead of speaking, Parishi slipped her phone beneath the table and typed a message. A second later, Wafa's phone vibrated gently.
"Will discuss in room. For now eat. Or else they're gonna shout at you."
Wafa rolled her eyes and texted back: "Fine. But when do they not?"
Parishi glanced at her screen and softly placed her hand over Wafa's in a reassuring gesture.
Suddenly, their father broke the silence.
"So, Wafa, how was your duty today, beta?" he asked, looking at her fondly.
Wafa's face lit up. "It was good, papa. I had a C-section case today—everything went smoothly."
"That's great! You've been handling so much lately. I'm proud of you," he said, his voice filled with warmth that melted a part of her heart that had been frozen all day.
Wafa began to respond, but Sakshi cut in, turning the attention away.
"Parishi, kal tumhe shopping ke liye nikalna hai. We're running out of time. Only one week left for your wedding," she said firmly.
(Parishi, you have to go for shopping tomorrow.)
Parishi nodded with a small sigh. "Yes, mummy."
Then Sakshi's eyes moved to Wafa, and she pointed her spoon toward her. "And you. You're going to help her. Understood?"
Wafa looked at her, surprised but composed. "Sure, mom."
Dinner continued in silence for a while, punctuated only by the clinking of spoons and the occasional taunt from Shanti or a command from Sakshi. The only comforting part was Vansh quietly slipping a slice of paneer from his plate to hers under the table with a mischievous grin.