The Risk of Speaking Out : Part 2

Link to the previous part :

https://allaboutblogdotlife.wordpress.com/2020/04/16/the-risk-of-speaking-out-part-1/

Riya

Date : 16th November 2014, Sunday.

My watch showed 5 pm. I just got rid of the over crowded bazaar. I had left Abhay at home with Isha. As I walked towards my car, I noticed that I had forgotten something. I went to the coffee shop on one corner of the street. It was a small, atleast a fifty year old one floored building with vintage coffee machines standing here and there, people waiting in long queues, the guy at the counter billing faster than an automated robot and a teenager involving in packaging and arranging all the packets on the wooden table. I waited for about half an hour and finally I got in. As usual I bargained for a meagre amount of five rupees and walked back to my car again.

I finished putting all the things in the back seat and then a guy, probably in his late twenties, snapped at me and asked, “How about a late night date?” My BP levels rose up higher than ever, and only after 45 seconds I realised he was drunk. Drunk at 5 ?

I didn’t pay heed to any of his shit and simply opened my front door. He held my hand tightly, put his arm around me, came an inch closer and started rubbing my hair. I was almost screwed. I screamed for help, and thankfully, two auto drivers nearby pushed him away, threw a volley of cuss words, beat him and took him to one corner of the street. Thank God.

I drove home, and it was half past seven. When I entered, I found Abhay, and Isha comfortably seated on his lap, watching cricket. My mind, which was ok till then, started recollecting all that happened near the bazaar. Perturbed by thoughts.

“Riya !”

“Riya !”

As I cleared my mind, I saw Abhay switching off the gas. The curry had become as black as coal, and the smell was horrible. I watched all the hungama with wide eyes, open mouth and a blank mind.

“Where are you ? In another world ?”

“Nothing”, I replied, feigning my smile. “What happened today? What were you thinking ?”, he asked, looking straight into my eye. “Nothing”. Something prevented me from speaking out.

That night I couldn’t sleep, and every fifteen minutes Abhay would look after me and make me feel better.

(To be continued…)

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