Willingly Broken

Chapter 10: The Day I Could Have Ended It

I woke up that morning with a strange calm in my heart.

Today was the day.

After months of planning, enduring, and collecting every piece of evidence, I had finally decided. Enough was enough. Today I would end this humiliating chapter of my life. I would go to my hidden safe house in Besant Nagar, activate all the emergency protocols, and destroy Vinu, Lata, Murugan, and Sujata completely. By tomorrow evening, Monish Vijayan would return. The police would raid the villa. All their crimes would be exposed. I would take back everything.

I had persisted long enough.

I finished all my morning duties faster than usual. I cleaned the entire villa, washed the vessels, mopped the floors, served breakfast to Vinu and Lata, and even massaged Lata’s feet without complaint. All the while, my mind was already far away.

By 1:30 p.m., I told Sujata, “Akka, I have some urgent personal work. I’ll come back in the evening.”

She just waved her hand. “Go, go. But come back before Murugan returns.”

I changed into a simple navy blue cotton saree, took my usual small handbag (which secretly contained a pendrive with all the final evidence), adjusted my pallu, and stepped out of the villa gates.

My heart was racing with excitement. Freedom was just a short auto ride and one phone call away.

I was walking along the ECR road towards the bus stand when it happened.

A tiny toddler, barely two years old, suddenly ran into the middle of the road chasing a red ball. At the same moment, a massive speeding lorry came barreling down the road, horn blaring.

Everything slowed down.

Without thinking, without hesitation, I dropped my handbag and sprinted towards the child.

“NOOO!” I screamed.

I reached him in the last possible second, scooped him up in my arms, and jumped towards the side of the road with all my strength. The lorry missed us by inches, its side mirror brushing my saree pallu.

We crashed onto the roadside dirt. I twisted my body at the last moment so that I took the full impact, protecting the child. My elbow and knee scraped badly. The glass bangles on my right wrist broke, cutting my skin slightly. But the little boy was safe.

He was crying loudly, terrified, his tiny hands tightly clutching my mangalsutra, pulling on the black beads. His face was buried in my sweaty cleavage. I held him close, my heart pounding.

“Shh… shh… it’s okay kanna… Amma is here…” I whispered instinctively, rocking him gently even though I wasn’t his mother.

Passersby came running. Some helped me up. An old man picked up my fallen handbag.

“Enna ma, are you okay? Very brave!” a woman said.

I stood there in my torn and dirty saree, bleeding from my elbow, holding this unknown child who refused to let go of my mangalsutra.

I looked around for his parents.

No one came forward. No one was shouting for him. It looked like a clear case of abandonment.

I had no choice. I carried the child to the nearest police station.

The officers were the usual lazy, corrupt type. They barely looked up from their phones.

“Madam, no missing child complaint has come today,” one constable said lazily. “Leave him in the orphanage. We will ‘search’ and inform you if anything comes.”

I argued for almost thirty minutes. They didn’t care.

With no other option, I carried the crying child out.

On the way, I stopped at a small bakery. The auntie behind the counter smiled warmly when she saw us.

“Ayyo, what a cute son you have, ma! He looks exactly like you. Poor thing is tired.”

I didn’t correct her. I just bought two buns and some milk for the boy. He ate while sitting on my lap, still holding my mangalsutra tightly.

Finally, I reached the government orphanage on the outskirts.

The building looked derelict, broken walls, dirty floors, and indifferent staff. The moment I saw the place, something inside me broke.

If I left him here, this innocent child would have no future. He would grow up like I did, alone, unwanted, fighting for every small thing in life.

I looked at his innocent face, his tiny hands still clutching my mangalsutra, his tear-streaked cheeks.

I couldn’t do it.

I turned around and started walking back towards the villa, carrying the child in my arms.

My revenge… my carefully planned destruction of everyone… would have to wait one more day.

Back at the Outhouse – Evening

Murugan was already home when I returned with the child.

He stared at me in surprise. “Enna di idhu? Whose child?”

I lowered my head like an obedient wife. “I… I found him on the road, husband. Someone abandoned him. Police didn’t help. Orphanage was very bad. I couldn’t leave him there…”

Murugan looked at the boy for a long moment, then at me.

To my surprise, he didn’t get angry.

“Bring him inside,” he said gruffly. “We’ll see what to do tomorrow.”

I nodded, feeling exhausted but strangely peaceful.

I sat on the cot, still in my dirty, torn saree, feeding the child some rice and curd I had quickly made. He leaned against my chest, playing with my mangalsutra.

As I looked at this innocent soul who had stopped my revenge today, one thought kept circling in my mind:

I could have ended everything today.

I had all the power.

But I chose to save this child instead.

And for the first time in months… I didn’t feel angry about the delay.