The evening was a crescendo of subservient labor. By 5:30 PM, I was preparing dinner—a rich, fragrant vegetable Biryani and a creamy Shahi Paneer. The kitchen was sweltering, but I couldn't wipe my brow for fear of ruining my meticulously applied foundation and smoky eyeshadow.
Priya returned from college at 6:00 PM. She slammed her bag onto the hallway console. "Rahul! I'm starving. Is my food ready?"
"Yes, Priya," I hurried out, fetching a hot plate of food just for her, setting it before her in the informal dining area. I stood a few feet away, my hands clasped in front of my saree, waiting silently in case she needed a water refill or extra napkins.
Ananya arrived home at 7:30 PM. The moment I heard her heels click on the marble, my heart skipped a beat. I practically ran to the foyer to take her briefcase. "Welcome home, Ananya ji," I murmured, my eyes fixed on her designer shoes.
"Thank you, Rahul. Dinner in thirty minutes," she commanded, not breaking stride as she walked to her study.
Dinner was a grand affair. The whole family of seven sat together. I did not sit. I stood at the corner of the dining room, holding a cloth napkin, stepping forward only to serve. I served Babuji and Maji first, then Ananya, then Priya, and finally the children. The heavy chandelier earrings swung wildly as I leaned over to spoon hot biryani onto their plates, my cleavage proudly on display as demanded by my wife.
"The paneer is a little salty today, Rahul," Ananya remarked coldly, taking a sip of water.
My breath hitched. "I apologize, Ananya ji. I will be more careful tomorrow." The light reprimand stung, but it also reinforced my place. I was imperfect; I needed her guidance.
Once they were finished, I cleared the massive table, stacking dozens of dishes. While Sunita took out the final trash, I washed every plate, polished the silverware, and wiped down the counters until they gleamed.
At 9:00 PM, I ushered the children up to their rooms, ensuring their teeth were brushed and their pajamas were on. I tucked them in, kissing their foreheads.
Then came the most humbling part of the evening. The five adults—Ananya, Maji, Babuji, and Priya—gathered in the main living room to watch television and discuss their days. I was required to stand in the corner of the room, at full attention, my hands clasped behind my back, my chest thrust out, in my painful 6-inch stilettos. I stood there for a full hour, a silent, ornate statue of a housewife, lowering my eyes anytime one of them glanced my way, while they chatted and laughed, completely ignoring my aching back and burning feet.
Discussion (2)
Great story, if you could add how and why he accepted this role it will be great
Thank you. I am kind of against the idea on how and why my characters accept their role. I feel its good if users imagine themselves why it happened, we all have our own background stories, i want everyone to feel they are part of the story where they are living their best life, and they can imaging their own background on how they reached there. But if people think they want me to add background of these characters I will add it. Let me know. Thank you again for your comment, really appreciate it.