Chapter 4: Broken Birthdays

4

Every year on my birthday, Meera takes the day off just for me.

She goes to the mandi ten kilometres away to find the freshest vegetables. She cleans, chops, fries, and simmers all day, just to make a special meal for when I come home.

I always finish work early, rush home, and we share chores, laughter, and dinner.

But this year, Ritu called.

"Can I celebrate your birthday with you?"

I paused for two seconds, then said yes.

For the past six months, Ritu kept her word—never making demands. After every time we were together, she double-checked that nothing seemed out of place.

I guessed she must be lonely.

It's understandable.

Meera and I have all the days and nights ahead—plenty more birthdays to come. Missing one wouldn't matter.

I called Meera and told her I had a banquet with city officials, so I'd be late.

In the kitchen, amid the sizzle of tadka, she asked, "Hmm, what time will you be back?"

"Around seven," I replied.

"Okay."

Seven sounded about right.

But the moment I walked into Ritu's rented flat, she kissed me—hungry, urgent.

She'd sent Aryan to a friend's house and wore a sheer, seductive saree, her hair let down.

She was bold, almost wild.

In bed, she seemed like she wanted to devour me, trying every possible way, over and over.

I lost track of time—when I finally checked my phone, it was already eleven.

Panic rose as I scrambled to get dressed.

Ritu suddenly clung to me, gently bit my shoulder, then, eyes red, whispered, "It's my fault. I shouldn't have kept you so long today."

Seeing her like that, guilt washed over me again.

I reassured her, "Soon, I'll take you away for a few days. We'll be like a real couple. You can call me 'husband', whatever you like."

She managed a teary smile. "Such a smooth talker."

When I finally rushed home, I assumed Meera would be asleep.

She always sticks to her routine—bed by eleven, up by seven, like clockwork.

But when I walked in, I saw her asleep at the dining table.

The table was covered with dishes, flowers, and a birthday cake.

As I checked myself in the mirror by the door, making sure I looked alright, I went over and gently woke her.

Meera opened her eyes, blinking up at me.

A second later, she smiled. "Hubby, happy birthday."

I pursed my lips. "Why'd you sleep here?"

She yawned. "You said you'd be home by seven, so I wanted to wait for you on your birthday. But you were with city officials, so I didn't want to bother you. Didn't think I'd fall asleep here."

WhatsApp pings lit up her phone screen, but she ignored them, absent-mindedly doodling with a spoon on the tablecloth.

"You haven't eaten?" I asked, a bit shocked.

"I tasted so much while cooking, I'm not hungry anymore," she said, trying to smile.

Looking at her, a strange irritation rose in me. I snapped, "Are you mad? If I haven't come home by now, I must've eaten outside. Couldn't you eat first?"

Meera froze. After a few seconds, she asked softly,

"What's wrong?"

I realised at once. "Sorry, I shouldn't have shouted. I'm just tired today. I'll go to bed first."

I escaped to the bedroom.

Lying there, that pointless anger still gnawed at me. I heard the rustle of her entering, felt her warmth as she snuggled up behind me.

"Hubby, I'm sorry. I know you worry about me going hungry. I promise, next time I'll eat. Did you have a tough day? Want to do something fun?"

That's our unspoken rule—when one of us is upset, the other tries to bridge the gap with a little intimacy.

I knew I shouldn't be angry, so I tried to let it go.

But maybe I'd done it too many times with Ritu—tonight, I just couldn't get in the mood.

The more I tried, the more restless I felt, and nothing worked.

I kept my voice low. "Leave it tonight."

Meera, thinking I was sulking, tried to tickle me, laughing softly.

I lost my temper. "Enough. Can't you have some self-respect?"

Meera's hand froze.

In the dim light, she stared at me, eyes wide.

I saw the pain shimmering in her gaze, and for the first time, she looked like a stranger. A thick silence grew between us, heavier than anything before. I turned away and shut my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.

After a moment, Meera quietly got up, walked to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and drank it slowly—her back straight, her movements deliberate. Only when she'd finished did she speak, her voice trembling but controlled.