Chapter 6: Unspoken Boundaries

My heart trembled, leaving me a bit dazed. I pressed my palm to my chest, hoping he wouldn’t see the wild beating beneath my skin.

He stood up, his tall figure looming over me. The room seemed to shrink, the air charged with something I didn’t have words for.

My heart pounded wildly, my mind full of the images from that booklet, my breath caught in my throat. I averted my gaze, the flush on my cheeks deepening.

After a moment, Arjun turned and walked toward the door.

He paused at the door, straightened the doormat with his foot, then disappeared into the corridor.

As the night breeze swept in, I snapped back to my senses. The curtain fluttered, bringing with it the scent of jasmine from the garden below.

He had already disappeared into the darkness.

I wondered to myself:

Just now, when he looked at me, his eyes were full of shock.

Could it be that he was… frightened by my…?

Before bed, I resolved to bind my chest even tighter the next morning. I rummaged through my trunk, searching for the old, sturdy cloth Amma had given me—'for emergencies,' she’d said.

Half-awake, half-asleep, Arjun returned.

His hair was dripping with water.

So he had just gone to bathe. I caught a whiff of sandal soap and fresh air, the kind of scent that clings to men returning from the terrace after a rain.

When I woke the next day, he was already gone.

The maid, Sunita, came in to help me dress, and outside I heard a man sneezing again and again.

The housekeeper asked with concern, 'Colonel, why didn’t you call me to heat water for your bath last night? Even though it’s summer, the nights are still cool. Look at you—catching a chill from a cold bath. I’ll go make you some ginger tea.' His fussing was so typical of old retainers, their love hidden beneath complaints.

I looked up at Sunita and asked, 'Does the Colonel like cold baths?'

'I don’t know, madam.' She shrugged, eyes wide and curious.

I told her to leave and locked the door.

I wound the binding around my chest again and again. Each pull tighter than the last, I prayed silently that this would make me less of a distraction, less of a burden.

These days, women all pursue slenderness, but I am voluptuous and curvy. I remembered Amma’s words: 'Some girls are made for poetry, not for fashion.'

If the Colonel doesn’t like it, it’s only natural. I tried to swallow the ache, telling myself it’s better to be invisible.