Chapter 4: Showdown at the Arora House

Arjun and I returned home. Uncle Ramesh, sullen but sincere, tried to pull Kabir away. I slapped his hand aside. “I remember my father-in-law’s name is Arora, not Ramesh. I don’t take random fathers, and I don’t like people teaching me rules.”

Uncle Ramesh’s polite mask almost cracked. “Madam, it was my fault. Thank you for your guidance.”

He tried to make me look aggressive, but I didn’t care. Arjun had just held a grand wedding—if we divorced, it would disgrace the family. I could do as I pleased.

I pulled Kabir onto the sofa, crossed my legs, and eyed Uncle Ramesh. “You weren’t so polite a few days ago. Should I remind you? You told me to know my place, please sir, secure my position, said you’re the Arora family’s rules. Even my father-in-law wouldn’t talk to me like that. I thought marrying into the Arora family was marrying into a wealthy home, but I didn’t expect the boss to have two fathers. Tch.”

The living room felt electric—every servant straining to hear, pretending to dust and polish, even the old clock ticking more slowly.

I scolded Uncle Ramesh, but watched Arjun. His face was so dark it could drip water. On the way back, he’d been furious but silent. His ex-wife was afraid of him, would rather hurt herself than make him unhappy. But not me. If he doesn’t talk, he’ll just die of anger.

Uncle Ramesh was sweating. “Sir, I never said that. I just wanted madam to get used to life here. I never said I am the Arora family’s rules.”

“Then check the CCTV. Let’s see who remembers right.”

Uncle Ramesh’s face stayed blank, but his eyes flashed with panic. He pressed his lips tight, then gave in. “If madam says so, I must have done wrong. Sorry for upsetting you.”

“Saying it like that makes you look aggrieved and me unreasonable. Arjun, your wife is being labelled as unreasonable and power-abusing, and you just watch? If so, I’ll take my son and move out. Before marrying, you never said the butler was the boss. If you’d said so, you could have married him. Tch.”

I rolled my eyes. Kabir looked at me with admiration, wanting to laugh but not daring. When he looked at Arjun, his smile faded. At Uncle Ramesh, he rolled his eyes.

I ruffled his hair, pulled his hand, counting his fingers—so soft.

Arjun’s face was iron. “Check the CCTV.” The assistant checked footage from my first day. They didn’t catch the words, but saw Aunty Radha let Uncle Ramesh out of the dark room, and the two hugged.

I covered Kabir’s eyes. Uncle Ramesh’s face went ashen. Aunty Radha was embarrassed and angry.

Arjun said coldly, “You’re both fired.”

But I wasn’t done. “Wait, keep watching.” The footage showed Uncle Ramesh and Aunty Radha plotting: “Priya was a rich heiress, but we still trained her like a dog. This one’s a gold digger, let her pretend for a few days. She’ll suffer soon enough.”

Kabir jumped up, pounding on Uncle Ramesh. “You bullied my mum! You should die!”

Arjun tried to pull him away. I stopped him. “Let Kabi vent. They killed his mum. If you can’t let him have feelings, don’t expect him to control them later. Don’t do to others what you don’t want for yourself.”

Arjun’s eyes deepened. “The Meera I know wouldn’t say all this.”

I shrugged. “Oh, I’m her second personality. She was so mad at you for abandoning her on the wedding night that she won’t come out. Now I’m holding the fort. You paid once, got two wives—what a deal.”

Arjun’s eyes were dark rivers, but his face stayed calm. Uncle Ramesh tried to shake Kabir off; bodyguards restrained him. Kabir tired himself out, crying hysterically, standing alone like a solitary little tree in a storm.

A child raised with love would seek a hug now. But he just stood there, knowing no one would hold him.

I went up and hugged him. He struggled, angry, but I held on. “Kabi is good, Kabi is the best. If you want to cry, cry. You want to protect your mum, take revenge for her. If she knew, she’d be proud.”

Kabir snuggled into my arms, a lost puppy. Arjun frowned but didn’t speak. After a while, Kabir cried himself to sleep. I tucked him in.

Now, time to face Arjun.

Behind the closed door, his first words: “You can’t spoil Kabir like this.”

Is he mad? Normal comfort is called spoiling? No wonder he’ll be sent to a mental hospital. I ignored him, then turned to Sameer, the assistant. “Don’t let Ramesh and Radha leave. Check how many times Ramesh punished Kabi, if Radha cooked food he hates, and how they treated Priya.”

Sameer looked to Arjun, got no objection, then agreed. I sipped kadak chai, feeling the pressure cooker’s whistle fade into loaded silence.

“What did you say just now? I shouldn’t spoil the child? How hard was your childhood that comforting is spoiling?”

Arjun’s eyes turned frosty. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me upstairs.