Chapter 21

That night, the girls went to bed with a little bit of ease in their hearts. Something had changed, they both knew. 

Sharini lay on the makeshift mattress in the hall, a couple of towels over a mat and pillows, the same one she had quietly claimed weeks ago after everything fell apart. The sound of Sheetal moving about in the bedroom came like a soft punctuation — a tap of glass being placed on a table, the soft click of the fan switch.

It wasn’t tense anymore, but it wasn’t ordinary either. 

Sharini lay on her side, hand tucked under her cheek, staring at the shadow lines on the ceiling. She felt almost weightless. For weeks, her sleep had been thick and heavy, as if she had been sinking inside herself, but now she could feel the thin quiet of peace tracing her skin. A peace so fragile, she was scared to breathe too loudly.

She closed her eyes knowing Sheetal was only a few steps away — behind that half-closed door, maybe lying awake too. Hopefully not from fear or pain this time. That thought was enough to still her mind.

………..

Sharini had two missed calls from her mother when she woke up the next morning. It was confusing — her mother never called her unless there was some issue. 

Then she saw the message.
Nothing. I just felt like talking to you. When will you come back for Deepavali?

Sharini stared at the words for a moment, thumb hovering. 

Then she typed back —18th.

Two weeks. 

She sighed. Not a single festival ever passed without some kind of chaos at home. “There’s always something”, she mumbled to herself, pushing herself to fully wake up.

And she moved on with the day. There are some thoughts that are better left unattended.

The rain had thinned by morning, leaving the coastal city rinsed in grey light. The fan creaked its slow circle above, pushing the faint smell of  wet clothes and last night’s breeze through the room. 

Sheetal stirred first, blinking into the dim half-light. From the hall came the sound of tumblers clinking, water running in the sink. Sharini was already awake, moving about with the quiet efficiency that used to anchor Sheetal. Sheetal pushed the blanket away and walked out, her hair still mussed from sleep.

Sheetal paused for a second, watching. Sharini, hair loosely tied, walked across the kitchen, wearing an old T-shirt that had definitely been Sheetal’s once upon a time. She was rinsing the kettle and lighting the stove, completely unaware of being observed. 

“Morning,” she said finally, voice small.

Sharini glanced up from the stove. “Morning,” she returned, almost automatically.

She pointed to the table,  “Tea’s there, add some sugar to it… If you can find the right box”, she playfully challenged — but her tone was warm. There was no trace of hesitation, no sharp edge left between them.

“Don’t start”, Sheetal warned. 

“Why? I’m curious to see when you’ll finally learn”. 

“You could just label the boxes, you know”.

“And spoil the treasure hunt?” 

Sheetal rolled her eyes. “One day, I’ll reorganize this whole shelf”.

“Touch anything, I’ll reorganize you“, Sharini threatened, but a smile slipped out anyway. 

They shared tea in near silence, the kind that hummed with something new, unspoken. The morning felt stretched and soft — a Sunday that demanded nothing.

“So,” Sharini said eventually, “what’s the grand plan for today?”

Sheetal shrugged. “Laundry. Fold clothes. Maybe clean up the place. It’s a mess.”

Sharini teased, stretching. “Who are you and what have you done with my lazy flatmate?”

“Shut up”, Sheetal grinned, grateful for the ordinariness of things. They divided the house wordlessly — one taking the kitchen, the other the bedroom. They started with the clothes, Sharini skimming through the washed pile, just crumpling them flatter, while Sheetal meticulously shook out every article, and then made the perfect creases. Peace lasted for 3 minutes.

“Can you atleast fold it the same size twice?”, Sheetal said.

“I am. The clothes are shrinking differently! That’s not my fault!” 

It wasn’t long before Sheetal shooed Sharini away, “You do something else, I’ll take care of the clothes”. 

The hall filled with the familiar hum of domestic life — the whir of the washing machine, the clink of hangers, the dull slap of wet fabric. Sheetal folded clothes slowly, distracted by the soft rhythm of Sharini’s hums as she continued dusting the kitchen windows. Every now and then, she caught herself smiling at something the other did or said. 

By mid-morning, the sun had turned bright and sharp through the window. Sharini, wiping her forehead, muttered, “We should really get that curtain rod fixed.”

Sheetal smirked. “Or you could stop complaining and hold this saree straight.”

“Oh, so now you need me?”

And just like that, the banter, the rhythm of old times, returned like muscle memory.

Later, while clearing up the hall, Sheetal lingered at the corner again. The folded towel-bed looked oddly out of place now, like an unspoken remainder of a rift already healing. She bent down quietly, picked up the pillow, and carried it to the bedroom. She held them for a long moment, then began folding. The fabric smelled faintly of talc and rain. The space in the hall looked oddly bare now, as if some small piece of grief had been lifted away.

Sharini noticed a few minutes later. She stood near the window, holding the broom mid-air, eyes fixed on the now-empty corner that had held weeks of hurt. She said nothing, though her movements had slowed. Then she went back to sweeping, her lips curving into a faint smile.

They had lunch together — simple curd rice and chopped potato fry — sitting cross-legged on the floor. It was nothing special, yet the air between them felt almost fragile with relief. They spoke of radio shows, of errands, of things that didn’t matter but suddenly did.

By afternoon, rain began again, gentle this time. The balcony tiles were slick, cool underfoot. When they stepped out to pull the clothes in, a stubborn gust of wind sent the bedsheet flying up and over both of them.

“Don’t move, you’ll fall,” Sheetal said, voice muffled under cotton.”Who’s going to catch me?””I’m right here,” Sheetal answered — too fast.

They froze for a second under the fabric, the world tinted pale green through its weave. Then they burst into laughter, breathless and tangled.  It was light, clumsy, uncontrollable.

When the power cut in the evening, they didn’t bother complaining. A candle was lit, placed on the dining table where its flame danced between them. The small flat, usually so cluttered, seemed to breathe easier in that amber light.

Later, when night came, Sharini paused at the hall again, out of habit. Her usual corner waited — empty, expectant. She turned toward the bedroom.  The single mattress looked… right again. She hesitated at the doorway for a moment.

Sheetal was already lying on her side, eyes half open, scrolling through her phone, the faint light softening her face. The fan stirred the strands of hair across her forehead. 

Sharini crossed the room, set her pillow down beside the mattress, then hesitated only long enough to switch off the light. When she lay down beside her — careful, not too close, not too far. And ever so slowly, the air shifted — two slow breaths finding each other again, falling into rhythm.

“Good night,” Sharini murmured.

Sheetal smiled, barely visible in the dark. “Good night.”

Something had changed, again — quietly this time, and exactly how it needed to.

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A/N:

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts about the story and the writing style so far. 

I understand that the updates are slow, and I promise to try and give more frequent updates. Please bare with me. Thank you for understanding 🙂

Also, trying out the new Poll feature with this chapter. Please share your thoughts.

Happy weekend!