The morning light spilled across the room, soft and golden. Gauri stirred awake and blinked at the sight that waited for her. Draped across the chair was a pink flowery saree, delicate as if woven out of dawn itself. Resting on top of it was a letter.
Her brows furrowed as she reached for it. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Wear this and come downstairs.
Just one line, signed by Vihaan.
Gauri held the letter a little longer, her heartbeat uneven. "Pink," she whispered, fingers brushing the fabric. "How… how does he even know this is my favorite color?"
The question lingered in her chest as she slipped into the saree, the soft folds embracing her like a secret. She left her hair loose, cascading down her shoulders. Standing before the mirror, she caught her own reflection glowing more than she wished to admit.
A sigh escaped her lips, half-poem, half-confession.
Why these sudden gifts, Vihaan?
Like raindrops falling without clouds
Is it guilt you wish to cover
Or a feeling you dare not say aloud?
Her eyes softened despite herself, her hand resting on the mirror as though she could touch the answer.
Gauri smiled faintly as she adjusted the folds of her saree. "My day will surely turn out good," she murmured to herself, "since the stern ACP Vihaan Kothari actually thought of gifting me something today."
She stepped out of the room, her bangles chiming softly as she walked down the long corridor, her steps unhurried, her heart lighter than it had been in days.
But suddenly—
"Jalpanchi…"
The voice was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind. Gauri froze mid-step, her head snapping toward the source. Her eyes landed on a portrait of the Goddess, adorned with marigolds, its painted eyes glimmering under the flicker of an oil lamp.
Her lips parted. "Did… did that portrait just say something?" she whispered, clutching her saree pallu. "I've heard walls can speak, but now portraits too?"
She turned away with a nervous laugh. "Anyways… my in-laws' house isn't like any other house. Maybe the portrait just felt like talking today." She shook her head, brushing it aside, and took a step forward.
But again—
"Jalpanchi…"
This time, the word was clearer, closer.
Gauri spun around, eyes wide. "Jalpanchi? Who is that?"
Hesitation gave way to curiosity, and she slowly walked toward the portrait. Folding her hands, she bowed before the Goddess, her voice trembling but sincere.
"Are you… directly speaking to me, Devi maa? Is your network signal that strong?" A shaky smile tugged at her lips as she searched the still eyes of the painting.
And then, as if pulled from her heart, words slipped out like a prayer in verse—
If portraits begin to speak
Then perhaps truths are nearer than I think
If walls can whisper, if silence can cry
Then Goddess, your voice must reach the sky
She bowed lower, her voice softer now. "Tell me… is this really you? Or am I just losing my mind in this strange house?"
Gauri kept staring at the portrait, her brows knitting tighter the longer she looked. The silence around her stretched, heavy, unbroken. No voice came again. Only the faint crackle of the oil lamp.
She exhaled, almost laughing at herself. "I must be overhearing things… fasting, sleepless nights, shadow realm—maybe it's all catching up to me." Shaking her head, she turned to leave.
Clink.
The sound was sharp against the stillness. She stopped mid-step, her head turning slowly. Something small had fallen from the frame of the portrait, rolling on the floor until it came to rest near her feet.
It was a ring.
Her breath caught. She bent down, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. The moment her skin touched it, a strange current shot through her veins—not painful, but powerful, like a secret heartbeat hidden inside the silver.
Gauri frowned, her lips parting as though the ring itself had whispered to her. She traced the delicate carvings along its band, intricate swirls that almost looked like waves frozen in motion.
Without realizing when or how, she slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly, as though it had been waiting for her all along.
And then—
Her pulse slowed, her breathing deepened, and for a fleeting moment, she felt… whole. As if some part of her long scattered across lifetimes had just returned.
Gauri lifted her hand, the ring gleaming faintly in the light, and whispered, "Why do I… feel like you've always belonged to me?"
Gauri stared at the ring glittering on her finger, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Oh Gauri, what have you done? You wore the ring without even thinking. What if it belongs to a member of the family?"
She tugged at it gently, expecting it to slip off as easily as it had slipped on. But it didn't budge. She pulled harder, twisting her finger, but the band clung to her skin as though it had grown roots there.
Her brows arched in disbelief. "It seems… it's stuck? But how can a ring get stuck this fast?" She sighed, throwing her free hand up. "Fine. I'll solve your issue later. For now, let me head downstairs."
Adjusting her saree pallu, Gauri turned away from the portrait, her anklets jingling softly as she walked down the corridor. The glow of morning sunlight spilled across the stairs, guiding her descent.
But the portrait behind her seemed to shimmer faintly for a fleeting moment, as though the goddess herself was watching.
To be continued…