A short story.
The young woman sat alone on the train, her face showing no emotions whatsoever. Her hair had been messily slapped back into a pony, and her dark eyes peeped out of the window, looking, but not seeing.
The intricate design of bright red mehendi still remained on her delicate hands, despite all her violent attempts to wash it away. Just like the mehendi, the pain couldn't be washed away either.
She closed her eyes, and rested her head on the seat of her berth, replaying the day that she had been so convinced would be the best day of her life – her wedding day.
“I like the silver one better,” she had said for the millionth time to her mother, who held the neglected gold necklace in her tired hands.
“Oh fine! Wear that one for all you want, Niharika,” her mother said with a heavy sigh.
She smiled at her mother’s reflection in the mirror, “I love you mom.”
“I love you too beta,” said her mother after a minute, choking on the last word.
That was the last happy memory she had of her life which seemed so far away. She wanted to leave the baggage of her past behind, but her heart ache wouldn't let her.
Every time she had a happy thought, she cursed herself.
Happiness seemed a sin to her, for she’d become a widow even before she’d gotten married.
