Fractured Bonds

The soft light of the oil lamp flickered in the small, one-room house as Deepak lay fast asleep on a frayed mattress in the corner. Outside, DeepRaj village was quiet, with only the distant howl of a jackal and the whisper of leaves in the wind. But inside Milan and Puja's house, the quiet was about to shatter.

Puja sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands resting on the bright red saree she had bought earlier that day. The fabric shimmered under the weak light, a sharp contrast to the dull, broken pots scattered near the kitchen area. Across from her, Milan rummaged through an old wooden box, frustration evident in his movements.

"Rather than performing this poor blacksmith's task," Puja eventually spoke up, her tone full of annoyance, "why don't you just go and do some labor work? Perhaps you'll create something useful for a change!"

Milan ground his teeth, slamming the box closed more forcefully than needed. "Blacksmithing is my passion, okay? You were aware of this before we were wed. Leave everything else behind. Tell me, what have you prepared for dinner today?"

Puja laughed. "Is there even food in the house? There's nothing left to cook. No groceries for dinner."

Milan faced her, arms folded. "What did you do with the forty silver coins I gave you for groceries?"

Puja waved her wrist in a dismissive gesture. "I spent it."

Milan's face grew dark. "Spent it? On what?"

She paused before smoothing her saree lightly, as if dusting off imaginary specks. "I bought something important."

Milan clenched his fists. "Okay, fine. I'm going to shop for groceries. I don't want to talk much to you today."

Storming away to the corner where he had his savings, he threw open the wooden box—only to discover it was empty.

"I had kept some money here! Where did it go?" he bellowed, his face red.

Puja leaned back against the wall, pretending innocence. "How would I know where you kept it?"

Milan's breathing became deeper. "Lie! I know you spent our money again on silly things!"

Puja raised an eyebrow. "Why? What happened? This saree I purchased costs seven gold and forty silver! It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Milan saw his words crush him like a sledge hammer pounding red hot steel. "Seven gold and forty silver? How do you know how much money that is? I had collected that for Deepak's future!"

Puja sneered with laughter. "You can work for the right to make money for me, and I will use it on anything that suits me! What are you doing trying to give your opinions?"

Milan shook his head in shock. "I am not doing this for myself! I'm doing it for our child! Do you have any idea what seven gold and forty silver could have done for us? That could have paid our groceries for five years!"

Puja gazed up at the ceiling, her face impassive. "To me, it's not my child. It's your child."

The words sliced deeper than any knife Milan had ever made. His hands shook, but not from anger—of sorrow. "He is your son too! He looks up to you, he loves you, but you. you actually despise him within! You want to treat him like a toy!"

Puja's face was still chilly. "I never wanted to marry you. My family made me."

Milan let out a harsh breath, massaging his forehead. "You might have at least attempted—for our family, for Deepak's sake."

Puja's tone trembled faintly, but she covered it with indignation. "What is the point of trying if nothing ever improves? Look at us. I'm married to a blacksmith who can't even manage his finances!"

Milan's patience finally gave way. "I am a blacksmith, but I have earned everything we have! At least I do not spend money on useless things!"

Puja jumped up from her seat. "Oh, yes! You've worked hard, but where has it taken us? Nowhere!"

Milan's fists were clenched. "And what about you? Spending on sarees and jewelry while our child does not get proper food!"

Puja's eyes flared with fury. "You believe because you've worked hard, you get to control everything? Decide what I can and can't do?"

Milan's expression softened for an instant. "It's not about controlling you. It's about being responsible, about considering our future."

Puja laughed hollowly. "Future? There is no future. We are living from day to day, and you are still working in your small blacksmithing shop."

Milan took a step forward. "At least I am doing something! What have you done but complain and spend?"

Puja's mouth curled into pretended amusement. "I am doing everything! It is not simple to manage a household with someone like you!"

Milan's voice fell to a whisper, but the heat remained. "You're running a household? You're spending our hard-earned cash on wasteful things, and then you complain when there's nothing for the necessities!"

Puja's fists clenched. "Oh, and you're flawless, right? You think you're the only one working around here?"

Milan took a deep breath, his anger dissipating. "It's not about being perfect. It's about being a team."

Puja turned aside, bitterness creeping into her tone. "A team? Where? You're off banging metal, and I'm left with the aftermath of your foolishness."

Milan's shoulders slumped. "We'll make do. But we have to at least try. for our family."

Puja walked away from him, her eyes fixed on the little window, her face inscrutable. But somewhere within, an idea grew roots—If I get a decent man who is rich, I will move away from this house. I can no longer live with this individual.

The darkness of night only made Milan sit on the ground, his heart weighed down. His wife was already envisioning a future without him, and he had no idea.

Half-dozing in the corner, Deepak had overheard it all.