ch-3. The wait of shadows
916 Words
The morning began like every other, but Sakshi could sense from the heaviness in her chest that something was waiting to break.
She reached the office a few minutes late. Her hair was still damp from the drizzle, her kurta slightly wrinkled. As she stepped into the buzzing floor, the familiar wave of chatter and clattering keyboards washed over her.
“Sakshi, boss is already asking for you,” whispered Ananya, who caught her at the entrance. Her eyes were sympathetic but tinged with worry.
Sakshi’s heart dropped. “What did I do now?” she asked softly.
Ananya shook her head. “Just go. He’s in a mood today.”
---
Inside the glass-walled cabin, Rajiv, her manager, leaned over a file, irritation etched into his face.
“Come in,” he said sharply when Sakshi knocked.
She obeyed, clutching her notebook.
“Sakshi, what’s going on with you?” His voice was clipped. “Your reports are late, your attention in meetings is somewhere else, and yesterday you missed a client call. This is not acceptable.”
Her throat went dry. “I—I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Rajiv sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “You’re smart, no doubt. But lately, it feels like you’re here only in body, not in mind. If you want to grow in this company, you need focus. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Fix it. Or we’ll have to rethink your responsibilities.”
His words struck like stones. She murmured another apology and slipped out of the room, her chest burning.
---
Back at her desk, she tried to look composed, but her hands trembled as she typed. Ananya came over, placing a coffee on her table.
“Don’t take him to heart. Rajiv shouts at everyone,” Ananya whispered kindly.
Sakshi forced a weak smile. “Yeah.”
“You know, if you need help, you can tell me,” Ananya added, her voice softening.
Sakshi hesitated, the urge to speak rising inside her like a bubble. Tell her. Tell someone you’re not okay.
But then she shook her head. “It’s fine, Ananya. Really.”
The bubble burst into silence.
---
By afternoon, she was running on autopilot, staring at screens without absorbing anything. The hum of office voices blurred into a distant drone, until one comment cut through.
Rohan leaned over with his trademark smirk. “Sakshi, you’ve been staring at that screen for half an hour. Are you meditating or just in love with Excel?”
Laughter erupted around them.
Sakshi gave a polite smile. “Just… focusing.”
Inside, she screamed. If only you knew how hard I’m trying to hold myself together.
---
That evening, on her way home, she took the metro as usual. But instead of scrolling her phone, she stared at the raindrops streaking the glass, each drop blurring the view of the city outside.
Her reflection stared back—tired eyes, hollow cheeks, lips pressed tight. She barely recognized herself.
And then, uninvited, the past crept in.
---
Flashback
She was ten again, sitting in the corner of a small room. Her father’s voice thundered, his anger shaking the walls.
“Why is the food always cold? Can’t you do anything right?” he barked at her mother.
Her mother stood silently, tears glistening but unfallen.
Sakshi had wanted to shout, Stop! Don’t hurt her! But her small voice never came. She had only clutched her stuffed rabbit tighter, watching helplessly as silence became her shield.
“Beta, stay in your room,” her mother had whispered once, when the shouting grew unbearable. “It’s safer that way.”
---
The flashback ended as the metro jerked to a halt. Sakshi blinked rapidly, her chest tight, her nails digging into her palm.
When she finally reached home, her mother was watching TV in the living room, the faint noise filling the otherwise empty house.
“You’re late today,” her mother said softly.
Sakshi forced a smile. “Work.”
Her father was already asleep—or passed out. The smell of alcohol lingered faintly in the air.
She excused herself and went to her room.
---
That night, alone in the dim light of her desk lamp, Sakshi opened her diary. She stared at the blank page for a long time before finally writing:
“I don’t know how much longer I can carry this weight. I feel like I’m breaking, but no one sees it. Maybe no one ever will.”
Her pen hovered, then scrawled another line:
“I scream inside every day. But silence is the only sound that comes out.”
She dropped the pen and buried her face in her hands. The room spun with the weight of shadows pressing down on her.
---
The clock ticked past midnight. Her phone buzzed—a message from Ananya:
“Don’t forget tomorrow’s client meeting. Good night :)”
Sakshi stared at the screen. For a moment, she almost typed, “I’m not okay.”
Her thumb hovered. Then she erased the words and simply typed back:
“Good night.”
She switched off her phone and curled up in bed. The rain outside grew heavier, tapping against the glass, as if mocking her.
And in the darkness, she whispered to herself, words she would never say aloud:
“I don’t know if I can keep living like this.”
---
- Writer
