In the author's narrative, this supposedly kind and gentle 'true daughter' didn't seem so kind at all. Everywhere in the text, hints of Meera Sharma's (formerly Rani Deshmukh's) selfishness and hidden schemes were scattered like breadcrumbs.
[Rani never truly cared about the Deshmukh Family. Otherwise, why would she have rushed to change her name to Meera Sharma the moment she returned to the city?]
Anaya Deshmukh thought to herself. Fortunately, she had a thick skin and wasn't the original host. Otherwise, facing these cast-off clothes and her biological mother's casual words, any real daughter with a shred of sensitivity would have been heartbroken.
Hearing her daughter's unspoken thoughts, Seema Verma froze on the spot.
Her gaze landed on Anaya Deshmukh. She was so thin—just skin and bones—with dull, yellowed hair and a complexion darker than even the hardest-working villagers.
How had they ever believed that Anaya lived a prosperous life in the city?
And then there was Rani… pampered since childhood, never having done a single day's labor, with soft, plump skin, the picture of comfort and privilege.
The more Seema Verma thought about it, the more her heart clenched. Her eyes turned red, and she could no longer hold back. She dropped her chopsticks and ran straight into the house.
"Seema, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Anil Deshmukh immediately got up and followed after her.
Kavita Deshmukh, seeing this, glared at Anaya Deshmukh. "This is your fault! You must have upset Mother! What's so bad about wearing Rani's clothes? They're way better than those rags you're wearing. You're just ungrateful!"
Anaya Deshmukh remained expressionless, not bothering to respond.
Vikram Deshmukh, sitting at the side, remained silent, as if this had nothing to do with him.
Inside the room, Seema Verma finally broke down and cried.
Anil Deshmukh panicked. "What's wrong? Why are you crying? Did Anaya say something to upset you? That girl is ungrateful. Just ignore her! If she doesn't want to wear Rani's clothes, let her be!" He patted his wife's back, trying to comfort her.
Seema Verma shook her head, eyes filled with guilt. In a choked voice, she said, "No, it's us. We made Anaya suffer. We are the ones who wronged her…"
She then recounted what she had just 'realized' through Anaya Deshmukh's thoughts, though she disguised it as her own conjecture.
"…If Anaya really spent the past fifteen years in the countryside, just imagine what her life must have been like."
"Look at her—so thin, nothing but skin and bones. Her complexion is dark, her hair is brittle—these are signs of malnutrition; she looked like she had been struggling for survival. Like those pitiful orphans left behind with no one to care for them. How could we ever have ever believed she lived a prosperous life in the city? And worse… how could I have been so blind as to never question it until now??
"Meanwhile, Rani was raised like a little princess. We sent her to school, never let her do a day's work, always gave her the best clothes. We raised her with such care… But Anaya? While we were doting on someone else's daughter, our own flesh and blood was suffering out there, and we had no idea! Anil, how could we have been so blind?"
Tears streamed down her face. "And do you know what's even worse? I don't think this was an accident. I suspect… I suspect Rani's biological parents did this on purpose."
"What do you mean?" Anil Deshmukh stiffened.
"Think about it! They were in the countryside too, weren't they? If they had truly taken Anaya as their own, why didn't they take her back to the city when they had the chance? Why did they leave her behind while they went back to enjoy a good life? But the moment they returned, they 'coincidentally' discovered that Rani wasn't their real daughter? And just as quickly, they found Rani's real family?"
"Doesn't it seem too perfect? Almost as if they deliberately switched the babies, so their real daughter wouldn't have to suffer in the countryside…"
Seema Verma's voice trembled with rising fury. "And they succeeded. Our Anaya was left to fend for herself, starving and working like a labourer, while their precious daughter was raised by us in comfort and love!"
Anil Deshmukh's mind was reeling.
It was as if a fog had suddenly lifted, revealing an ugly truth he had been too blind to see before.
"Seema… what if you're right? What if this wasn't an accident at all?" His fists clenched. "I'll look into it. I'll find out the truth. If they really did this on purpose, I won't let them off so easily!"
Anil Deshmukh wasn't just an ordinary villager—he had connections. Years ago, he had saved someone important, and that person had helped him get a job at the textile factory. He was one of the very few villagers who had successfully become a salaried worker in the city. If he dug into this, he might just find something.
"Yes, Anil! You must find out!" Seema Verma wiped her tears. "As for Anaya… I'll take care of her. We owe her so much. She's our real daughter, and we will make it up to her."
Anaya Deshmukh, meanwhile, was unaware of this conversation. After lunch, she returned to her room to rest. Her body was still weak from years of hardship, and even with her strong will, she needed time to recover.
While she was resting, Seema Verma quietly entered her room.
Anaya Deshmukh felt a gaze upon her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Seema Verma looking at her with an odd mixture of warmth, sorrow, and regret—like a mother gazing at a long-lost child who had suffered far too much.
For a moment, Anaya Deshmukh almost let herself believe in it. Almost.
But she quickly snapped out of it.
[No, Anaya Deshmukh. Stay clear-headed. Your 'mother' doesn't love you. She only loves Rani.]
Hearing this, Seema Verma felt her heart ache even more. She wanted to say something—wanted to tell her daughter that she was wrong, that she did love her—but the words stuck in her throat.