The car moved slowly through the congested streets of Kuala Lumpur, the towering skyline casting long shadows as the evening lights flickered to life. Athavan stirred, finally opening his eyes after pretending to sleep for the past hour. Dhiviya, who had been stealing occasional glances at him, turned toward him, noticing how his calm gaze settled on the bustling city outside.
Breaking the silence, she hesitantly asked, "Have you been to KL before?"
Athavan remained quiet for a few seconds before responding in his usual composed tone. "Yes. Six months ago when I arrived in Malaysia." He took a deep breath, then added, "I was born here. When I was three years old, I followed my mother to India after my parents' divorce."
Dhiviya was taken aback. This was the longest sentence he had spoken since she met him. His voice held no bitterness, no sadness, just a simple statement of fact.
Feeling a little more at ease, she asked, "What happened to your mother?"
Athavan turned his head toward her, his sharp eyes studying her face seriously. "Can we not talk about this?" he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "When the time is right, I will tell you."
His response made Dhiviya uncomfortable. She wanted to know more about him, but she also knew she was pushing too much. She decided to let it go for now, turning her gaze forward, but she could feel the tension lingering between them. After a short silence, she sighed and spoke again.
"I… I just wanted to tell you that my family is kind of chaotic."
Athavan gave her a sidelong glance, but his expression remained unreadable. She continued, "My family depends on my uncle's family for everything. My parents listen to him in all decisions. We owe them so much, so they control everything we do. Honestly… I hate my cousins. They can be hateful. When you meet them, just ignore them, okay? Don't argue with them. I just hate trouble."
Athavan observed her quietly. He found her serious expression oddly amusing, but he remained indifferent, his face betraying no emotion.
As the car approached a large bungalow house, there was no sign of a warm welcome. In Indian tradition, the bride and groom were usually welcomed with ceremonial blessings, but here, there was nothing. Dhiviya felt embarrassed and glanced apologetically at Athavan before pressing the doorbell. She rang it once, twice—still no answer.
She rang it again.
Silence.
Peering through the grill door, she saw movement inside. Someone was peeking at them.
"Anjana! Anjana!" she called out, recognizing her cousin.
Anjana, who had been hiding behind the curtains, smirked to herself before turning away, ignoring them.
Minutes passed. No one came to the door. Dhiviya clenched her fists in frustration. Athavan, standing beside her, took note of everything silently. He bent down, picked up a small stone, and with precise aim, tossed it through the slightly open window.
A loud thud echoed, followed by an angry shriek. "Argh! Who threw that?!"
Anjana stormed outside, rubbing her forehead. She looked around in anger but found no culprit. No one could have thrown it so accurately through the window without being seen. Still rubbing her forehead, she suddenly pretended to notice them.
"Oh! Dhiviya! I didn't know you were here! Why didn't you call?" she said with fake surprise, acting as though she had just seen them.
Dhiviya forced a smile. "I did… multiple times."
Soon, her uncle, Raja Shekar, and his wife, Leela, came out onto the porch. Unlike a warm welcome, they merely stood there, staring.
Raja Shekar cleared his throat and began speaking in English, as if he were addressing employees rather than family. "So, Dhiviya, I assume everything went smoothly with the wedding? That's good. Now, I need you to report to the office tomorrow. There's an important client presentation at noon. We need you there. No delays."
His tone left no room for argument. There was no greeting, no acknowledgment of her new husband standing beside her. Athavan was being treated like air. The conversation was solely about Dhiviya's responsibilities.
Then, Anjana's gaze landed on the BMW X5 parked in the driveway. Her eyes darkened with jealousy.
"Whose car is that?" she asked.
"It was a wedding gift from my father-in-law," Dhiviya replied hesitantly.
Anjana's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh? Must be nice… Actually, you know what? Why don't we swap cars for a few days? I'll take this one, and you can use my Bezza."
She wasn't asking. She was ordering.
Dhiviya's stomach twisted in frustration. She glanced at Athavan, hoping for some support, but he remained indifferent as if none of this concerned him. Seeing no way out, she reluctantly agreed.
Their driver quickly transferred their belongings from the BMW to Anjana's Bezza.
As they were about to leave, Raja Shekar called out again. "Dhiviya, where's the wedding gift bank card?"
Dhiviya hesitated. "It's with my mom."
"Oh, good. When you come to the office tomorrow, bring it to me. I need to use some of the cash for the company. During your dad's operation, I'll handle the payments."
There was not even a hint of hesitation or shame in his voice. It was as if the money automatically belonged to him. Dhiviya bit her lip, feeling powerless. She wanted to refuse, but Raja Shekar was already walking back inside, leaving her standing there with resentment boiling in her heart.
She looked at Athavan again, hoping for him to say something. Anything. But he remained silent, standing like a statue. His detachment made her heart sink.
As she got into the Bezza, her aunt Leela stopped her. "Dhiviya, I heard your in-laws gifted you a house as well. Why don't you let me rent it out? You'll have extra income, and you can stay with your parents, so they won't be lonely."
Dhiviya felt numb. Without thinking, she muttered, "Okay, Aunty," and got into the car, her heart heavy with regret.
As they drove away, she felt nothing but disappointment—not just in her family, but in Athavan as well. His silence, his indifference hurt more than anything else.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had made her choice. Now, she had to live with it.