86

— H O O R —

. . .

“Hoor, you said he won’t come to pick you up?” I hear Parul asking me from the other side of the wall.

I am in the kitchen, helping as much as I can while she busy folding the dried clothes to put them inside the cupboard. She is in the room and it is after so much effort that she left the kitchen and let me handle the work.

There is still some time. I thought I could help her with something.

“Why do you keep asking that?” I ask, sounding annoyed and she should know that because I am not very fond of repeating over and over again that my husband could not come with me.

For them, it is a very normal thing but I know and I have heard the reasons why he could not come with us.

Coming with me is a formality to him, right? Meeting my Dad would have exhausted him very badly, no?

He could not come because he was done with being with me. He is done with handling things as a married man and it wearies him too much. I can see that. And no wonder why he did not want to mar