The Wife

The shimmering silvery waters are seducing her, promising her of joy, a lack of which has today driven her to where she is standing now.

In the middle of nowhere, in the vastness of a shore playing hide and seek with the sea, an orange horizon keeping guard on God knows what.

She sits on a lone rock, clutching her Louis Vuitton. She remembers when he had presented her with the bag. The day after he had beaten her black and blue. She chuckles. Gifts making up for madness. Dollars intending to act as bandaids.

The day she killed him, she felt nothing. Nothing even after thrusting the knife on his chest 24 times. Atleast that is the count the lawyer yelled at the courtroom.

A heartless murder of an eminent citizen of the society, the lawyer had said. She knew she would be jailed for life.

But her lawyer had played a trump card. Saying she was insane- it had been self -defense and she had lost her sanity while protecting herself. And she was acquitted. Maybe he was right, maybe she had become a bit insane when she had plunged that knife on her sleeping husband. Maybe she had not.

But now she is free. Though she no longer knows herself. The ocean beckons, giving her a way out, the waves whispering of a better world on the other side.

She walks towards the ocean, letting the water play with her feet as she goes deeper and deeper, the waves greedily trying to swallow her.

Then suddenly she stops. She turns and pushes the waves away as she makes her way back to the shore. Picking her LV, she walks away, to gather the pieces of her life and stick them back together.

And to make something of it, for herself, for others. She is free- she will make sure no other woman pays as heavy a price as this for freedom.

She smiles. A new day has begun.

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