By Neel Anil Panicker

Born into wealth, married into greater wealth, add to that concoction a loving husband, a charming daughter and an army of servants and palatial houses in almost every major city and what have you: A life that’s the stuff dreams are made of.  Fifty year old Gayatri Muthuswamy was living this dream, or at least that’s what the world thought of her.

The reality was way different.

A week had passed since Anjali’s brutal killing and she had not once stepped put of her room. Nor had anyone entered it.

Except, and that too only once, her husband Prakasham.

She shuddered as she recalled the conversation she had had with Prakasham.

He had come closer to midnight, a day after his return from Benaras, and sat beside her bed. “Listen carefully. There will be inquiries. There will be a lot digging. I don’t want any dirty linen to be washed in public. Let bygones be bygones. Remember, if you open your mouth, I will skin you alive. As for the body parts, I will ensure they won’t even be found unlike in the case of your daughter’s”.

‘But she treated you like…why, why did you…?’

The words hung midway.

Prakasham’s left hand made contact with her face. She reeled over to the other end of the bed and half fell onto to the Italian marble floor, her legs protruding out, half dangling in the air.

She barely heard the sound of his footsteps receding out of the room before she lost consciousness. #NEELANILPANICKER #A-ZAPRILCHALLENGE #FICTION #HISFORHEARTBROKEN

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