Page 22 of The Defiant Wife

I still instinctively. Not because I mind. Because it surprises me.

The social workers told me she wasn't particularly welcoming toward strangers. Actually, they described her as "extremely guarded."

Yet over the past week I've noticed she spends an alarming amount of time observing everyone around her.

Especially me.

As if she's trying to figure me out. Unfortunately for her, I haven't figured myself out either.

So good luck.

Rani continues coloring for another minute before finally speaking. "Did Diya didi scold you?"

I blink.

Of all the questions I expected, that wasn't one of them. My gaze drops toward her paper. She's drawing a yellow house. A very aggressive yellow house.

"Um . . . " I rub the back of my neck. How exactly am I supposed to answer that? She did not scold me. Not really. Though yesterday's conversation certainly wasn't pleasant.

After spending nearly an hour criticizing operational expenses, Diya had finally crossed her arms and informed me that she disliked me.

Directly. No hesitation. No dramatic buildup.

Just—I dislike you.

Simple. Blunt. Honest.

The strangest part wasn't the statement because I was aware of it. It was the fact that I still don't know why. I'm not particularly concerned about being liked. Most people don't like me. I've accepted that. But usually I know the reason. I'm too serious. Too blunt. Too reserved. Too intimidating.

Fine.

Fair.

Diya, however, seems determined to dislike me on principle. As though my existence alone irritates her. Which would almost be amusing if it wasn't so confusing.

"Maybe," I finally answer.

Rani hums thoughtfully. Like she's processing important information. Then she nods. "Don't worry too much."

I glance at her. "About what?"

"Being scolded." The seriousness in her voice nearly catches me off guard.

"Diya didi is very nice."

"Is she?" Rani looks scandalized. Actually scandalized. She looks . . . cute.

"Yes." She says it with the certainty of someone stating a universal truth.

The sky is blue.

The water is wet.

Diya is nice.

End of discussion.

Then her attention drifts back toward her drawing. For a few moments she remains silent.