Hemalatha

Chapter 4: The Hidden Wardrobe

The weekend arrived, and Mallika was eager for a big shopping trip. "Nisha is here, and we’re in the silk capital of the world! Hemanth, you’re coming with us," she declared. I felt a knot in my stomach. Walking into a ladies' clothing store with my wife and the woman who knew my secret was like walking a tightrope.
We entered a high-end boutique, the walls lined with shimmering sarees, elegant kurtas, and modern western wear. As Mallika wandered toward the heavy silks, Nisha caught my eye and gave a subtle wink.
"Mallika, you look at those sarees," Nisha called out. "I want to find some trendy pieces for myself, and I need Hemanth’s honest 'male perspective' to tell me what looks best!"
Mallika laughed. "Go ahead! He actually has surprisingly good taste in colors."
As soon as we were a few aisles away, Nisha’s demeanor changed. She became a woman on a mission. She started pulling items off the racks—not for her own style, but with Hemalatha in mind.
"This deep emerald green would look stunning with your skin tone," she whispered, holding a chiffon saree against herself while looking at me in the mirror. To any shopkeeper watching, she was just checking the color for herself. To me, she was building a new identity.
She picked out a pair of delicate heels, a set of bangles, and a sophisticated evening gown. "I’m going to buy these," she whispered. "If Mallika asks, I’ll say I’m refreshing my wardrobe for a wedding in Cochin. But tonight, they go into your secret suitcase."
It was a strange, thrilling game. I stood there, pretending to be the bored husband waiting for his wife, while secretly helping Nisha choose the very clothes I would eventually wear. Every time Mallika walked over to show us a saree she liked, Nisha would seamlessly transition back to talking about her own "purchases."
"What do you think of this one, Hemanth?" Mallika asked, holding up a bright red silk.
"It's beautiful, dear," I said, my heart racing. Just inches away, in Nisha's shopping basket, was a lace blouse that I knew would fit Hemalatha perfectly.
By the time we left the mall, Nisha had three large shopping bags. Mallika was happy, thinking her friend had treated herself to a wonderful Mysore haul. I was terrified but exhilarated. My secret wardrobe was growing, curated by a professional, and hidden in plain sight.
As we walked to the car, Nisha leaned in close to me while Mallika was busy talking to the driver. "Tonight," she whispered, "when Mallika falls asleep, we have work to do. I brought my professional makeup kit."