It was a Saturday morning. Nalini had woken up early, habitual to the dawn routines of her old life. She decided to make herself a cup of tea, not wanting to disturb the younger couple.
As she padded quietly down the hallway toward the kitchen, she heard the soft clinking of dishes. She pushed the kitchen door open, expecting to see Rohan in his usual casual morning wear.
Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks, a gasp caught in her throat.
There stood a figure at the sink, back turned to her. The figure was wearing a beautiful, albeit surprisingly thin and somewhat transparent, chiffon saree in a soft peach hue. The blouse was deeply cut, revealing a startlingly ample cleavage adorned with a heavy gold mangalsutra. Thick, long dark hair was neatly parted, a streak of bright red sindoor visible at the crown.
Nalini stood paralyzed. Was this a woman? A maid they hadn't mentioned? But the height, the lean frame...
The figure turned slightly to reach for a towel. Nalini saw the profile. It was Rohan.
His face was heavily made up. Thick kohl lined his eyes, making them appear larger, framed by dark mascara. A bright red bindi sat squarely on his forehead. As he moved, thick silver anklets chimed softly, complementing the jingle of glass bangles on his wrists. Large chandelier earrings brushed against his neck, and a septum ring gleamed under the kitchen lights.
Nalini felt the room spin. She gripped the doorframe, her knuckles white. "Rohan?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
He gasped, dropping the towel. For a fleeting second, raw panic flashed in his heavily lined eyes. Then, smoothly, he composed himself, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor. He brought his hands together in a nervous, trembling 'namaste'.
"Ma..." he breathed softly.
"What... what is this?" Nalini choked out, pointing a shaking finger at his attire. "What are you wearing? Why..."
"Ma, what are you doing up so early?" Priya's voice cut through the heavy silence. She walked into the kitchen, dressed in her silk pajamas, looking completely unfazed by the scene.
"Priya!" Nalini turned to her daughter, her eyes wide with shock and terror. "Look at him! What has happened to Rohan? Is he... is he sick?"
Priya sighed, walking over to the counter and pouring herself a glass of water. "He's not sick, Ma. This is just how he is at home."
"How he is?" Nalini repeated, her mind unable to process the words. "He is your husband! A man! Why is he dressed like a... like a bride?"
Priya turned to face her mother, her expression hardening. "He is my husband, yes. But in this house, Ma, he is not a man. I don't want a 'man' in my house."
Nalini stumbled back, leaning against the wall for support. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"
Priya took a sip of water, her gaze steady. "You know how Father was, Ma. You know how he ruled our home, how his word was law, how you slaved for him while he did nothing but demand respect he didn't earn."
Nalini flinched at the mention of her late husband.
"I promised myself I would never live like that," Priya continued, her voice cold and absolute. "When I married Rohan, I made the rules clear. This is my house. I make the rules. And my rule is that he serves me. He does not act like a man. He embraces his submissive nature completely."
Nalini looked from her daughter's stern face to Rohan, who was now quietly wiping the counter, the bangles on his wrists clinking rhythmically. The stiletto heels he wore clicked softly on the tiles.
"But... this?" Nalini gestured vaguely at his breasts and makeup.
"He is my homemaker," Priya stated simply. "And he dresses the part. It reminds him of his place. He does all the chores, he manages the household, and he does it looking exactly how I want him to look."
Nalini felt a wave of nausea. "This is unnatural, Priya. It is wrong. A husband—"
"A husband in this house follows his wife's orders," Priya interrupted sharply. "He has no say, Ma. None. His salary goes into my account. He works outside only because I allow him to. If I tell him to quit tomorrow, he will. Won't you, Rohan?"
Rohan paused his cleaning, turning his head slightly but keeping his eyes down. "Yes, Mistress," he murmured softly.
Nalini gasped again at the title.
"Ma," Priya said, her tone softening just a fraction, though her eyes remained resolute. "You are welcome to stay here forever. But you must understand. These are the rules of my house. You do not help him. You do not treat him as an equal. He is here to serve us."
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