Standing in front of the mirror, I take a deep breath, staring at my reflection. My eyes are puffy from last night's tears, but there's a fire behind them I don't recognize. I let out a shaky breath and adjust the waistband of the sweatpants I've just pulled on, pairing them with an oversized T-shirt I dug out from my suitcase. Most the packed clothes in my suitcases belong to Himanshi, the one she brought when she was the one getting married to Dhruv. I only packed a few of mine and this pair of sweats is one of them. Its a well worn dark olive colored coord with flared bottoms. My manglasutra hangs like a death sentence around my neck and hide it inside the collor of my tshirt.

"Okay, Jeea," I whisper to myself, planting my hands on the dresser. "You've made it through worse. You survived your father's constant scolding, Himanshi's torment, and being treated like a ghost in your own home. You'll survive this, too."