Mumbai was nothing like Pankhuri had imagined.

Actually, that wasn't completely true.

She had imagined it from television.

Big buildings. Bright lights. Cars everywhere.

But television had never shown her how big everything would feel when she was actually sitting inside it.

Pankhuri had been awake for the last hour, her cheek resting against the car window.

She kept looking outside.

"Patiji..."

Armaan looked up from his phone.

"Hm?"

"Yahan itne saare ghar kyun hain?"

Kabir, driving in front, laughed.

"Ghar nahi, Bhabhi. Buildings."

Pankhuri looked confused.

"Par itni saari?"

"Welcome to Mumbai."

She turned toward Armaan.

"Sab aapke hain?"

Armaan looked at her for a second.

"No."

Pankhuri's eyebrows knitted together.

"Phir?"

"Different people own different apartments."

She looked outside again.

"Achha..."

Two minutes passed.

Then-

"Patiji?"

"Hm?"

"Hum kahan rahenge?"

"Home."

Pankhuri waited.

"Kaunsa home?"

Kabir started laughing again.

Armaan gave him a look through the mirror.

"Bas kar."

"I didn't say anything."

Pankhuri smiled.

"Ye aapka friend bahut hasta hai."

Kabir immediately said, "Aur aapka pati bahut kam."

Armaan sighed.

Pankhuri giggled.

The sound was small, but it filled the car for a moment.

---

The car finally entered a huge residential complex.

Pankhuri sat straighter.

She looked through the window at the tall towers rising into the sky.

"Patiji..."

"Hm?"

"Ye mall hai?"

Kabir nearly missed the turn because he was laughing.

Armaan looked at her.

"No. Residential building."

"Residential?"

"People live here."

Pankhuri looked up.

"Sab?"

"Yes."

"Kitne log?"

"I don't know."

She thought about it.

"Bahut honge."

Armaan nodded.

"Very."

The car stopped in front of one of the towers.

Pankhuri stepped out slowly.

She looked upward.

And upward.

And then a little more.

"Ye poora ghar hai?"

"No."

"Phir?"

"Building."

Pankhuri looked genuinely impressed.

"Kitne floors hain?"

"Forty-two."

Her mouth opened slightly.

"Forty-two?"

Kabir came around the car.

"Bhabhi, abhi toh aapne Mumbai ka asli surprise dekha hi nahi."

Pankhuri looked at him.

"Bhaiya, aur bhi hai?"

"Bahut kuch."

She smiled.

"Achha."

Armaan took her small suitcase from the boot.

Pankhuri immediately reached for it.

"Main kar lungi."

"I've got it."

"Par-"

"Pankhuri."

His tone wasn't harsh.

Just final.

She let go.

"Okay."

---

Inside the building, Pankhuri stopped in front of the lift.

She stared at the doors.

Then at Armaan.

"Patiji..."

"Hm?"

"Ye kya hai?"

Kabir turned away to hide his smile.

Armaan looked at her.

"Lift."

"Lift?"

"It takes you upstairs."

Her eyes widened.

"Jaadu se?"

Kabir couldn't hold it anymore.

He laughed.

"Bhabhi, lift hai. Jaadu nahi."

Pankhuri looked embarrassed.

"Humare gaon mein toh nahi hai."

"I know."

The doors opened.

Pankhuri stepped inside cautiously.

The doors closed.

She immediately looked at Armaan.

"Ye band kyun ho gaya?"

"To go upstairs."

"Par hawa?"

Kabir pressed the button.

"Don't worry. Saans lene ke liye enough hawa hai."

Pankhuri gave him a suspicious look.

"Sach?"

"Bilkul."

The lift began moving.

Pankhuri felt it.

Her eyes widened.

"Arre..."

She looked at the floor.

"Hum chal rahe hain?"

Kabir laughed.

Armaan's lips twitched.

"Yes."

Pankhuri looked at the numbers changing above the door.

"Kitna upar jayega?"

"Top floor."

She stared.

"Top?"

Armaan nodded.

Pankhuri looked at him.

"Patiji..."

"Hm?"

"Hum aasman ke paas rahenge?"

This time, Armaan actually smiled.

"A little."

Pankhuri smiled back.

She didn't know why, but the answer made her happy.

---

When the lift doors opened, Pankhuri stepped out.

There was only one door.

She looked at it.

"Yahan aur koi nahi rehta?"

"No."

She looked at Armaan.

"Sirf hum?"

"Only us."

Pankhuri blinked.

She looked at the long hallway.

"Poora floor aapka hai?"

"Yes."

Her eyes widened.

"Poora?"

"Yes."

She turned toward Kabir.

"Bhaiya, ye building bhi unki hai?"

Kabir shook his head, laughing.

"No, Bhabhi. Sirf ye penthouse."

"Penthouse?"

She repeated the word carefully.

"Pent... house?"

Armaan unlocked the door.

"Come inside."

Pankhuri followed.

Then stopped.

She forgot to breathe for a second.

The place was enormous.

A huge living room.

Tall glass windows.

A city spread beneath them.

Soft lights.

Modern furniture.

A kitchen that looked more complicated than anything she'd ever seen.

Pankhuri slowly stepped inside.

"Ye..."

She turned around.

"Ghar hai?"

Kabir grinned.

"Technically."

Pankhuri looked at Armaan.

"Penthouse kya hota hai?"

Armaan placed the luggage down.

"A penthouse is a large home located on the top floor of a building."

She looked toward the windows.

"Matlab..."

She pointed upward.

"Sabse upar wala ghar?"

"Basically."

Pankhuri's face lit up.

"Isliye itna bada hai?"

"Yes."

She walked toward the glass.

Mumbai stretched endlessly below her.

Cars looked tiny.

People looked like dots.

She pressed her palm against the glass.

"Wow..."

Armaan watched her.

She looked genuinely fascinated.

Not impressed by the expensive furniture.

Not by the huge television.

Not by the expensive decor.

She was staring at the sky.

---

"Bhabhi."

Pankhuri turned.

Kabir was holding his phone.

"Selfie?"

She frowned.

"Selfie kya hota hai?"

Kabir stared at her.

Then looked at Armaan.

"You're married to her."

Armaan ignored him.

Kabir smiled and turned the phone toward Pankhuri.

"Photo."

Pankhuri immediately moved back.

"Phone mein photo?"

"Haan."

"Kaise?"

"Camera."

She stared at the screen.

"Isme camera hai?"

Kabir laughed.

"Of course."

Pankhuri looked at Armaan.

"Patiji, phone mein camera bhi hota hai?"

"Yes."

"Phone mein itna sab hota hai?"

"Yes."

She looked genuinely overwhelmed.

Kabir put the phone away.

"Don't worry. Aaj ka lesson yahin khatam."

Pankhuri smiled.

"Thank you, Bhaiya."

Kabir's expression softened.

"Anytime."

He looked at Armaan.

"I should go."

Armaan nodded.

"You have work?"

"Unfortunately."

Kabir picked up his keys.

Then looked at Pankhuri.

"Bhabhi, don't worry, okay? Mumbai ajeeb hai, but you'll get used to it."

Pankhuri nodded.

"Ji."

"And if this man irritates you..."

He pointed toward Armaan.

"...call me."

Armaan looked at him.

"Kabir."

"What?"

"She doesn't have your number."

"Oh."

Kabir looked at Pankhuri.

"Then I'll give it to you."

Armaan shook his head.

"You'll teach her everything tomorrow."

Kabir smiled.

"Deal."

Before leaving, he turned to Pankhuri.

"Take care."

"Bye, Bhaiya."

The door closed.

The penthouse suddenly became very quiet.

Pankhuri looked around.

She was alone with Armaan.

Her husband.

@alisianwrites

---

Armaan walked toward the living room.

"Come."

Pankhuri followed.

"I'll show you the house."

He pointed toward the kitchen.

"This is the kitchen."

Pankhuri looked at it.

She recognised some things.

Others looked completely foreign.

"Ye kya hai?"

"Dishwasher."

"Ye?"

"Microwave."

"Ye?"

"Coffee machine."

She looked at him.

"Isme coffee banti hai?"

"Yes."

"Chai?"

"No."

She nodded seriously.

"Phir bekaar."

Armaan looked at her.

Pankhuri smiled.

He almost smiled again.

Almost.

He continued.

"This is the living room. The dining area is there. Your room is on the left."

"My room?"

"Yes."

She looked surprised.

"Alag?"

"Yes."

"Par..."

She hesitated.

Armaan noticed.

"You're uncomfortable?"

"Nahi."

She quickly shook her head.

"Bas... ghar mein toh sab ek hi jagah rehte hain."

"This isn't your village."

Pankhuri looked down.

"I know."

His tone softened slightly.

"You need your own space."

She nodded.

"Okay."

---

Her room was beautiful.

Large bed.

Soft curtains.

A wardrobe bigger than the one she'd shared with her grandparents.

A small study table.

And a television.

Pankhuri walked slowly around.

She touched the bedsheet.

"So soft..."

Armaan stood at the door.

"You can use whatever you need."

She nodded.

Then looked at the television.

"Isme film chalti hai?"

"Yes."

"Without CD?"

"Yes."

She stared.

"How?"

"Internet."

"Internet kya hota hai?"

Armaan paused.

He realised this was going to take longer than expected.

"Come."

He took her back to the living room.

On the table was a spare smartphone.

He picked it up.

"This is for you."

Pankhuri stared at it.

"Phone?"

"Yes."

She didn't touch it.

"Par ye bahut mehenga hoga."

"It's a phone, Pankhuri."

"Phir bhi."

"You need one."

She looked at him.

"Kyun?"

"Because I won't always be home."

That made sense.

He unlocked it.

"First, this is the lock screen."

He showed her.

"Swipe like this."

Pankhuri copied him.

The screen opened.

Her eyes widened.

"Arre."

She touched it carefully.

"Ye toh ungli se chal raha hai."

"It's a touchscreen."

"Touch..."

She tried again.

The screen changed.

She looked delighted.

"Ye meri baat maanta hai!"

Armaan actually laughed softly.

"Something like that."

---

He opened the contacts.

"This is where you save numbers."

He entered his own number.

"Mine."

Pankhuri watched carefully.

Then he added Kabir.

"Kabir's."

Then another number.

"Emergency."

He explained each one.

"How to call."

"How to answer."

"How to end a call."

"How to send a message."

"What WhatsApp is."

Pankhuri listened with complete concentration.

"WhatsApp mein kya karte hain?"

"Messages. Calls. Photos."

"Photo bhi?"

"Yes."

She looked impressed.

"Ye phone bahut kaam ka hai."

Armaan nodded.

"That's the point."

He opened the message screen.

"If you need something, text me."

Pankhuri looked up.

"Aapko?"

"Yes."

"Par aap busy honge."

"I will still check."

She was quiet.

"Ya phir..."

Armaan continued,

"If you need anything from the house, food, medicine, anything-you call."

Pankhuri nodded.

"Okay."

"And if you feel uncomfortable or something happens, call me immediately."

She looked at him.

"Ji."

"Don't hesitate."

"Ji, Patiji."

The word came so naturally now that Armaan had stopped correcting her.

He handed her the phone.

"Keep it with you."

Pankhuri held it with both hands.

It was probably the most expensive thing she'd ever owned.

She looked at the screen.

Then at him.

"Main sambhal ke rakhungi."

"I know."

---

Armaan was about to leave when Pankhuri stopped him.

"Patiji?"

"Hm?"

She hesitated.

"Main aapse..."

He waited.

"Baat kar sakti hoon?"

"Of course."

"Phone pe?"

"Yes."

She looked relieved.

"Achha."

Then she smiled.

"Kyuki ghar bahut bada hai."

Armaan understood.

She was used to having people around.

Her grandparents.

Neighbours.

Children.

Village sounds.

Here, everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

"You can call me."

Pankhuri nodded.

"Chahe koi zaroori baat na ho?"

Armaan looked at her.

"Yes."

She smiled.

"Okay."

He left her room.

Pankhuri sat on the edge of the bed.

She looked at the phone.

Then at the huge unfamiliar room.

Then toward the window.

Mumbai was still awake.

The city she'd only known through television was now outside her window.

And somewhere in the same penthouse was the man she had married.

She looked down at the phone again.

A strange little smile appeared.

She had never owned a smartphone before.

Now she had one.

And for the first time in her life, she had someone she could call whenever she wanted.

She didn't know yet how often she would actu

ally call him.

But she knew she would.

Because Armaan had told her she could.

And Pankhuri trusted him.

Maybe more than she should.

Maybe exactly as much as she needed to.

She carefully placed the phone beside her pillow.

Then whispered to herself,

"Goodnight, Mumbai."

And for the first time-

she fell asleep beneath a ceiling that wasn't her own,

in a home she'd never imagined,

with a life she had never planned.

And somewhere down the hallway, Armaan stood looking at his own phone.

A new contact sat there.

Pankhuri.

He stared at the name for a moment.

Then locked the screen.

Neither of them knew what this strange new arrangement would become.

For now, they were simply two people learning how to share the same home.

And perhaps that was enough.

To be continued...

🌸 AUTHOR'S NOTE

She came to Mumbai with one suitcase, a mother's saree, and a phone she barely knew how to use.

Let's see what this city teaches her.

- ALISIAN INK 🖋️