Riya pushed the trolly further, looking around mindlessly, hoping to catch something she might need other than the items in his list.
"Ah, cocoa powder!" She whispered to herself and picked the jar.
Her seven-year-old's birthday was tomorrow and she immediately decided to make him some chocolates at home.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where the Baby section is?"
Riya turns around to see a handsome man with dark tousled hair and a chiseled jaw. His stark, wheatish skintone and appearance muddled with her thought process but she composed herself.
The man must be in his early thirties and was wearing formal clothes. The exhausted look on his face was evident, loose tie, and a bag that told her he was shopping after office hours since it was already seven in the evening.
He cleared his throat, "Actually, I saw baby essentials in your cart. I was wondering where I could find some baby powder?"
She noticed a ring in his finger and figured he was a father but something about him seemed odd. She couldn't put her finger on it but the way he watched her unblinkingly and moved from foot to foot.
"Uh, yes. There. You can take right from this aisle." She pointed to the secluded corner of the shop where shelves were ladened with diapers and wipes from numerous brands, shining in the pastel shades.
His shoulder leaned towards her a little and he just stared at her forehead for a moment, as if trying to process some complicated mathematical formula.
He then simply nods, thanking her, disappears into the crowd.

What a strange man...

Riya suddenly thought about Sidhant, her own husband and cold, liquidy ache rolls in her gut as she sighs, reaching towards the long line in front of the counter.
She wondered if Sidhant had ever done anything remotely close to spending energy towards his family.
In her eight years of marriage, she seldom felt him acting like a husband. He often played the role of the father when it seemed fit to him and by fit, she meant whenever he took breaks from his projects which rarely happened.
"My son is a passionate man. He did his duties as a husband, he gave you a child. Now it's your job to make sure the child is raised well. He is a hard-working man and hardly ever spend his time even with me. Don't expect much." Her mother-in-law had told her once after they had their first fight as a couple.
The woman never made sense to her. She was a MA by profession but her regressive mindset was unsettling till the day she died.

Education doesn't guarantee sense and morals, after all.

Riya stood lost in her thoughts and the commotion around her bustled as it does in the movies. Announcements, advertisements, useless yelling, and children crying.
Soon after, an old lady, huffing and heaving with some fruits and vegetables in her cart, stopped behind her. She reminded her of the mother-in-law. Even after death, the woman was haunting her peace.
Her wrinkly skin sagged over her skull as if loose clothing put on a mannequin. The lines in her forehead were deep and clear like a gash from the knife and her small petite build gave her a frail appearance.
Riya offers the old lady her spot and stands behind. The woman would have to wait for no reason since the contents of her own cart were on the verge of falling out and it would take her too long to get done.
"God bless you, beta, (child)" She smiles.
Riya glows back and the woman wipes her forehead, "Isn't it too cold?"
Riya frowns, the June heat was unbearable on her skin. The air conditioners failed as more crowd began to fill in. It was Friday evening, the busiest of the week.
"There should be more people like you. It seems as if the youth has forgotten how to respect the elderly."

Riya could only shrug.

"So beautiful and young. You remind me of my granddaughter. She is nearly your age. What is yours?"

"Twenty-five."

"Good. Good." The old lady bobbed her head and suddenly her eyes stopped on Riya's neckline and then lifted up to her hairline.
"Are you married? I see a mangalsutra( a necklace worn by Indian brides) yet no sindoor..." (vermillion, the mark of a married woman)

"Uh, I washed my hair and forgot to put some in."

"Forgot? Didn't your husband remind you? What about your mother-in-law?"

Riya nervously laughed, "I don't live with in-laws. My husband doesn't live in India."

"Oh. So, you live alone?"

"With my son."

"And the father? How often does he visit you?"

Riya remained silent. Her questions began to bother her.
Was she a detective or something?
"Whenever he can." She answered.

Sidhant rarely paid visits. These past months had already been so tough on her and she didn't want to ruin her mood thinking about it. He could go to hell for all she cared.

The lady hummed, "So what does he do?"

"He is a video game developer."

"Huh? Game? Very modern outlook...Where?" She asked dubiously.

Might as well ask for my bank details and kundali too...

"Singapore."

"Ah, my niece lives there. Games huh? What kind? The mobile...