She sat down—literally sat down—because her legs had better sense than her brain.
If this was the village head, maybe this cave-life wouldn't be so bad after all.
After the walking disaster she met last time—the ATM-loading fraud with two brain cells and a smug smile—this man was officially the second most handsome person she'd seen in this world.
Well, maybe this place was worth staying in for a while.
After talking to the village head for a while, Divya learned that he was actually a scholar—assigned here, no less. It didn't take her long to piece it together. He must've done something that rubbed a powerful figure the wrong way. Or maybe they were just too scared of his intelligence, so they tucked him away in some forgotten corner of the land.
But when she stepped inside the so-called "cave" he lived in, she honestly wanted to slap her earlier self for judging too fast.
From the outside, it looked like something out of the Stone Age—rough, bland, dry. A place you wouldn't even want to stop at, let alone live in. But inside? It was stunning. No, it was a whole villa carved right out of stone. Two floors. Real, actual stairs. Polished stone tables, smoothed walls, and carved arches. Everything had a touch of elegance—like some underground noble suite with a cave aesthetic. The windows weren't random holes but calculated pieces of architectural genius. Sunlight poured into the space at just the right angle, as if nature itself was trying to light the place up in admiration.
She barely heard anything once she sat down, eyes still scanning every inch of the room like a tourist who'd wandered into a hidden resort.
The village head's voice snapped her back to the moment. "So… your husband. We're very sorry to hear about him."
Divya, still distracted, nodded vaguely. "Yeah, yeah… I'm also sad."
He watched her for a moment, then added, "You look quite young."
She gave a soft smile. "I got married young. Early blessings, you know?"
He hummed, thoughtful, and then asked, "So, where did you live before?"
"Hmm?" Divya turned to him and smiled again, easily. "I used to live at my father's house."
But the moment the words left her lips, she felt it—something shift in the air.
The village head frowned slightly. Then, his eyes moved past her to the three people who had dragged her all the way here. His voice changed—just a shade cooler, just a little sharper.
"But… didn't you just tell them you were orphaned?"
Divya blinked.
Uh-oh.
And in that moment, she knew—she messed up.
Divya's mind raced. Should I use one of those dramatic sob stories from a movie? Fake a tragedy? Say they died in a fire? No, no—maybe something more believable…
She was grasping at straws, searching for a lie, anything that could convince the village head. But as her eyes accidentally locked with Vyajinita's, something shifted.
She didn't know why—but her throat tightened. Her lips trembled. Something clawed its way up from her chest.
And before she could even stop herself, a tear slipped out.
Then, without warning, the words spilled from her lips—quiet at first, but clear.
"…No. I'm not an orphan."
The room went still.
"I used to have a family. A lovely set of parents. Siblings. A home filled with noise and warmth and everything I could ever ask for…" Her voice wavered. "But one day, everything just… changed."
She sucked in a breath, eyes staring blankly at the floor.
"I found myself in a place I didn't recognize. And the place that I should call home—didn't want me anymore. They kicked me out. Just like that."
A shaky breath left her lips as she looked up, finally meeting the village head's eyes.
"I don't have a place left in this world to call home. That's why I want to make one. Somewhere I don't have to beg to stay. Somewhere I don't have to constantly look over my shoulder—afraid I'll be used, or killed, or thrown away again."
Her voice cracked, her hands clenched, and before she realized, her eyes were burning.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
Why am I crying? she thought, shocked. Isn't this just a lie?
But deep down, she knew it wasn't. Not completely.
She hadn't spoken to anyone—not really—since she'd woken up in this strange place. She hadn't let herself speak. And now, even if the words twisted and turned on their way out, they still held truth.
Truth that had nowhere else to go.
The village head sighed and took out a handkerchief from the table, passing it to Divya. Seeing the handkerchief, Divya hesitated, then picked it up. She dabbed at her tear with the corner and, without a second thought, brought it to her nose.
"SNRRRRT!"
The sound echoed through the quiet gathering as she blew her nose—loud and unapologetic.
A collective wince spread across the villagers' faces, their expressions twisted in mild horror and agitation. But Divya didn't care. She wiped her nose roughly, no matter how anyone looked at her. Tears welled up again, and the sand from the wind had made her nose itch and clog painfully. It was one of those messy, human moments. You know, it happens. It happens all the time.
The village head cleared his throat and said gently, "I know that sometimes mentioning the past is quite painful. But I'm still happy you tried to tell me the truth. And with that, I'm ready to welcome you into our village. But—there are some conditions that you have to follow."
At the word "condition," Divya looked up, blinking. "Condition?"
He nodded seriously. "Yeah, condition."
Then, without warning, he raised his palm toward her.
She looked at the open hand, then at his face—he was watching her with an expectant expression. Confused, she glanced at the handkerchief in her hand, now damp and… unappealing. After a beat of hesitation, she placed the snot-filled cloth onto his open palm.
The village head froze for a split second—then recoiled in visible horror, snatching his hand away and bending over as if to shake off the moment. He scrubbed his hand hastily on his shirt and growled in a coarse tone, "Means, what are you doing?"
Divya looked at him with wide, innocent eyes and replied earnestly, "You asked for it, right?"