Jogendra stepped into her father’s path, preventing him from leaving. “Tempers are high,” he said in a calm voice. “Perhaps we should all sleep on this and discuss it in a calmer light in the morning.”
“That is what you think?” her father demanded, seemingly shocked at Jogendra’s stance. “You stand to lose yourself a valuable wife, and yet you urge delay?”
“I urge everyone to sleep,” Jogendra said. “This matter requires thought and forbearance, not decisions made in the heat of passion.” He turned to Priya. “You understand, don’t you, my dear?”
Priya wasn’t certain what to say. Jogendra’s kindness caused more doubt within her than anger. If her father did force her hand and she was tied to the man for the rest of her life as his wife, she wouldn’t be unhappy. But simply not being unhappy was no longer good enough for her.
“I will go to bed,” she said, nodding to her father.
“Good,” he said, sighing as though that simple concession had taken everything out of him. “We will discuss this in the morning.”
Priya nodded and marched out of the room. She marched straight up to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, even though it was a childish gesture. Then she went to work removing her sari and all the adornments that came with it.
But instead of dressing in her nightgown, she donned a simple day dress. She had no intention of staying where she was and losing the battle of wills with her father. As soon as she was certain the men in the house had gone to sleep, she donned her coat and hat, picked up her reticule, and tip-toed out of the house. She had every intention of going to bed, alright, but whose bed she intended to go to was another matter entirely.