She made the tea and took it out to him. Raju took one sip and spat it out.
"What kind of tea is this?" he asked furiously.
"There was no milk, so I thought.."
"Don't you know I don't like tea without milk?"
This wasn't true, he had drunk tea plenty of times without milk, but that had been before.
"I did ask you," she said defensively.
"Just now. I asked from the window."
"Don't lie! You just want to make my life living Hell!" Raju said. He threw the cup on the ground, where it broke into three pieces and lay like a fallen bird, bleeding the brown water into the earth. He gathered up his newspaper and strode furiously away.
Sarala stood there, blinking furiously in an effort to not cry in front of the neighbours, who would all be behind their twitching curtains watching this daily episode of the neighbourhood drama. After a while, she bent over and picked up the broken cup. It was white with blue flowers and a golden border, part of a set that had been gifted to her by her parents for her wedding. The tea set had survived the first eight years of her marriage unscathed, but not the last two. This had been the last cup.
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