The new life

In response to http://jikku.blogspot.com/, I ask you write 12.

Mohan had told her not to wear Indian outfits when she took her afternoon walk to the supermarket near their town home. “There are very few immigrants in this area, so until we move just try to blend in, Charu. Wear jeans and none of those ornaments or bindhi” he had told her the first day he left for work leaving her alone in her new surroundings. A bold red bindhi on her forehead, kumkum on the parting of her hair, long braid dancing along with the pallu of her saree, bright yellow mangalsutra, dazzling diamond ear rings, she spelt newly wed even from a distance. She had fallen in love with her husband and loved to think of him during her afternoon walk, admiring the snow covered mountains she could see in the distance.
He was a tall white man who looked like a decent person but had sprung out of nowhere. She didn’t know when he started walking close to her. He offered to help her carry the milk cartons she was lugging back home. She refused politely but he had insisted. As they walked the two blocks to her home, the silence had been unnerving. She thought of running but she knew it would be pointless considering the snow mounds everywhere and the heavy jacket and saree she was in. “I have to go to the front office to get something. Thank you for helping” she lied to him, grabbed the bags and hurried to the front office in her housing complex. She had recited slokas all along her walk back and thanked god a million times for getting her home safely. She called Mohan from the pay phone and told him to hurry home that evening. She was dying of thirst and felt weak and hungry after she hung up the phone. “I am probably being overly paranoid” she told herself. “Wonder if I locked the yard door when I left” she thought to herself fearfully as she walked towards her home. She unlocked the front door, entered her home and bolted the door. She felt the loud silence and wished Mohan had been home already. He had asked her to wait for a couple of hours in the front office until he got home. "Don't go home if you are nervous. I told you not to look so conspicuous! I will try to get home early ok. Don't panic" he had told her sweetly as she melted all over again thinking of her lovely husband. The office was about to close for the holiday weekend and she had felt uncomfortable to linger around for no reason. She missed home. She had never ever walked into an empty home before this she realized. Her mother and patti were always home when she got back from college. Suddenly the excitement of the new life and the beauty of the snow morphed into a feeling of loneliness and isolation.
Exhausted she sat on the couch and put her head back and controlled her tears. She reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. “America’s most wanted” was playing at that moment. The talk show host showed a picture of the man as drawn by the sketch artist. It looked just like him. She screamed in utter fear and instinctively ran to the door by the staircase. Just that instant she saw the latch move to the right. She screamed even louder and headed for the kitchen to escape through the garage door. Mohan walked in to see her ashen face. “I cannot live here anymore” she sobbed into her shaking hands.