CHAPTER 13

Hi please read and vote for chapter 13!  So I can post 14 soon enough by India's time.

By the time Aaravi stepped into their flat, the irritation was burning in her heart, she couldn't wait to yell at Akshay.

She kicked off her shoes near the door, not bothering to align them the way he always absentmindedly did, and walked straight into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge with unnecessary aggression before staring at its contents without really seeing anything, her mind replaying the classroom scene in sharp flashes.

"Amazing," she muttered to herself, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long sip before placing it back a little harder than required. "Bilkul amazing. IAS officer, banna hai aur class mein so rahi thi. Wah, Aaravi. Kya trajectory hai."

She shut the fridge and leaned back against the counter, folding her arms tightly as if physically holding herself together, her jaw clenching as another thought pushed forward.

Akshay.

5 a.m. alarms, military-level study schedules, questions fired at her like she was some kind of walking answer sheet instead of a person who occasionally needed sleep.... Constant writing despite her hands hurting.

"Bas aaj aa jao ghar," she muttered under her breath, pushing herself off the counter as she paced toward the living room. "Aaj toh full kalesh hoga. Aaj toh yeh chappal khayega"

" Dekthe hai... " Mumbai's most feared Cop" mere saamne kaise sir jhukega aaj"

She grabbed a cushion from the couch and dropped onto it, immediately picking up her phone and unlocking it with quick, impatient taps, her thumb hovering for a second before opening his chat.

There were already three unread messages.

Akshay:
Reached station.

Akshay:
Case nikla hai, thoda stretch hoga.

Akshay:
Might not be home for two days. Going to see family in between duty.

Then she blinked slowly, her expression flattening in a way that was far more dangerous than immediate anger.

"Two... days?" she repeated under her breath, the words coming out deceptively calm as she sat up straighter.

Aaravi:
Oh nice 👍

Aaravi:
Wow. Perfect. Exactly what I needed today.

She paused.

Read it.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Deleted.

"Too dramatic," she muttered.

Another attempt.

Aaravi:
Good. Stay there. Don't come back.

She stared at that one a little longer.

Then snorted.

"Thoda zyada ho gaya."

Delete.

She dropped her phone onto her lap with a frustrated exhale, running a hand through her hair as she leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling now.

"This is unbelievable," she said aloud to absolutely no one. "Main poora speech prepare karke aayi hoon, aur banda hi missing hai."

Akshay:
You reached home?

"Oh now you care," she muttered, immediately sitting up as her fingers started moving with renewed energy.

Aaravi:
Haan pahunch gayi.

Aaravi:
Waise congratulations.

Akshay:
Kis baat ke liye?

"Oh, I will tell you kis baat ke liye," she muttered, already typing.

Aaravi:
For successfully turning me into someone who sleeps in class 👍

Akshay:
What?

She let out a short, humorless laugh.

"WHAT?" she repeated, incredulous. "Bas what??"

Her fingers flew across the screen.

Aaravi:
Haan WHAT. I fell asleep. In class. Professor ne bahar nikal diya. Full public humiliation. Very nice experience. Highly recommend 👍

This time, his reply came quicker.

Akshay:
You got thrown out?

She rolled her eyes.

Aaravi:
Nahi, mujhe standing ovation mila tha. Obviously thrown out.

"Ab serious mode on karega," she muttered.

Right on cue—

Akshay:
Aaravi, how did you fall asleep in the middle of a lecture?

"HOW did I—?" she repeated, her voice rising.

Her reply came sharp.

She muttered angrily.

Oh I don't know Akshay, maybe because SOMEONE decided 5 baje uthna is a personality trait??

Aaravi:
You literally don't let me breathe. Har waqt padhai padhai padhai.

Akshay:
I'm pushing you because your exam is close.

Her laugh came out sharp.

"Of course," she muttered.

Aaravi:
" yess thank you for that actually okay bye"

" Chodo, ghar aayega.. Toh acche se daant sunega" she giggled to herself.

Akshay:
Alright then, we'll talk when I get back.

Then her eyes widened slightly in disbelief.

"That's it?" she said aloud. "WE'LL TALK??"

She let out a disbelieving laugh, dropping back onto the couch as she typed furiously.

Aaravi:
No, we will NOT "talk when you get back." Main abhi ladna chahti hoon.

She hit send, then deleted immediately.

She stared at the chat for a few seconds longer before tossing her phone onto the couch beside her, leaning back again and covering her face with both hands as she groaned.

"Unbelievable," she muttered into her palms. "Mujhe ladna hai aur banda hi unavailable hai."

She dropped her hands, staring at the ceiling again.

Her gaze shifted toward the study table, where her books were still neatly stacked from the morning, his structured plan sitting right on top like a quiet reminder.

Her lips pressed together.

"Great," she sighed. "Ab guilt bhi feel hoga."

She turned her head away from it dramatically.

"Main nahi padh rahi," she declared to the empty room.

A beat.

"...thodi der baad."

Aaravi lay there on the couch staring at the ceiling with irritation still flickering faintly before her dimaag began to work.

"...Ghar pe koi nahi hai," she said slowly, the realization settling in with a completely different weight now.

No early morning alarms.

No "Aaravi uth jao" at ungodly hours.

No structured timetable staring at her like a threat.

No one watching whether she was studying or not.

A slow grin spread across her face.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

. "Main free hoon."

She swung her legs off the couch in one fluid movement, standing up as if her body had suddenly remembered what it felt like to move without exhaustion dragging it down, and she stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders back with a quiet sigh that came from somewhere deeper than just physical relief.

"Do din," she murmured, pacing toward the TV with growing excitement. "Pure do din."

Her phone buzzed again behind her.

She ignored it at first.

Because priorities.

She grabbed the remote, switching the TV on as the screen flickered to life, the sudden burst of sound filling the quiet apartment in a way that felt almost celebratory, and she quickly connected her phone.

She clicked her tongue, half-annoyed, half-curious, grabbing it as she dropped onto the couch again, unlocking it lazily.

A notification flashed.

₹10,000 credited to your account.

"What—"

Her eyes immediately moved to his chat.

Akshay:
Transfer kar diya hai. Next two days ke liye. Jo chahiye le lena.

And then a slow, disbelieving smile crept onto her face.

"Arey wah," she muttered, impressed despite herself. "Sirf strict IPS officer nahi... sponsor bhi hai."

Aaravi:
10k??

She added another message before he could reply.

Aaravi:
Kya main luxury vacation pe ja rahi hoon ya ghar pe rehne wali hoon?

Akshay:
Food, travel, anything you need. Don't overthink it.

Her grin widened.

"Don't overthink it?" she repeated softly, already standing up again, a new kind of excitement taking over.

"Oh I'm not overthinking anything," she murmured, tossing her phone onto the couch as she turned back toward the TV. "Main fully utilize karne wali hoon."

The opening beats of "Kaisa Jaadu Dala Re" filled the room, the rhythm instantly shifting the energy of the space, and Aaravi didn't even hesitate as she stepped into the middle of the living room, her movements starting casually at first, her body easing into the music as her fingers traced the air in front of her, her shoulders rolling with the beat as the tension she had been carrying all day began to melt away.

She laughed under her breath, the sound light, unfiltered, as she spun once, her hair swaying behind her, the freedom of the empty house settling into her bones with every step, every small movement growing more confident as she let herself enjoy it instead of holding back.

"Kaise jaadu daala re..." she sang along, slightly off-key but completely unbothered, her reflection catching her eye in the glass of the window as she paused for a second, tilting her head, studying herself.

"Ek minute," she murmured, already turning and walking toward the bedroom with a certain intention in her steps.

The music continued playing in the background as she opened her wardrobe, her fingers brushing past neatly folded clothes before pausing on a black chiffon saree tucked carefully to one side, the fabric light beneath her touch as she pulled it out, holding it up for a second as if confirming her own decision.

"No one's home," she said quietly, almost to herself.

By the time she stepped back into the living room, the saree draped around her. the soft fabric moved with her instead , he pallu resting loosely over her shoulder as she adjusted it once, her fingers smoothing it absentmindedly before she glanced toward the TV again.

The first notes of "Namak Ishq Ka" filled the room.

She took a step forward, her movements no longer playful in the same way, but more deliberate now, her fingers brushing lightly along her own arm as she moved, her body following the rhythm in a way that felt.

She was giving thumkas, spinning happily.

She turned slowly, the fabric of the saree following a second later, the soft whisper of chiffon marking the movement as her hand lifted, tracing a line through the air before resting briefly against her own collarbone, her breathing steady.

An hour later the apartment was filled with the sound of girly giggles and bollywood music because Meera slipped in.

Aaravi stood in the middle of the living room, wrapped in that same black chiffon saree but worn differently now, the pleats sharper, the pallu draped lower along her arm as though she had leaned fully into the performance she had started earlier, her hair slightly messier, cheeks flushed, and the second the music shifted into the opening strains of "Bin tere sanam..." she turned toward Meera with a slow, dramatic pause, one eyebrow lifting as if she had been expecting an audience all along.

Meera blinked once, then looked down at herself, oversized shirt, sleeves rolled up messily, hair tucked into a cap, the whole "guy disguise".

"Tum..." Aaravi started, her voice dropping into something dangerously amused as her gaze traveled from Meera's cap to her shoes, "...yeh kya hai?"

Meera straightened instantly, clearing her throat and slipping one hand into her pocket with forced confidence. "Hero entry," she said, nodding once like that explained everything.

For a second Aaravi just stared at her, and then without warning she reached out, grabbed Meera by the wrist, and pulled her fully into the room, the music swelling just at the right moment as she spun her once, quick and effortless, before letting go only to step back and look at her again.

"Perfect," Aaravi murmured, almost to herself, before her lips curved into something mischievous. "Aaj tum hero ho."

"Main toh pehle se hoon," Meera shot back immediately, though the smirk on her face softened into something more amused than defensive as Aaravi stepped closer again, this time slower, more deliberate.

"Bin tere sanam mar mitenge ham..." btoh girls were dancing and acting out the song dramatically.

Aaravi mouthed the words more clearly, her expression shifting again, softer, almost mock-dramatic as she pressed the back of her hand lightly to her forehead like a 90s heroine, earning an immediate snort from Meera.

"Overacting band karo," Meera said, though she was smiling now, her grip on Aaravi's hand tightening slightly as she pulled her into another slow turn.

"Yeh style hai," Aaravi shot back, though she didn't resist, letting herself be spun before stepping forward again, their movements gradually finding a rhythm that didn't need conscious effort anymore.

They moved across the room like that, not perfectly choreographed, not rehearsed, but easy, natural, their steps adjusting instinctively to each other, sometimes in sync, sometimes slightly off before correcting again, the laughter slipping in between the softer moments, the music carrying them through it all.

At one point Aaravi leaned her head briefly against Meera's shoulder, just for a second, before pulling away with a grin as if it hadn't happened, and Meera didn't comment, just shook her head faintly and nudged her forward again.

"Focus, partner," she said lightly.

"Shut up," Aaravi replied immediately, though her voice held no bite.

For a moment neither of them moved, the silence that followed softer now, filled with the aftertaste of laughter and music, before Aaravi exhaled and dropped onto the couch dramatically, pulling the pallu back into place.

"Bas," she declared, one hand thrown over her eyes. "Aaj ka second performance bhi complete."

Meera snorted, tugging off her cap and running a hand through her hair as she glanced around the room, then back at Aaravi, a grin spreading slowly across her face.

"Tum akeli do din rehne wali ho?" she asked, already laughing at the thought.

Aaravi peeked at her from under her arm, her own grin returning instantly.

"Haan," she said, stretching lazily. "Aur main bilkul bhi padhai nahi karne wali."

Meera dropped onto the couch beside her, shaking her head like she had expected nothing less.

"Akshay jiju behosh hojayeenge. ."

Aaravi rolled her eyes, turning her head to look at her with mock offense.

"Woh do din ke liye gaya hai," she said confidently. "Mujhe koi control nahi kar raha.".

....................................

Meanwhile at the Malhotra Mansion,

Akshay finally stepped in after duty, the faint creak of the door was enough for every head at the table to lift almost in sync.

He paused for a fraction of a second at the entrance, fingers loosening around the strap of his watch as he took in the scene.

His father already seated at the head of the table with that same straight-backed posture that made even sitting look like authority, his mother beside him, gentle as she served dal into bowls with practiced ease, Veer sat in his chair, glancing nervously at Shriya. Shriya sitting neatly beside him with her usual quiet attentiveness, and Anita bua leaning slightly back with her eyes already narrowed in interest the moment she spotted Akshay.

"Finally," Vikram said, his voice even

"Yaad aa gaya ghar ka rasta?"

Akshay exhaled quietly through his nose, stepping inside and pulling the chair out for himself ,

"Duty thi papa, ek murder case chal raha hai," he replied simply, reaching for the water glass and taking a slow sip before meeting his father's gaze properly. "Late ho gaya."

"Roz hi late ho raha hai," Anita bua cut in smoothly, her tone light but her eyes sharp as ever.

"Ya phir ghar aana avoid kar rahe ho?"

"Bua, direct attack mat karo," Veer said,, before his eyes flicked back to Akshay with exaggerated suspicion. "Waise ek baat bolun?"

Akshay didn't even look at him this time, already reaching for the roti as if he knew exactly what was coming.

"Bol," he said flatly.

Veer leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, lowering his voice just enough to make it seem conspiratorial while still making sure everyone heard him.

"Kahin chakkar toh nahi chal raha aapka.. Matlab itne din ghar nahi.. Bas beech beech mein aate ho?" he asked, his grin widening teasingly immediately after.

Sushma let out the softest, most disbelieving laugh, shaking her head as she placed the serving spoon down.

"Veer," she said gently, though there was amusement in her voice, "Akshay ka chakkar?" she repeated, glancing briefly at her elder son before looking back at Veer with a faint smile. "Woh bhi kisi ladki ke saath? Please."

Shriya lowered her gaze quickly, pressing her lips together to hide a smile, while Veer looked almost offended at the lack of support.

"Aap logon ko apne bete pe zara bhi doubt nahi hai?" he said dramatically. "Main toh bas possibilities explore kar raha hoon."

"Tumhari possibilities hamesha galat hi hoti hain," Anita bua added smoothly, though her attention hadn't left Akshay for even a second, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of her plate as if she was waiting for something more than his usual calm responses.

"Crime branch mein kaam karta hoon," he said finally, glancing briefly at Veer before looking back down at his plate. "Chakkar chalane ka time nahi hota."

"Time banaya jaata hai," Veer shot back instantly, unable to resist, earning a quiet cough from Shriya that was very obviously hiding laughter.

"Bas," Vikram said, the single word enough to settle the table again, though his gaze remained fixed on Akshay, sharper now, more deliberate. "Mazak alag baat hai, lekin baat sahi hai."

"Tum ghar pe kam dikh rahe ho," Vikram continued, his tone controlled but firm. "Duty important hai, lekin family bhi utni hi important hoti hai."

Akshay nodded once, not arguing, not explaining, because explaining wasn't an option.

"Samajh raha hoon," he said evenly.

Sushma glanced at him then, her expression softer, as if she wanted to say something more but chose not to, instead quietly placing another roti on his plate.

"Khana thoda aur lo," she murmured, her voice gentle in contrast to the tension that had briefly settled over the table.

Veer, of course, wasn't done.

"Main phir bhi bol raha hoon," he said, leaning back again with a smirk, "agar aapki girlfriend exist karti hain na kahin, toh please humein bhi bata dena. Main welcome speech ready rakhoon."

This time Akshay did look at him, a slow, unimpressed glance that lasted exactly two seconds.

"Tu apni speech apne paas rakh," he said dryly, though there was the faintest hint of amusement beneath it.

Vikram glanced toward the entrance, his expression shifting back into that composed, formal calm he reserved for guests.

"Sharma log aate honge," he said, setting his glass down with quiet finality.

" What? Woh kyu aate honge?" Akshay asked confused.

" Thoda sabar karo beta" Smita said gently.

As if on cue, the door opened and it smelled of expensive perfume, the  Sharma family stepped in. Neelam Sharma with her poised smile and perfectly draped silk, Suresh Sharma following with an air of practiced warmth, Madhav Sharma offering an easy, genuine grin, and right behind them, Jeevika Sharma with that same sharp, assessing gaze she held.

"Arre, aaiye, aaiye," Smita said softly, rising to greet them, her smile warm as she gestured them toward the seating area, while Vikram stepped forward with a firm handshake that carried equal parts respect and calculation.

Akshay remained where he was for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly the moment his eyes landed on Jeevika, who, for her part, smiled as though she had been expecting that exact reaction.

He rolled his eyes in irritation, ugh.. Abh yeh bhi aagayi! He thought to himself.

"Akshay," Mukesh said, turning toward him with a pleasant nod. "Kaise ho beta?"

"Ji, theek hoon," he replied evenly, stepping forward now, every movement controlled, every expression carefully neutral.

Madhav clapped him lightly on the shoulder, his tone easy. "Bhai, tum toh milte hi nahi aajkal."

Akshay gave him a faint, smile, the only one in the room that reached even remotely close to genuine.

"Duty thi ," he said simply.

"Duty," Jeevika echoed softly from the side, her voice smooth.

It was Neelam who began it, her tone light, almost conversational, as she set her glass down.

"Waise Vikram ji," she said, smiling pleasantly, "ab toh Akshay ki shaadi ke baare mein bhi sochna chahiye."

Akshay's hand stilled briefly against his plate before continuing again, slower now.

Vikram didn't hesitate.

"Haan," he said, nodding once as he glanced toward Akshay, then back at them. "Soch toh rahe hain.. Isiliye to aapko bulaliya aaj.

" Aur Akshay kabhi kisi ladki ke saath baat tak ya iska koi past bhi nahi hai.. Toh that's why we thought this would be perfect"."

"Achha hai," Mukesh added, leaning back slightly. "Waise bhi rishta toh ghar ka hi hai. Aur business ke liye bhi acha hoga."

Veer's head snapped up instantly, his eyes darting between them with open curiosity, while Shriya looked down again nervously.

"Matlab?" Veer asked, unable to stop himself.

Neelam's smile widened just a fraction as she turned her gaze toward Jeevika, who sat there perfectly composed.

"Matlab yeh," she said smoothly, "ki agar sab theek raha, toh hum soch rahe the... Akshay aur Jeevika. Doston ka rishta. Kyu na parivaroon ka banjaye."

Akshay's chair scraped lightly against the floor as he leaned back, but enough to break the stillness, his gaze shifting slowly from Neelam to Vikram, then finally to Jeevika, who met his eyes without flinching, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

"Interesting," Veer muttered under his breath.

Akshay exhaled quietly, one hand running briefly along his jaw as he looked away, choosing his next words carefully.

"Abhi... uss baare mein socha nahi hai," he said finally.

"Ab soch lo," Anita bua added lightly, though her eyes were watching him closely again, picking apart every reaction.

"Jeevika bhi toh..." Anita began gently, though she didn't finish the sentence, her voice trailing off as she glanced at her son.

"Main clear bol deta hoon," Akshay cut in, not raising his voice, "Mujhe abhi shaadi ke liye time nahi hai."

"Time banaana padta hai," Vikram replied immediately, the authority in his tone unmistakable.

" You're 25 Akshay! Phir family kab banaoge khud ki. Bache and all?"

Akshay didn't respond to that, his gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting again, but this time he didn't look at anyone in particular.

"Excuse me, I have to go. " he said instead, pushing his chair back and standing up before anyone could continue, his movements carrying obvious irritation as he stepped away from the table.

" Areyy.. Koi usse rokh lo..." Vikram called out.

" It's okay.. Mai jaati hoon uncle" Jeevika said with a smile.

The hallway outside was quieter, dimmer, the noise from the dining room fading into a distant hum, and for a moment he just stood there, exhaling slowly, his hand pressing briefly against the back of his neck as he tried to steady the frustration building under his skin.

"Running away already?"

Her voice came from behind him.

He didn't turn immediately.

"Jeevika," he said.

She stepped closer anyway, the soft click of her heels echoing faintly against the floor as she stopped just a step behind him, close enough for him to feel the presence without looking.

"Akshu," she said lightly.

He turned instantly, his expression hardening in a way that hadn't been visible at the table.

"Don't," he said sharply. "Mujhe woh mat bulao."

She blinked once, clearly not expecting that level of reaction, but recovered quickly, her lips curving again.

"Relax," she said, stepping even closer now, her voice lowering. "Hum log bachpan se—"

"Main bachpan mein nahi hoon ab," he cut her off, his jaw tightening.

Instead, she reached out, her hand lifting toward his collar as if to adjust it, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.

"Tum change ho gaye ho," she murmured, studying his face with unsettling focus.

Akshay caught her wrist mid-motion, firm enough to stop her completely.

"Distance please... I'm requesting you," he said, his voice low now,.

For a fraction of a second something flickered across her expression, but then she leaned in closer to his face.

It was quick, deliberate, her other hand rising to his shoulder as she tried to close the distance between them, her intent unmistakable.

Akshay reacted instantly, his grip tightened as he shoved her back, harder than necessary, the movement abrupt enough that she stumbled a step, her balance catching only at the last second.

"Have you lost your mind?" he snapped, the anger finally cracking.

"Samajh nahi aata kya? Are you mad and deaf? What the hell did I just say. DISTANCE. D.. I.. S.. T..A..N..C..E. ITNA BHI SAMAAJH AATA TUJHE! Basic english? Woh toh Mishti ki beti Pihu ko bhi samajh aata hai!"

Jeevika stared at him, stunned for the first time since she had walked in, her pride clearly taking the hit before anything else.

"Tum—"

"Stay away from me," he cut her off again, his voice cold now, final.

He didn't wait for a response.

Turning sharply, he walked straight past her, his steps quick, as he headed back toward the living room, grabbing his keys from the side table without even glancing at anyone.

"Akshay?" Smita's voice called out, confused, concerned.

"Mujhe kaam hai, and this conversation is over. I tried to be respectful." he said shortly, not explaining.

"Abhi?" Vikram's tone carried immediate disapproval.

But Akshay was already at the door.

"Later," he threw over his shoulder, the word clipped, and then he was gone, the door shutting behind him with more force than he usually allowed himself.

Outside, the night air hit him cold and sharp, but it did nothing to calm the anger still simmering under his skin as he walked toward his jeep, his grip tightening around the keys as one thought pushed through everything else, clear and urgent.

He needed to go home, to his apartment, to his wife.

The apartment door swung open with more force than Akshay usually allowed himself, the residual anger from the evening still sitting sharp under his skin, his grip tight around the keys as he stepped inside and then stopped so abruptly that the door almost hit him on the way back.

The living room was glowing in shifting colors, cheap disco lights spinning lazily from somewhere near the TV unit, casting moving streaks of red and blue across the walls, the floor, the furniture, and right in the center of it all, Aaravi stood in that same black chiffon saree, the fabric clinging and flowing in all the right ways as she moved, completely unaware of the storm that had just walked in.

Meera, still dressed in that ridiculous "man" outfithad one hand at Aaravi's waist, the other loosely holding her hand, both of them moving slowly to the hypnotetic dance of " Husn Hai Suhaana...", the kind of exaggerated, closeness that would have been hilarious if the timing wasn't so catastrophically wrong.

"Thoda aur close aa, Meeri ," she murmured, completely serious in her performance.

"Madam, main already close hoon," Meera shot back in a low voice, trying not to laugh as she attempted to maintain the dramatic expression, pulling Aaravi a fraction closer just to commit to the bit.

That's when Aaravi spun, the chiffon flaring slightly as she turned and her gaze landed directly on the doorway.

And on Akshay.

The smile on her face vanished immediately."...oh," she said softly.

Meera followed her line of sight, and the second she saw him, her entire posture straightened so fast it looked painful.

"Shit," she whispered and she comedically saluted him.

Akshay didn't say anything at first.

He just stood there, eyes moving once across the room—, he lights, the music, Aaravi in that saree, Meera's hand still at her waist, and whatever restraint he had left from the evening snapped quietly into something much colder.

"Seriously?" he said finally, his voice low, flat, and far sharper than usual.

The music kept playing.

Aaravi blinked, then glanced at Meera, then back at him, clearly trying to recalibrate.

"Aao aaj aane wale the?" she asked, like that was the main issue here.

"Band karo yeh sab," he snapped, stepping fully inside now, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that made both of them flinch slightly.

Meera's hand dropped from Aaravi's waist immediately, like she had just remembered boundaries existed.

"Arre woh—" Aaravi started, taking a small step forward, but he cut her off before she could even form the sentence.

"Yeh kya hai?" he demanded, gesturing sharply toward the room, the lights, the entire setup. "Yeh tamasha kyun laga rakha hai ghar pe?"

"Tamasha?" she repeated, her tone rising a notch. "Main apne ghar mein dance kar rahi hoon—"

"Apna ghar?" he cut in again, a short, humorless laugh escaping him. "Achha."

"Aapka problem kya hai?" Aaravi shot back now, her posture straightening, chin lifting slightly as she crossed her arms loosely. "Aapne hi toh bola tha do din—"

"Enough.. I don't want to deal with this..," he snapped, the word sharp enough to slice through whatever she was about to say next.

Meera took one careful step backward.

"Okay," she said quietly, raising both hands slightly like she was surrendering. "Main chali jaati hoon."

"Tum dono... apna miya biwi ka masla aapas mein..." she muttered awkwardly, already backing toward the door as she reached for her shoes, her voice trailing off as she slipped them on with unnecessary speed.

"Meera—"

"Call me later," Meera said quickly, already halfway out the door, giving her a look that was half apology, half good luck, before slipping out and shutting it behind her, leaving the apartment suddenly, uncomfortably quiet.

Then he turned away abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, like even standing there was too much.

"I'm not doing this right now," he muttered, more to himself than to her, already moving toward the bedroom.

"Aap kya—" Aaravi started, the anger in her voice catching up now, but he didn't stop.

He pushed the bedroom door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut behind him with a force that rattled the frame slightly before the lock clicked into place.

Aaravi stood there, staring at the closed door, her chest rising and falling a little faster now, the irritation fully settled in her expression as she let out a disbelieving laugh under her breath.

"Wow," she muttered, turning in a slow circle as if expecting someone to explain what had just happened. "Kya entry thi."

"Akshay," she called out, her voice sharper now, walking toward it with quick steps. "Darwaza kholo."

No response.

She stopped just outside, crossing her arms again, her irritation building with every second of silence.

"Seriously?" she said, louder this time. "Aap aise baat karoge mujhse?"

Inside, Akshay stood with his back to the door, his hands braced against the edge of the dresser, his jaw tight, the anger from the night mixing with what he had just walked into until it became something far more complicated than he wanted to deal with.

Outside, Aaravi stared at the door like she could burn a hole through it.

She turned slowly toward the bedroom, pushing the door open without knocking.

Inside, Akshay stood near the dresser, his back to her, one hand braced against the edge of it while the other dragged through his hair in a rough motion, his shoulders tight, the crisp line of his posture breaking in a way she had never quite seen before, and even out of uniform, there was something about him that still carried the weight of the day.

"Aap itna drama kyu kar rahe ho?" Aaravi's voice cut through the silence, sharp and immediate, her arms folding across her chest as she stepped further in, the soft rustle of her saree the only gentle thing in the room. "Gate pe entry lete hi chillana, door slam karna... kya problem hai exactly?"

"Please," he said,

"abhi baat mat kariye."

Aaravi let out a short, incredulous laugh, taking another step forward. "Oh wow. Abhi baat mat kariye? Main yahan clown ban ke dance kar rahi thi bahar, aap aake hero entry maar ke pura mood kharab kar dete ho, aur ab bol rahe ho baat mat kariye?"

"Maine kaha na," he repeated, sharper this time, "abhi nahi."

"Main nahi sun rahi," she shot back instantly, her chin lifting in defiance as she closed the distance between them. "Aap mujhe ignore nahi kar sakte jab aap clearly gussa mujhpe nikal rahe ho."

"Mujhpe?" he let out a humorless breath, shaking his head once as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Aapko lagta hai main aap pe gussa hoon?"

"Obviously!" she threw her hands up. "Aur kya? Main hi toh dikhi aapko ghar aate hi..main aur meri bechari saree—"

"Bas," he snapped, the word cutting clean through her sentence, his patience finally slipping, "har cheez mazaak nahi hoti, Aaravi."

Then Aaravi stepped closer again, slower this time, her voice dropping but losing none of its edge. "Toh phir bataiye na kya serious baat hai. Ya phir main guess karun? Office mein kisi ne daant diya? Ya phir aaj kisi ne aapko 'sir' bolna bhool gaya?"

"Aapko sab kuch joke lagta hai na?" he said quietly,

"Har situation mein aapko hasna hai, ulta jawab dena hai, sab kuch halka bana dena hai—"

"Because aap har cheez ko unnecessarily heavy bana dete ho!" she cut in immediately, frustration spilling over now. "Aapko lagta hai duniya ka saara burden aapke shoulders pe hai, aur baaki sab log bas... kya, background characters hain?"

"Aapko idea bhi hai aaj kya hua?" he asked, his voice low but intense, stepping toward her now, closing the gap until there was barely any space left between them. "Aapko pata hai main kis cheez se deal karke aa raha hoon?"

"Toh bataiye na!" she shot back, refusing to step back even an inch. " Khud nahi baata rahe hai... Aur Ulta mujhe hi suna rahe ho!""Main aapki wife hoon, stranger nahi!"

"Wife..." he repeated under his breath, "Haan, wife. Convenient hai na yeh word? Jab argue karna ho, jab haq jatana ho// tab yaad aata hai."

Her brows furrowed, hurt flashing across her face. "Excuse me?"

"Aapko pata hai aaj ghar pe kya ho raha tha?" he continued, his voice rising despite himself. "Mere saamne meri shaadi ki baat ho rahi thi meri. Kisi aur ke saath. Aur main wahan khada tha, ek word nahi bol sakta tha."

Aaravi's expression shifted, confusion replacing anger for a brief second. "Kya?"

"Jeevika," he said flatly. "Un logon ne decide kar liya hai ki meri shaadi usse hogi. Dates discuss ho rahi thi. Families involved. Sab kuch."

The room felt smaller.

"And I had to stand there," he went on, his voice tightening, "and listen to it like it was normal, like I wasn't already—"

"Then you should have said something," she said, quieter now but still firm. "Aap chup kyu rahe?"

He laughed once, short and bitter. "Kya bolta? 'Surprise, main already shaadi kar chuka hoon'? Aur phir? Aap ready ho uske consequences ke liye?"

"Main ready hoon!" she snapped instantly, hurt flaring back up. "Main kab se ready hoon! Aap hi ho jo har cheez chhupa ke rakhna chahte ho—"

"Because mujhe sochna padta hai!" he cut in sharply. "Sirf apne liye nahi—career ke liye, family ke liye, aapke liye.. Aake dreams aapke career..—"

"Mere liye decide karna band kijiye!" she pushed back, her voice rising to match his now, her hands pushing against his chest in frustration.

"Main koi responsibility nahi hoon jo aap manage kar rahe ho, main aapki partner hoon!"

"Aap samajh nahi rahi ho," he said, quieter again.

"Toh samjhaiye!" she shot back immediately. "Ya phir yeh bhi main guess karun?"

"Shaadi koi game nahi hoti, Aaravi."

"Accha," she said softly, but there was nothing light about it now. "Toh jo humne kiya... woh kya tha?"

"Main aapki wife hoon, Akshay," she said, her voice steady despite everything. "Sirf paper pe nahi, sirf court mein nahi.. real life mein. Aur real life mein husband-wife problems se bhaagte nahi, deal karte hain."

He looked at her, something unreadable passing through his expression.

"Ya phir," she added, her voice sharpening again, "aapko sirf convenient version chahiye tha shaadi ka?"

"Aapko lagta hai yeh convenient hai?" he said, stepping forward again, his voice rising, frustration spilling over completely now. "Do din ghar pe nahi hoon toh aap yahan party kar rahi ho, dance, music, drama—aur main wahan—"

"Toh main kya karti?" she fired back instantly. "Baith ke roti rehti? Aapne bola tha do din nahi aoge—main apni life jee rahi thi!"

"Yeh life hai?" he gestured sharply toward the door, toward the lingering echo of music outside. "Yeh seriousness hai UPSC ki?"

"Don't you dare bring UPSC into this right now," she warned, her voice dropping dangerously.

"Main launga," he shot back. "Kyuki aapko samajhna padega ki yeh sab—" he gestured again, "—distractions hain."

Aaravi let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "Wow. Bas yahi reh gaya tha. Main distraction hoon, meri life distraction hai, meri choices distraction hain—great."

"Maine yeh nahi kaha," he said, but the damage was done.

"Par imply toh wahi kar rahe ho!" she snapped, her voice breaking slightly now despite her trying to hold it steady. "Aur suno, main padhungi, clear karungi exam, sab karungi—but iska matlab yeh nahi hai ki main jeena band kar doon."

He ran a hand through his hair again, frustration and exhaustion crashing into each other.

"Aap samajh kyu nahi rahi ho..." he muttered.

"Aap sun kyu nahi rahe ho..." she shot back immediately.

Akshay exhaled sharply, already agitated.

"Honestly," he said, running a hand through his hair in irritation, "kabhi kabhi lagta hai maine galti kar di."

Aaravi blinked once, as if she hadn't heard him properly.

"...kya?" her voice came out soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shaadi," he said,"itni jaldi... itna impulsive decision... main ready bhi nahi tha."

Aaravi's fingers curled slightly at her sides, her breathing hitching before she could stop it, her gaze still locked onto him like she was waiting. waiting for him to take it back, to soften it, to fix it.

The first tear slipped out before she could hold it in.

"Aap... aapko lagta hai yeh galti thi?" her voice broke completely now, her hands lifting helplessly as if she didn't know where to place them, what to hold onto. "Main galti hoon?"

"Aaravi—" he started.

"Answer me!" she choked out, her voice rising through sobs she couldn't control anymore. "Main galti hoon kya aapki life mein?"

" TOH KYU AAYE AAP.. SHAADI KA PROPOSAL LEKE!!! WAISE KI WAISE CHOD DETE NA MUJHE!"

"No," he said immediately, stepping forward, panic flashing across his face, "maine woh matlab se nahi kaha—"

"Phir kis matlab se kaha?" she cried, tears spilling freely now, her shoulders shaking as everything hit her at once. "Aapko regret hai na... aapko lagta hai aap phas gaye ho... bas bol dijiye!"

"Aisa nahi hai!" his voice cracked now, , the control he held onto for so long slipping in real time as he reached for her hands, but she pulled back instantly, the rejection hitting him like a physical blow.

"Don't," she whispered, shaking her head, her voice trembling. "Please... abhi mat touch kariye mujhe."

Akshay froze for a second, his hands still mid-air, his chest rising and falling too fast, and then something in him broke completely.

"Aaravi..." his voice dropped, rough, almost unrecognizable, and before she could react, he moved forward again—but this time slower, more careful—and then, to her complete shock, he dropped to his knees in front of her.

He reached for her hands again, but this time gently, hesitantly, like he was asking without words, and when she didn't pull away immediately, his fingers closed around hers, holding on like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking completely now, his head bowing slightly as his grip on her hands tightened. "Mujhse galat bol diya... I didn't mean that... I swear I didn't mean that."

Tears slipped down his face before he could stop them.

"I don't regret you," he continued, shaking his head, his words rushing out unevenly now. "Kabhi nahi... main khud se gussa hoon... situation se gussa hoon... mere family se..par aapse nahi..."

Akshay took a shaky breath, his thumb brushing unconsciously over her knuckles as if he needed to reassure himself she was still there.

"Mujhe samajh nahi aata main kaise handle karun yeh sab," he admitted, his voice low, fragile in a way that felt almost foreign. "Bachpan se... har cheez control mein rakhni padti thi. Eldest son... expectations... pressure... har waqt perfect rehna hai..."

"Ghar mein kabhi kisi ne poocha bhi nahi ki main kya chahta hoon."

Aaravi's brows pulled together slightly, her breathing still uneven as she listened.

"And jab..." he hesitated, his grip tightening unconsciously, his gaze dropping away from her face, "jab mere saath galat hua tha... tab bhi..."

"Kaunsa galat?" she asked softly, instinctively, her anger momentarily forgotten.

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as if even saying it out loud required more strength than he had.

"Chhota tha main," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Ek relative... uncle..." the word came out strained, like it burned on the way out. "Unhone... touch kiya tha... galat tareeke se..."

Aaravi's fingers tightened around his instinctively.

"Maine bataya tha ghar pe," he continued, his voice shaking now, tears falling freely as he finally let it out. "Par... unhone bola main hi overreact kar raha hoon... ki main hi galat samajh raha hoon... phir dheere dheere baat hi band ho gayi..."

"Ulta mujhe hi ajeeb treat karne lage... jaise main problem hoon."

Aaravi's chest tightened painfully, her free hand lifting slightly before she could think, hovering near his face before settling gently against his shoulder.

"I learned to shut up," he said, his voice breaking again. "Sab kuch andar rakhna... react nahi karna... bas handle karna."

" My father... aur meri bua bhi..they even were going to send me to boarding school because padhai achi nahi ho rahi thi school mein.. Lekin mummy aur nimmi maasi ne unse baat ki..."

"And aaj..." he looked up at her finally, his eyes red, desperate, "jab wahan sab meri life decide kar rahe the... mujhe phir wohi feeling aa rahi thi... ki main control mein nahi hoon... ki main phir se... phas gaya hoon..."

" Maine bohot baar bola hai.. Papa ko mujhe nahi karni shaadi Jeevika se.. I have problems with her... that I dont want to go into right now"

His grip on her hands tightened again.

"Main aap pe nahi nikala yeh sab," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Par nikal gaya... aur maine... maine aapko hurt kar diya..."

Aaravi's tears started falling again, but this time differently.

He looked at her, hesitant now, vulnerable in a way that stripped away every layer he usually hid behind.

"Can I... hug you?" he asked quietly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

" Please...?" he pleaded again.

Then slowly very slowly—she stepped forward.

He barely had time to react before she pulled her hands free from his and wrapped her arms around him, and the moment the warmth between them settled, something in both of them gave way completely. It felt like the first drop of  rain touching the sun-warmed earth, like a quiet river finally meeting the parted sea. For a moment the world exhaled for him, and everything had found its place. 

Akshay's arms came around her immediately, tight, desperate, like he needed to hold onto her to keep from falling apart, his face burying into her shoulder as his body shook with quiet, uncontrolled sobs. 

Aaravi held him just as tightly, one hand pressing against the back of his head, the other gripping his shirt, her own tears soaking into his shoulder as she cried with him, for him, for everything that had just come undone between them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again against her shoulder after a while, his voice hoarse. "Please gussa mat ho mujhse... main aapko lose nahi kar sakta..."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still resting on his face, her thumbs brushing away the wetness on his cheeks without thinking.

"Aap bohot stupid ho," she said softly, her voice still thick with tears, but steadier now.

"Par..." she continued, her gaze locking with his, something firm settling beneath the softness, "main kahin nahi ja rahi."

"Lekin," she added, her tone shifting slightly, "aapko yeh samajhna padega ki main aapki enemy nahi hoon. Aapko sab kuch akela handle karne ki zarurat nahi hai."

He nodded immediately, almost desperately. "I know... I know... main try karunga... bas... thoda time dijiye..."

She exhaled slowly, her forehead dropping lightly against his.

"Time milega," she murmured. "Par agli baar... aise words mat bolna."

"Never," he said instantly, his voice firm despite everything. "Kabhi nahi."

" Nahi toh sach mein.. Aapke hi banduk se.. Aap ke hi upar goli chaladungi. DGP ki beti hoon main" she said wiping her tears away in sniffling laughter.

" theek hai... malkin bai.. Jo aap kahe" he chuckled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice still rough, his thumb brushing under her eye to wipe away the dampness gathering there, the gesture careful...

"Sach mein... bohot galat bol diya maine... aap deserve nahi karti yeh sab."

Aaravi sniffed, her nose slightly pink, her lashes still heavy with tears as she glared up at him weakly.

"Haan obviously main deserve nahi karti," she muttered, her voice shaky but stubborn. "Main itni bhi buri nahi hoon jitna aapne bana diya abhi."

"I know," he said immediately, almost too quickly, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his expression tightening again at the sight of her crying. "Aap bilkul buri nahi ho... main hi... main handle nahi kar paaya."

He pulled her into another hug before she could respond, tighter this time, his chin resting against her head as if he needed to anchor himself, and she let him, her fingers clutching lightly at the back of his shirt as her breathing slowly steadied against him.

Then, after a pause, he exhaled slowly and leaned back just enough to look at her again, something hesitant flickering in his expression.

"Ek aur baat hai..." he said carefully.

Aaravi narrowed her eyes instantly, suspicion returning like second nature. "Aur kya bacha hai? Aaj full episode khatam karke hi soenge kya?"

"Jeevika..." he started.

Her expression dropped flat. "Haan woh toh main naam sun ke hi irritate ho jaati hoon, bolo."

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly debating how to say it, before finally just saying it.

"She tried to kiss me."

"WHAT?" Aaravi's voice shot up so fast it nearly echoed, her hands immediately flying up in disbelief as she stepped back from him. "KYA matlab tried to kiss you?!"

He winced slightly. "Hallway mein... sab log bahar the... usne—"

"USNE KYA?!" she demanded, eyes wide, fully awake now, all traces of earlier tears temporarily replaced by pure, unfiltered outrage.

"Bas... suddenly close aayi aur—" he gestured vaguely, clearly uncomfortable even recalling it, "maine push kar diya."

Aaravi stared at him for exactly one second.

"Uss chudail ki aisi ki taisi!" she snapped, pacing once in agitation, her hands moving wildly as if she needed to physically throw the anger somewhere. "Himmat kaise hui uski?!"

Akshay blinked, watching her, a faint disbelief mixing with something dangerously close to amusement as her rage kept building.

"Main usko dekh lungi," she continued, pointing aggressively at absolutely nothing. "Seriously, main usko—"

"Teechya jhipreya odhun sota teecha haatat dilya nahi naa tar maaza naav Aaravi nahi!"

( If I don't pull her hair and hand it back to her... then my name isn't Aaravi!"

He let out a laugh, it slipped out before he could stop it, breaking through the tension like a crack of light.

Aaravi froze mid-rant, turning to glare at him. "Aap has rahe ho?"

He shook his head immediately, though the smile hadn't fully left his face. "Nahi... bas... aapka gussa..."

"Cute lag raha hai?" she accused.

"Haan thodu sa. ," he said softly.

She huffed, crossing her arms, though the anger had already started to melt at the edges.

"Aapne usko ache se dhakka diya na?" she asked suspiciously.

"Haan," he said, a hint of firmness returning. "Kaafi clearly."

"Good," she muttered, nodding once like she approved. "Aur agar next time try kiya na—"

"Next time hoga hi nahi," he cut in quietly, his gaze steady on hers.

Then, without warning, Akshay stepped forward again, his hand slipping around her waist and knees as the other moved under her knees, lifting her cleanly off the ground.

"Aap—!" Aaravi yelped, instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. "Kya kar rahe ho?!"

"Bas," he murmured, already walking toward the bed, his hold steady, familiar,

. "Aaj ke liye enough drama ho gaya."

He set her down gently on the bed, but before he could pull away, her fingers caught onto his shirt, stopping him.

Then she shifted closer, curling into him without overthinking it, her head resting against his chest, her arm slipping around his waist like it belonged there.

" Is this okay?" she asked him gently.

Akshay stilled for a moment, the contact settling into something deeper than just comfort, before his arm moved around her instinctively, pulling her closer, his chin resting lightly against her hair.

" Yeah it is" he murmured softly.

Her breathing slowed first, soft and even against him, and he followed soon after, his hand began brushing over her arm in a slow, grounding rhythm until even that stilled.

Soon that morning, soft, pale light stretched across the bedroom, settling over tangled sheets and two people who had fallen asleep far too close and far too exhausted to notice just how tightly they had held onto each other.

Aaravi stirred first, her brows knitting faintly as she shifted under the blanket, her body trying to stretch only to realize she couldn't because something was holding her in place.

Her movement was immediately met with resistance as an arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back into a firm, unyielding hold, and before her half-asleep brain could process it, a warm breath brushed against the side of her neck, followed by the unmistakable feeling of Akshay burying his face there like it was the most natural place in the world to be.

"Don't go..." he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, barely coherent, his grip tightening just slightly as if he was afraid she might actually disappear if he loosened it.

Aaravi froze.

Her eyes snapped open, her entire body going still as awareness hit her all at once, the position, the proximity, the way his arm was wrapped securely around her, his face literally tucked into the crook of her neck like—

Like—

"Akshay..." she whispered, testing, unsure.

Instead, he shifted closer, his leg sliding slightly over hers, pulling her in further until there was practically no space left between them, his face pressing deeper into her neck as he let out a soft, content exhale, his hand moving absently against her waist like he was trying to settle her more comfortably against him.

"Aap... yahin rahiye..." he mumbled again, barely awake, his voice softer now, almost childlike in its lack of awareness.

Aaravi's brain short-circuited.

This was the same man who woke her up like a military commander at 5 AM.

This was the same man who lectured her about discipline.

This—

She swallowed hard, her hands hovering awkwardly in front of her like she didn't know where to put them, her face heating up as she tried very carefully to move even an inch away.

The moment she shifted, his grip tightened again, immediate and instinctive, pulling her right back, his arm locking more firmly around her waist as his face pressed closer.

"Aapko kaha na..." he murmured, voice muffled against her skin now, "idhar aaiye..."

"ARE YOU MAD KYA KAR RAHE HAI!?!" she blurted out in a whisper-yell, completely flustered.

Akshay went still for a second, then slowly, very slowly, his eyes opened.

His brain caught up and he became aware of the position. They both stayed like that for exactly two seconds.

And then—

Akshay jerked back like he had been electrocuted.

"—WHAT—" he half-shouted, scrambling backward so fast he nearly tangled himself in the bedsheet, his eyes wide, completely horrified as he put distance between them. "MAIN—"

Aaravi shot up just as fast, clutching the blanket to herself dramatically like she needed protection from him specifically. "AAP KYA KAR RAHE THE?!"

"I WAS SLEEPING!" he defended instantly, pointing at absolutely nothing, his hair a mess, his expression somewhere between panic and disbelief. "Mujhe kya pata main kya kar raha tha!"

"AAP MERE GALA MEIN MUH DAAL KE SO RAHE THE!" she accused, her voice climbing higher with each word.

He blinked. "MAIN—NAHI—"

"AUR 'DON'T GO' BOL RAHE THE!" she continued, not letting him recover. "MAIN KAHAN JA RAHI THI SUBAH SUBAH?!"

"I don't know!" he snapped back, equally flustered now. "Main so raha tha!"

"AAP NE MUJHE KHINCH LIYA!" she pointed at him like she had evidence.

"AAP HIL RAHI THI!" he shot back immediately.

"MAIN SAANS LE RAHI THI!" she exclaimed.

"TOH NORMALLY LE LO!" he retorted without thinking.

"OH MY GOD," she threw her hands up. "Ab main saans bhi aapki hi permission se loon?!"

"Main yeh nahi keh raha!" he ran a hand through his already messy hair, pacing once beside the bed like he needed to physically process what had just happened. "Aap bas—"

"Aap bas kya?!" she demanded, jumping off the bed now, fully energized. "Aap cling kar rahe the!"

"I WAS NOT CLINGING!" he said immediately.

"AAP MERI NECK MEIN GHUSE HUE THE!" she shot back.

"...woh accident tha," he muttered.

"Accidentally?" she repeated slowly.

"Haan," he said, avoiding her eyes now, clearing his throat. "Sleep mein control nahi hota."

Aaravi narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it.

But before she could continue the argument—

Akshay noticed immediately. "Kya?"

She tilted her head slightly, crossing her arms. "Ek minute..."

He frowned. "Kya ek minute?"

"Kal aapne bola na..." she stepped closer, eyes narrowing further, "Jeevika ne aapko kiss karne ki try ki..."

He stiffened instantly.

"Usse pehle..." she continued, circling him like she was interrogating a suspect now, "aap dono ka kya scene tha?"

"Aaravi—"

"Answer the question!" she snapped immediately, pointing at him. "Ex thi kya woh?"

"Nahi, aap kaha se kaha.. Baat ghuma rahi ho." he said exasperated. .

"Sure?" she shot back. "Bilkul sure? Thoda bhi nahi? Situationship? Almost? One-sided? Kuch toh hoga!"

"Nahi!" he repeated, more exasperated now.

"Phir itni himmat kaise hui uski?!" she demanded.

"Woh bachpan ki friend hai," he said, trying to stay calm. "Families close hain.. And I said nah I have a past with her.. NOT ROMANTIC I PROMISE... Quite the opposite actually—"

"Acha toh iss liye aapko 'Akshu' bolti hai?" Aaravi cut in sharply.

Aaravi's eyes widened. "OH MY GOD SHE CALLS YOU AKSHU?!"

"Aaravi—" he started.

"Answer the question!" she called after him as he immediately turned and started walking toward the bathroom like escape was his only option. "Aapko pasand tha kya uska 'Akshu'??"

"Bilkul nahi!" he threw over his shoulder, not even turning back.

"Jhoot!" she accused, following him instantly. "Aapne kabhi mana nahi kiya hoga!"

"Mana kiya hai!" he shot back, stopping near the door. "Aur mujhe woh naam pasand nahi hai!"

"Toh phir itna casually kaise bolti hai?!" she pressed, relentless now, standing right in front of him.

"Kyuki woh sun'ti nahi hai!" he said, clearly losing patience.

"Convenient," she muttered under her breath.

He blinked. "Kya?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, looking away for a second before immediately snapping back, "Aur kal jab usne try kiya—kitna close aayi thi?"

"AARAVI—"

"Detail mein bataiye," she insisted. "Kitna close?"

"Close matlab—normal close!" he said, gesturing vaguely.

"Normal close kya hota hai?" she demanded.

"Yeh police interrogation hai kya?" he snapped.

"HAAN!" she shot back instantly. "Aur aap suspect ho!"

He sighed, shaking his head faintly before stepping closer to her again, his voice dropping just slightly.

"Main sirf aapka hoon," he said simply.

That—

That shut her up.

Then she crossed her arms again, trying to look unaffected but her face was pink.

" Sorry... I meant main sirf aapka husband hoon.. You know.. I am a woman man.. Main aise cheat nahi karta" he responded equally flustered.

"Haan haan," she muttered. "Dialogue mat maaro."

A faint smile tugged at his lips before he turned toward the bathroom again.

"Aur haan!" she called after him one last time as he reached the door, unable to stop herself. "Agar woh dubara 'Akshu' bole na—"

"Kya karengi aap?" he asked, almost amused now.

" Toh dono ko encounter mein khatam kardungi" she snapped.

He let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh, shaking his head before finally disappearing into the bathroom.

It was a bright sunny morning on Tuesday, the birds were chirping in the courtyard, and the air was filled with the laughter of young children. Veer's mercedes pulled over in front of the school.

" Haan kaka, idhar hi gaadi rok lena" he said with a smile towards their driver Anil Kaka.

Anil kaka soon got out of the car and left towards the rickshaw.

" Bye Saheb... aapki dinner enjoy karlena"

" thank you kaka!" Veer smiled as he got into the driver's seat.

He was twenty minutes early because he'd left the office the moment the clock struck 5 , making some excuse to his father about an urgent meeting. Funny enough, his urgent meeting was currently inside that yellow building, wiping chalk dust off her hands.

He pulled out his phone, looking at his reflection in the Iphone's camera feeling ridiculous. Yeh main kya kar raha hoon? Teenagers ki tarah chhup ke wait kar raha hoon apni biwi ka.

The school bell rang, and within minutes, a flood of children poured out of the main entrance, their laughter and chatter filling the quiet street. Veer's eyes remained fixed on the door, waiting for er.

Shriya emerged from the building, her burgundy saree catching the golden light of the evening sun. She had her bag slung over one shoulder, and she was smiling at something one of the other teachers was saying. 

Kitni khubsurat lagti hai meri biwi, he thought, unable to look away.

She was saying goodbye to her colleague when a little girl, no more than six, came running up to her. The child's shoelaces had come undone, and before Veer could even process what was happening, Shriya had already crouched down to the girl's level, her saree pooling around her as she patiently tied the laces. She was saying something that made the little girl giggle, gently tapping her nose before the child ran off to her mom.

What if.. ek din.. Aise hi... hamari beti ke saath bhi ... this idea formed naturally in his mind.

He could almost see it, Shriya tying their daughter's shoelaces, that same patient smile, that same gentleness.

Chiii Veer! He caught himself immediately, his face heating up despite being alone in the backseat of the car. Shaadi toh abhi hui hai... 2 mahine bhi nahi hue! Kya kya soch raha hai tu, gande dimaag? Pehle toh usse dhang se baat karna seekh.

But the image wouldn't quite leave his mind as he quickly got out of the car and crossed the street before he could overthink it further.

"Shriya ji!"

She turned at the sound of her name, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him standing there, hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets.

"Veer ji? Aap... aap yahan?"

"Haan, woh..." He cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the pavement. "Maine socha... dinner ke liye pick up kar loon aapko . Agar aap... matlab, agar aapko koi problem na ho toh."

A shy smile tugged at her lips, and she adjusted her bag strap, . "Problem? Nahi toh... but you could've just called, na? Itni door office se aana pada."

"Nahi, it's fine. Main... main yahaan se hi aa raha tha." The lie was terrible and they both knew it. His office was in the complete opposite direction.

They started walking toward the car, a careful foot of distance between them. Shriya gave a small wave to a few students who called out "Bye, Maam!!".

"Woh sab aapke students hain?" he asked, grateful for something to say.

"Haan, Class 2. Bilkul shaitan hain sab, par..." Her expression softened. "...bahut pyaare bhi."

He opened the car door for her, and she murmured a soft "thank you" before sliding in. The jasmine scent of her perfume lingered as he walked around to the driver's side.

As he started the car, Shriya glanced at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Toh... yeh hai kya? Ek... date?"

Veer nearly stalled the car. "Date? Nahi... matlab... haan? Uh..." His ears turned red. "Agar aap chahti ho toh, we can call it that. Ya just dinner. Normal dinner. Married people dinner."

Her soft laugh filled the car, and despite his embarrassment, Veer felt his own lips twitching into a smile.

They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the radio playing some old Kishore Kumar song softly in the background. Veer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, building up courage.

"Shriya ji?"

"Hmm?"

"Main... main aapse kuch poochh sakta hoon?"

She turned to look at him properly. "Haan, of course. Puchiye."

"Aapke ... aapke sapne kya hain? Matlab, future mein tum kya karna chahti ho?" He kept his eyes on the road, afraid that looking at her would make him lose his nerve. "I know you love teaching, but... is there something more? Something you've always wanted to do?"

Shriya was quiet for a moment, and Veer worried he'd overstepped. But when he risked a glance at her, she was looking out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Aapko sunke weird lagega shayad," she said softly.

"Nahi, batao na. Please."

She took a breath. "Main... main apna khud ka school kholna chahti hoon. Ek din."

"School?"

"Haan, par aise nahi... fancy wala nahi. Simple." Her voice grew more animated, her hands gesturing as she spoke. "Gaon ke bachon ke liye, ya un bachon ke liye jo afford nahi kar sakte private school. Papa hamesha kehte the ki education sabka haq hai, par... par sab tak pahunchti nahi hai na? Main bas... main bas thoda sa farak lana chahti hoon. Chote se hi sahi."

She stopped abruptly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, main zyada bol gayi. Aap bore ho gaye honge."

"Nahi!" Veer said it so emphatically that she looked at him in surprise. He softened his tone. "Nahi, bilkul nahi. Main... I think that's really beautiful, Shriya. Aapka yeh sapna."

"Sach mein?"

"Haan, sach mein." He smiled, and this time when their eyes met at the traffic light, neither looked away immediately. "Aur agar... agar aapko kabhi kisi cheez ki zaroorat ho, for this dream, toh... toh mujhe bata dena. Main... I'd like to help. Agar aap chaho toh."

Shriya's expression became so softer that he couldn't quite name. "Thank you," she whispered. "Aapne poocha, uske liye bhi."

As the light turned green and they drove on, Veer couldn't stop the warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe they were still strangers in so many ways, still learning the hesitant dance of this new relationship.

Ek din, he thought, stealing another glance at his wife as she gazed out at the passing city, the setting sun catching in her eyes. Ek din we'll get there.

The restaurant Veer had chosen was perfect, it was modest but fancy enough that Shriya would not feel uncomfortable. . Soft golden lights hung from the ceiling, and the gentle murmur of conversations created a warm ambiance. A waiter led them to a corner table with a view of the garden, small diyas flickering on the windowsill.

Shriya settled into her chair, smoothing her saree carefully, and Veer found himself watching the way her bangles chimed softly with each movement.

"Aapko yeh jagah kaisi lagi?" he asked, hoping he'd chosen well.

"Bahut pyaari hai," she said, glancing around with genuine delight. "Aap yahaan pehle aaye hain?"

"Nahi, actually. Rishabh ne recommend kiya tha, mere colleague. He said the food is really good."

The waiter appeared with menus, and they both studied them with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for exam papers.

"Aap kya lena chahenge?" Veer asked after a moment.

Shriya bit her lower lip, clearly torn. "Mujhe... mujhe paneer pasand hai, par..." She looked up at him shyly. "Aap decide kar lijiye, Veer ji. Mujhe sab theek hai."

"Nahi nahi, aap batao. Jo bhi aapko pasand ho." He meant it. He wanted to know these small things about her, what she liked, what made her happy.

"Toh... paneer tikka masala? Aur tandoor naan?"

"Perfect. Main shaahi paneer le leta hoon, aur hum share kar sakte hain? Agar aapko koi issue na ho?"

Her eyes lit up at that. "Haan! I mean... haan, that sounds nice."

Veer placed the order, paneer tikka masala, shahi paneer , tandoor naan, plain naan, jeera rice, and at the last moment, he added, "Aur ek gulab jamun. Aur ek rasmalai."

"Aapko meetha pasand hai?" Shriya asked.

"Mujhe? Bahut zyada. Aapko?"

"Main... haan, mujhe bhi. Papa kehte the ki I have a terrible sweet tooth." A shadow crossed her face at the mention of her father, who had passed away two years ago.

Veer reached across the table instinctively, stopping just short of touching her hand. "Woh bahut proud hote aapke... aapke school ke sapne ko sunke."

She smiled, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. "Thank you, Veer ji."

The waiter brought water, and they fell into a comfortable pause before Shriya spoke again.

"Aap... aapka din kaisa tha? Office mein?"

"Boring meetings. Bahut saari," he said with a small groan. "But I kept thinking... ki jaldi se nikalna hai. Main zyada late nahi hona chahta tha."

"Aapko jaldi kya thi?" she asked innocently, taking a sip of water.

"Aapko dekhne ki," he said simply, then immediately seemed to realize what he'd said. His ears turned red. "Matlab... office se nikalne ki. Fresh air chahiye thi. Bahut... bahut stuffy tha andar."

Shriya hid her smile behind her glass.

Their food arrived, steaming and fragrant, and for a few minutes, they busied themselves with serving each other. Veer put extra paneer on her plate; Shriya added more rice to his.

"Yeh sab aapka favorite hai?" she asked, gesturing to the spread.

"Haan, mostly. Gharpe bhi yahi sab banta rehta hai." He paused. "Aapko... aapko ghar mein sab theek lag raha hai na? Anita bua kabhi kabhi thodi... demanding ho sakti hain, par unka matlab accha hota hai."

"Nahi nahi, aur mummy bhu bahut sweet hain. Kal unhone mujhe apni saari collection dikhayi, aur bataya ki kaun si saree kis occasion pe peheni thi." Shriya smiled. "Woh bahut pyaar se baat karti hain aapse. Breakfast mein bas aapki hi baatein."

Veer looked embarrassed. "Haan, woh... I'm her youngest son toh thoda... you know."

"It's sweet," Shriya said softly. "Family close hona chahiye. Aaj kal Akshay bhaiyya bhi bahut kam ghar nazar aarahe hai"

Veer smiled gently, " Aap fikar naa karo.. Unka kaam hi aisa hai"

They ate in silence for a bit, occasionally passing dishes to each other. Veer noticed how Shriya always took small, careful bites, how she dabbed her mouth with the napkin after every few bites.

"Shriya ji?"

"Ji?"

"Main... main aapse ek baat poochu? Personal hai thodi."

She looked up, curious but not uncomfortable. "Haan, puchiye."

"Aapko... aapko iss shaadi ke baare mein kaisa laga? Matlab, I know it was arranged, aur hum dono ne ek doosre ko shaadi se pehle barely dekha tha..." He was fumbling with his words. "I just want to know if you're... if you're okay. Happy. Ya kam se kam... comfortable?"

Shriya set down her fork, considering her answer carefully. "Main... honest answer chahiye?"

"Haan, please."

"Pehle dar lag raha tha," she admitted. "Bahut zyada. New house, new people, aur aap... aapko main jaanti hi kitna thi? But..." She looked at him directly. "...aap bahut acche hain, Veer ji. Bahut considerate. Aap... aap puchte hain. Mere sapne, meri pasand, kya mujhe comfortable hai ya nahi. Yeh... yeh bahut matlab rakhta hai."

Veer felt warmth spread through his chest. "Main bas... main chahta hoon ki aap khush raho. Aur agar kabhi koi problem ho, toh mujhe bata dena. Please."

"Theek hai," she said with a shy smile. "Waise promise."

"Aur woh... woh bedroom wali arrangement bhi," Veer continued, his courage building. "Main chahta hoon ki aap jaano ki main kabhi koi pressure nahi dalunga. Hum apne time pe... matlab, jab dono comfortable ho, tab..." He trailed off, mortified at his own words.

"Main jaanti hoon," Shriya said quietly, saving him from further embarrassment. "Aur... aur main appreciate karti hoon yeh."

The waiter came to refill their water, breaking the intimate moment. They both reached for the same naan at the same time, hands brushing. Both pulled back quickly.

"Sorry! Aap lijiye," Veer said.

"Nahi nahi, aap."

"Shriya ji, please—"

"Half half kar lete hain?" she suggested, and they both laughed at the absurdity of their politeness.

As the evening progressed, their conversation grew easier, more natural. Shriya told him about her students, little Aarav who always forgot his homework but remembered everyone's birthdays, Riya who wanted to be an astronaut, and Karan who brought her drawings every day.

"Aapko bachhe bahut pasand hain," Veer observed.

"Haan... bahut. Woh itne innocent hote hain na, itne pure. Unke saath time spend karne mein alag hi sukoon milta hai." She paused, then added shyly, "Mujhe... mujhe hamesha se ek bada family chahiye tha. Bahut saare bachhe."

"Kitne saare?" Veer asked, genuinely curious.

"Kam se kam teen-chaar," she said, then seemed to realize what she'd said. Her face flushed. "Matlab... future mein... agar... you know..."

Veer, trying to ease her embarrassment and be supportive, said earnestly, "Haan, bilkul. Aur practice bhi toh karni padegi na, toh—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his brain finally catching up with his mouth. His eyes went wide with horror.

Shriya, who had just taken a sip of water, promptly choked and spit it back into her glass, coughing violently. Her face turned the color of her maroon saree.

" Ji????" she yelped.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I meant—practice matlab parenting skills! Books padhna, aur... aur baby care classes! NOT—main woh nahi—" Veer was standing now, horrified, his napkin in hand, completely panicking. "Shriya ji, main sach mein... main woh... CHIII! I'm so sorry!"

Shriya was coughing and laughing at the same time, tears streaming down her face. Other diners were definitely staring now.

"Main... main theek hoon," she managed between coughs, her face still burning. "Bas... bas thoda sa... unexpected tha."

"Main bahut bada bevakoof hoon," Veer muttered, sitting back down and covering his face with his hands. "Aap mujhe complete idiot samajh rahi hongi."

"Nahi," Shriya said, her voice still shaky from laughter. "Nahi, main... it's okay. Aap nervous the, main samajh sakti hoon."

They sat in mortified silence for a moment before Shriya started giggling again. Then Veer joined in, and soon they were both trying to contain their laughter, drawing even more curious looks.

"Kya hum yahan se nikal sakte hain?" Veer whispered. "Main apni poori life mein kabhi itna embarrassed nahi hua."

"Dessert ka kya? Aapne order kiya tha," Shriya reminded him, her eyes still dancing with amusement.

"Parcel karwa lete hain," he decided. "Please?"

Ten minutes later, they were walking back to the car, a bag of gulab jamun and rasmalai swinging from Veer's hand. The night air was cool and welcome after the stuffy restaurant.

"I really am sorry," Veer said for the tenth time.

"Veer ji, it's fine. Really." Shriya was still smiling. "Waise bhi, ab main jaanti hoon ki aap nervous hone pe kya kya bol dete hain."

"Please yeh baat kisi ko mat batana. Especially not Mummy. She'll never let me live it down."

"Hmm, main sochungi," Shriya teased, and Veer looked at her in mock horror.

As they reached the car, Shriya's saree got caught in her sandal as she stepped off the curb. She stumbled slightly, and Veer caught her elbow to steady her.

"Ruk jayiye," he said softly.

Before Shriya could process what was happening, Veer had knelt down right there on the sidewalk, carefully freeing the delicate fabric from where it had tangled in her heel. But he didn't just free it, he took his time, gently adjusting the pleats that had come undone, making sure each fold lay properly, his fingers careful and reverent.

People walking by glanced at them curiously, but Veer didn't seem to notice or care.

"Veer ji, aap... log dekh rahe hain," Shriya whispered, mortified and touched at the same time.

He looked up at her from where he knelt, and in the soft glow of the streetlight, his expression was so tender it made her breath catch.

"Toh dekhne dijiye," he said simply. "Aap meri patni hain. Agar aapka kaam main nahi karunga, toh aur kaun karega?"

He stood up, brushing off his knees, and said with complete sincerity, "Waise bhi, aapne itne pyaar se yeh saari pehni hai... main usse bigadne kaise de sakta hoon?"

Shriya felt her heart do something complicated in her chest.

"Thank you," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He opened the car door for her, and as she settled in, she noticed he was still making sure her saree was tucked in properly before closing the door.

As they drove home, Shriya stole glances at him in the dim light of passing streetlamps. This man who said awkward things and turned red at the smallest intimacy, who knelt on sidewalks to fix her saree pleats, who asked about her dreams and meant it.

Shaayad, she thought, her heart feeling fuller than it had in a long time, shaayad yeh arranged marriage itni buri nahi hai.

"Shriya ji?" Veer's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Ji?"

"Woh dinner... disaster toh nahi tha na?"

She smiled. "Nahi, Veer ji. Bilkul bhi nahi. It was... perfect."

And watching the way his face lit up at her words, Shriya realized she meant it.

.........................................................

After a long evening, of shopping in the busy high end supermarkets, Mishti and Pihu parked the rented car in the parking area of Mahalaxmi Society.

Mishti was unloading groceries from her car, bags balanced in both arms, when she heard Pihu's delighted squeal.

" Pihu beta... sambhaal ke!"

"Maan uncle! Maan uncle, dekhiye, maine new dress pehni hai!"

Mishti turned to see her daughter running across the driveway, running straight toward the street where Abhimanyu's car was pulling in.

Everything happened in slow motion and yet too fast.

A speeding motorcycle came around the corner, the rider looking down at his phone instead of the road.

Pihu, in her excitement, her little feet in those light-up sandals, stepped off the curb.

Mishti's grocery bags hit the ground. "PIHU!"

But Abhimanyu was faster.

He lunged out of his barely-parked car, leaving the door swinging open, and caught Pihu around the waist, yanking her back so hard they both tumbled onto the grass near the lot. . The motorcycle missed them by inches, the rider cursing as he swerved and sped away.

Mishti ran, her heart in her throat, her entire body shaking.

"Pihu! Baby!" She dropped to her knees beside them.

Pihu was crying now, more from the shock than anything else, clutching Abhimanyu's shirt. "Mumma... Mumma, main gir gayi..."

"It's okay, baby, you're okay, Mumma's here " Mishti reached for her daughter, her hands trembling violently.

But Abhimanyu didn't let go immediately. He was breathing hard, his face pale, his arms still tight around Pihu as if afraid she might disappear.

"Abhi—" Mishti started.

"KYA HO RAHA THA TUMHE?" he growled angrily.

The roar made both Mishti and Pihu flinch. Abhimanyu's voice was loud, raw with fury. He stood up, still holding Pihu, his eyes blazing as he turned on Mishti.

"Abhi, please, Pihu ko—"

"Tum kya kar rahi thi? KAHAN THI TUMHARI NAZAR?" He was shouting now, and neighbors were beginning to peek out of windows. "Ek chaar saal ki bachhi road ke paas akele chhod di? Kya tumhe koi sense hai ya nahi?"

"Abhimanyu, main—"

"Main WHAT? Tum groceries mein busy thi? Phone pe thi? KYA?" His hands were shaking as he held Pihu close. "Do you have any idea.. ek second aur, sirf ek second, aur—"

He couldn't finish the sentence. The image of what could have happened was clearly playing behind his eyes.

Mishti felt tears burning her throat. "Tum samajhte kya ho apne aap ko? Mere beti ko—"

"TUMHARI beti! Haan, TUMHARI responsibility hai woh! Toh responsibility ki tarah behave karo!" Abhimanyu's voice cracked. "Kya tumhe koi farak nahi padta? Kya tumhe—"

"Maan uncle, please... aap chilla kyu rahe ho?" Pihu whimpered, and it seemed to bring Abhimanyu back slightly. He immediately softened his tone for the child, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, princess. Uncle gussa nahi hai tumse. Tum bilkul theek ho?" He checked her over carefully, her arms, her legs, looking for any scrapes.

"Haan... par aap Mumma ko daant kyu rahe ho?" Pihu's lower lip trembled.

"Kyunki tumhari Mumma ko thoda careful rehna chahiye," he said, but his eyes were still on Mishti, hard and unforgiving. "Thoda aur responsible."

"How DARE you?" Her voice was low, dangerous. She stood up, snatching Pihu from his arms. Her daughter clung to her immediately. "How dare you tell me about responsibility?"

"Someone needs to! Clearly tumhe khud nahi pata!" he shot back.

"Main ek second ke liye—literally EK second—" she argued back.

"Aur usi ek second mein kya ho sakta tha, tumhe andaaza bhi hai?" Abhimanyu ran his hand through his hair, still visibly shaken. "Tumhe nahi lagta ki thoda—"

"Tum mujhe lecture mat do parenting ka!" Mishti's voice rose. "Tum kya jaano ki akele ek bachhi ko paalna kya hota hai? Har waqt. har ek second. uski chinta? Tum kya samjhoge?"

"Toh phir aur careful raho! Agar itna tough hai toh—"

"TOH KYA? Kya kehna chahte ho tum?" Mishti's eyes were blazing now, tears streaming down her face. "Kehdo clearly! Ki main ek achi maa nahi hoon? Yehi kehna hai na?"

"Maine yeh nahi kaha—"

"Par yahi matlab hai na tumhara? Abhimanyu Khanna, jo khud kisi ke liye responsible nahi hai, jo khud ke alawa kisi ke baare mein sochta tak nahi—WOH mujhe lecture de raha hai?"

"At least main yahaan hoon," he said, his voice dropping to something quieter but infinitely more cutting. "At least main bhaag ke nahi gaya."

Mishti froze.

"Kya... kya kaha tumne?"

"Tumne suna." Abhimanyu's jaw was tight. "Ek din.. ek din announce kiya ki London ja rahi ho, aur phir? Phir kya? 5 saal. PAANCH SAAL, Mishti. Ek phone call nahi. Ek text nahi. Akshay ne kitni baar try kiya tumse baat karne, pata hai? Tumhaari shaadi ki khabar bhi nahi kuch bhi nahi.. Main ne—"

"TUMNE kya? Tumne kya, Abhimanyu?" she asked, her eyes were blazing red now.

"Kuch nahi. Forget it."

"NAHI! Bolo! Tumne bhi try kiya tha kya? Mujhse contact karne ke liye?" Her voice was mocking now, bitter. "Kyun kiya hoga? Care thodi na karti thi tum? Hamesha se hi sirf irritate hota tha na main tumhe?"

"Yeh baat nahi hai—"

"TOH PHIR KYA BAAT HAI?" Mishti was sobbing now, Pihu clutching her neck tightly, also crying. "Main chali gayi toh tumhe kya farak pada? Tumhari toh best friend thi na main nahi! Hamesha Akshay hi tumhara favorite tha! Main toh bas woh annoying Mishti thi jo tum dono ke peeche peeche ghumti thi!"

"That's not—GOD, Mishti, yeh sab kahan se aa raha hai?"

"Tumhare muh se! Tumne hi toh kaha tha—last time, jab main jaa rahi thi—tumne hi kaha tha 'Good riddance, finally kuch peace milega!'"

Abhimanyu's face went pale. "Main... main maazak kar raha tha! You knew that! Don't make me the villain here.. Maine—"

"Haan, maze mein sachai nikal aati hai na?" Mishti wiped her tears angrily. "Toh ab kya? Ab main yahan aa gayi toh phir se tumhari 'peace' kharab ho gayi? Sorry. So sorry ki meri zindagi itni mess hai ki meri beti almost—"

Her voice broke completely. She couldn't say it.

Abhimanyu took a step forward, his expression shifting, his voice softening. "Mishti, main—"

"Nahi." She stepped back, holding Pihu tighter. "Nahi, tum bilkul sahi keh rahe the. Main careless hoon. Irresponsible hoon. Bhaag gayi thi, ab wapas aa gayi—sab kuch galat hai mujhme."

"Maine yeh nahi kaha—"

"EXACTLY yahi kaha tumne!" Mishti's voice cracked. "Aur tum jaante ho sabse buri baat kya hai? Yeh ki tum sahi bhi ho. Main... main ek second ke liye distracted ho gayi aur meri beti almost—"

Abhimanyu's expression crumpled. "Mishti, please, main—I didn't mean—"

"Pihu." Mishti's voice turned steely as she looked at her daughter, wiping the little girl's tears. "Baby, sun meri baat. Tum Maan uncle se baat nahi karogi. Theek hai?"

"Par Mumma—" Pihu's eyes went wide.

"NO. Abse tum unke paas nahi jaogi. Nahi unka ghar, nahi unse khelna. Clear?"

"MUMMA, NAHI!" Pihu started crying harder. "Maan uncle se baat karni hai mujhe!"

"Mishti, yeh mat karo," Abhimanyu said, and for the first time, his voice held something like pleading. "Bachhi ki kya galti hai? Gussa bachi pe mat nikaalo. MUJH PAR NIKAALO.. Woh toh—"

"Oh, NOW tumhe Pihu ki chinta hai?" Mishti laughed bitterly. "Abhi toh main hi careless thi? Toh theek hai, main apni 'carelessness' tumhare aur Pihu ke beech nahi aane dungi. Come on, Pihu."

"Mishti, wait—"

But she was already walking away, Pihu crying in her arms, the little girl reaching back toward Abhimanyu with desperate hands.

"MAAN UNCLE! Mumma please! Maan uncle!"

Abhimanyu stood frozen in his driveway, watching them go, his heart hammering in his chest.

What had he done?

He'd been terrified—that image of Pihu stepping into the road, of what could have happened—it had made him lash out. But the things he'd said...

"Bhaag ke nahi gaya."

And that comment from 5 years ago—"Good riddance"—he'd been twenty-one and stupid and heartbroken that she was leaving, and he'd said the cruelest thing he could think of to hide how much it hurt.

.

The groceries Mishti had dropped were still scattered across her driveway. A carton of milk had split, pooling white across the concrete.

From her house, he could still hear Pihu crying. "Maan uncle... I want Maan uncle..."

And Mishti's voice, thick with tears: "Baby, please... please shh... Mumma's here... Mumma's got you..."

Abhimanyu closed his eyes.

He'd spent 5 years angry at her for leaving.

He'd spent 5 years pretending he didn't care.

And now she was back, with a daughter, with a past he knew nothing about, with pain he'd only added to.

Kya kar diya maine?

He looked at his hands... the same hands that had caught Pihu, that had held her safe.

.....

Abhimanyu stormed into his house, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.

"NIMMI MAASI!"

From the kitchen came the sound of gentle humming, completely unbothered by his dramatic entrance. Nimmi Maasi appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her dupatta, her reading glasses perched on her nose.

"Haan baba, chilla kyun raha hai? Kya hua?"

"Aapko pata hai kya hua?" Abhimanyu threw himself onto the sofa like a teenager. "Mishti Banerjee hua! Woh... woh impossibly stubborn, completely unreasonable... irritating ladki... Suparnakha ki premium version—"

"Arre, woh toh bachpan se hi hai," Nimmi Maasi said mildly, settling into her armchair. "Kya naya hua?"

"Aajaaj Pihu almost accident mein—" His voice caught. Even saying it out loud made his stomach turn. "Road pe bhag rahi thi, ek bike aa rahi thi, maine usse bacha liya, aur phir—"

"Phir tune Mishti ko sunaya," Nimmi Maasi finished, her expression knowing.

"Haan! Kyunki uski galti thi! Woh groceries mein itni busy thi ki usse dikha hi nahi ki uski beti kahan jaa rahi hai! Main kya karta? Chup rehta?"

"Hmm." Nimmi Maasi picked up her knitting. "Aur tune kya kaha exactly?"

Abhimanyu shifted uncomfortably. "Maine... maine kaha ki woh careless hai. Irresponsible. Aur... aur ki woh bhaag gayi thi London, contact nahi rakha..."

"Beta," Nimmi Maasi said slowly, "Tum thode se pagal hokya?"

"MAASI!"

"Nahi seriously, I'm asking. Dimaag theek hai tera?" She put down her knitting to look at him properly. "Ek maa ko.. abhi abhi apni bachhi ko almost kho dete dekhi.. usko yeh sab bola? Uske sabse painful decision ko uske muh pe phenka?"

"Par uski galti thi!" Abhimanyu insisted, but his voice lacked conviction now.

"Haan, ek second ke liye distracted ho gayi. Toh tum perfect ho? Kabhi koi mistake nahi hui tumse?" Nimmi Maasi shook her head. "Abhimanyu, woh already khud ko blame kar rahi hogi. Usse tumhare lecture ki zaroorat nahi thi—usse support ki zaroorat thi."

Abhimanyu was quiet for a long moment. "Main... main bahut dar gaya tha, Maasi. Jab maine Pihu ko dekha, woh bike, main—"

"Toh woh dar gusse mein nikal diya. Main samajh sakti hoon." Her voice softened. "Par ab? Kya karega ab?"

"Woh mujhse baat hi nahi karegi. Usne Pihu ko bhi mana kar diya hai mujhse milne ke liye."

"Accha kiya usne," Nimmi Maasi said matter-of-factly, picking up her knitting again.

"MAASI! Aap mera side lo ya uska?"

"Main sach ka side le rahi hoon. Tu galat tha, ab consequences bhugat."

Abhimanyu groaned, covering his face with a cushion.

A few hours later., the doorbell rang just as Abhimanyu was attempting to stress-eat his way through dinner.

"Main dekhti hoon," Nimmi Maasi called out.

Abhimanyu heard the door open, then Nimmi Maasi's delighted exclamation: "Mishti beta! Aa, aa andar!"

Abhimanyu nearly choked on his dal.

"Nahi, Maasi, main andar nahi aa rahi," came Mishti's voice, carefully polite. "Bas aapko dena tha yeh."

Abhimanyu got up quietly, moving to where he could see the front door. Mishti stood on the doorstep, holding a container. the one Nimmi Maasi had sent gajar ka halwa in last week.

She looked tired. Her eyes were slightly red, her hair in a messy bun, wearing a simple kurti. She was studiously looking everywhere except inside the house.

"Arre, yeh toh theek hai beta, par tu andar toh aa—"

"Nahi, Maasi, mujhe jana hai actually. Bahut kaam hai. Pihu ko bhi sulana hai early tonight, kal uska school hai—"

"Pihu kaisi hai?" Abhimanyu found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Mishti's spine went rigid. Her eyes flickered to him for a millisecond before looking away.

"Nimmi Maasi," she said, as if he hadn't spoken at all, "agar aapko kuch chahiye ho, aap mujhe batayega. Main de dungi."

"Mishti—" Abhimanyu started.

"Maasi, woh jo aapne kaha tha na, chai ki patti ka brand? Main kal le aaungi aapke liye." She was talking slightly too fast, her voice determinedly bright.

"Beta, Abhi tujhse baat kar raha hai—"

"Haan, Maasi, maine suna. Par mujhe nahi karni baat." She finally looked at Abhimanyu, her expression ice-cold. "Kuch kehna hai aapko, Nimmi Maasi ko kehiye. Woh mujhe bata dengi. Agar important hoga toh."

"Mishti, yeh bachpana—"

"Accha? Main bachpana kar rahi hoon?" Her eyebrow rose dangerously. "Interesting. Aur kya kehna hai? Careless bhi hoon? Irresponsible bhi? Aur sunao?"

Nimmi Maasi looked between them, fascinated.

"Main toh bas—"

"Maasi," Mishti cut him off smoothly, "aapka phone number abhi bhi wahi hai na? Main kal subah call karungi aapko."

"Haan beta, par—"

"Perfect. Okay, good night, Maasi." She turned to leave.

"Pihu kahan hai?" Abhimanyu asked quickly.

Mishti paused. "Ghar pe."

"Akeli?"

"Meri help ke saath." Her tone was clipped. "Kuch aur?"

"Main... main usse mil sakta hoon?"

"Nahi."

"Meri choti roshgulla...—"

"Uska naam Pihu hai aapke liye," she corrected icily. "Aur nahi, nahi mil sakte. Good night."

She was already walking away, her dupatta billowing behind her.

Abhimanyu watched her go, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

Nimmi Maasi closed the door, turning to him with barely suppressed amusement. "Wah beta. 'Pihu kahan hai?' Bahut smooth hai tu."

"Maasi, yeh mazak ka time nahi hai!"

"Tere liye nahi, mere liye bilkul hai." She patted his cheek. "Good luck, beta. Bahut zaroorat padegi."

That night, Abhimanyu lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The problem was simple: Mishti wasn't letting him see Pihu.

The solution should be simple too: apologize to Mishti, get her to forgive him, get access to Pihu back.

Simple. Easy. Straightforward.

So why did the thought of apologizing to Mishti make his heart race like he was planning a corporate takeover?

Because it's Mishti, a traitorous voice in his head supplied. Because it's always been different with Mishti.

"Shut up," he told the ceiling.

He needed a plan. A good one. Mishti was stubborn, always had been. She wouldn't forgive easily, not after what he'd said.

Flowers?

No, too generic. Mishti would probably throw them at his head.

Chocolate?

She was stress-eating chocolate chip ice cream when they were seventeen and stressed about boards. Did she still like it?

Wait, why did he remember that?

Focus, Abhimanyu.

He needed to win her back. For Pihu. Obviously for Pihu. Because Pihu was a sweet kid who didn't deserve to lose her "Maan uncle" because her mother was a idiot ( according to him).

Just Pihu. This is about Pihu.

The way Mishti's eyes had flashed with anger earlier, the way she'd held herself together even though he could see she'd been crying, the way she'd completely frozen him out with that polite coldness.

Stop thinking about Mishti. Think about Pihu.

Right. Pihu. Small. Cute. Four years old. Called him Maan uncle. That was who he was trying to get back.

Not Mishti.

Definitely not Mishti with her beautifully expressive doe eyes and her stubborn chin and the way she'd looked at him like he'd broken her heart.

"PIHU," he said out loud to his empty room. "I'm trying to win back PIHU."

His phone buzzed. A text from Aaravi : Bro, kya kaand kiya aapne bhaiyya... saare mohalle waale baat kar rahe hai.

Abhimanyu stared at the message.

Yeah. Didn't go well.

What did you do?

Why do you assume I did something?

Because I know you. What did you do?

Abhimanyu sighed and typed out a summary. Aaravi response was immediate:

DUDE. You brought up London? Are you INSANE?

I was angry!

You're an idiot. A massive idiot. Fix this.

I'm trying!

Try harder. And Abhi Bhaiyya? Be honest with yourself about WHY you're trying.

Abhimanyu threw his phone onto the nightstand.

The next morning, Abhimanyu stood in the flower shop/

"Sir, kis occasion ke liye chahiye?" the florist asked.

"I need to apologize."

"Aahh." The man nodded knowingly. "Biwi ko ?"

"What? No! I mean—she's not—we're not—" Why was he flustered? "Just... a friend. Neighbor. She's angry."

"Kitna angry?"

"Won't talk to me angry. Banned me from seeing her daughter angry."

The florist whistled. "Toh phir yeh wale nahi chalenge." He gestured to the simple bouquets. "Aapko grand gesture chahiye."

Twenty minutes later, Abhimanyu was walking back home with the biggest bouquet of roses he'd ever seen.

He marched over to Mishti's house, rehearsing his apology. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was scared and I lashed out and—

Mishti opened it, saw him, saw the flowers, and immediately started closing the door.

"WAIT! Mishti, please!"

"Mujhe aapse baat nahi karni!"

"Bas ek minute! Please!"

She paused, the door half-closed. "Kya?"

"I'm sorry." He thrust the flowers forward. "I'm really, really sorry. Maine jo kaha tha, woh.. woh galat tha. Main darr gaya tha, aur maine apna darr tumpe nikaal diya, aur that wasn't fair."

Mishti looked at the flowers, then at him. Her expression was unreadable.

"You done?"

"I—what?"

"Apology ho gayi? Good. Ab jao." She started closing the door again.

"Mishti, WAIT! Please, just—"

"Kya chahiye, Abhimanyu?" She yanked the door open, and now he could see the anger in her eyes. "Sorry bol diya, flowers le aaye, ab main khush ho jaaun? Sab theek ho jaye?"

"Nahi, I mean—"

"Tumhe kya lagta hai? Ki main itni simple hoon? Sorry bol doge aur main pighal jaungi?"

"Nahi! Main toh bas—"

"Tumne sahi kaha tha kal," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "Main careless hoon. Ek second ke liye distracted ho gayi aur meri beti almost—" Her voice cracked. "Toh tumhe kya lagta hai, main tumhara sorry sun ke better feel karungi? Ya tumhare flowers dekh ke?"

"Mishti, please, I didn't mean—"

"Tum jaante ho sabse bura kya laga mujhe?" Tears were gathering in her eyes now, but her voice was steel. "Yeh nahi ki tumne mujhe careless bola. Yeh ki tumne sahi bola. Main careless hoon. Main akele ek bachhi ko sambhaal nahi paati. Aur tumne woh sach muh pe mara."

"That's not—Mishti, you're an amazing mother—"

"Oh, NOW I'm amazing? Kal toh irresponsible thi?"

Abhimanyu ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look, main galat tha, okay? Completely, totally wrong. Tum ek amazing maa ho. Pihu bahut lucky hai. Maine bas—"

"Pihu." Mishti's expression changed, understanding dawning. "Oh. OH. Yeh Pihu ke liye hai. Yeh apology, yeh flowers—yeh sab Pihu ke liye hai."

"I mean, haan—nahi—dono ke liye—"

"Tumhe Pihu se milna hai isliye yeh natak kar rahe ho."

"Yeh natak nahi hai! I genuinely feel bad!"

"Par primarily tumhe Pihu ki access chahiye." It wasn't a question.

Abhimanyu opened his mouth, then closed it. Because... wasn't that true? Wasn't that exactly what he'd been thinking last night?

Operation Win Back Pihu.

Mishti saw the hesitation on his face and laughed bitterly. "Wow. Okay. At least you're honest."

"Mishti—"

"Keep your flowers, Abhimanyu." She stepped back. "Aur Pihu se milne ki koshish mat karna. I mean it."

"Can I at least—"

"No."

Abhimanyu stood there, holding his enormous bouquet, feeling like an idiot.

From behind him, he heard a small voice: "Maan uncle?"

He turned to see Pihu peeking out from behind the garden gate, her school bag on her shoulders. Mishti's help, Sunita didi, a woman, was with her, clearly taking her to the school bus stop.

"Pihu!" Abhimanyu's face lit up.

The little girl's eyes went wide with joy. She started to run toward him, but the help caught her hand.

"Nahi beta, tumhari maa ne—"

"BAS EK MINUTE! Please, Sunita , ek minute?" Abhimanyu crouched down as Pihu approached cautiously.

"Maan uncle, aap phir se Mumma ko daant rahe the?" Her lower lip trembled. "Mumma raat bhar royi. Maine suna."

Something twisted painfully in Abhimanyu's chest. "Nahi, baby, main... main daant nahi raha tha. Main sorry bol raha tha."

"Toh phir main aapse baat kar sakti hoon?"

"Pihu, beta..." Sunita looked uncomfortable. "Tumhari maa ne kaha tha—"

"Maa ne kya kaha?" Pihu asked, looking up at Abhimanyu.

He swallowed hard. "Tumhari maa ne kaha... ki tum mujhse baat nahi kar sakti. Abhi."

"Par kyun?" Tears filled her eyes. "Maine kya kiya?"

"Tumne kuch nahi kiya, princess. Main... maine kuch galat kiya. Aur jab tak main usse theek nahi kar leta, tab tak... tab tak tumhari maa sahi hai. Tumhe mujhse baat nahi karni chahiye."

"Par main aapse baat karna chahti hoon!" Pihu was crying now. "But you're my favourite na!"

Abhimanyu felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. "Tum bhi mere favorite ho, Pihu. Par... par kabhi kabhi jab bade log galti karte hain, toh unhe punishment milti hai. Yeh meri punishment hai."

"Toh sorry bolo na Mumma ko!"

"Maine bola. Par... par kabhi kabhi sorry kaafi nahi hota."

Sunita gently tugged Pihu's hand. "Chalo beta, bus aa jayegi."

Pihu looked back at Abhimanyu as she was led away, her face heartbroken. "Main aapse phir kabhi baat nahi kar paungi?"

"Kar paogi," Abhimanyu promised, his voice rough. "Pakka. Bas... bas thoda wait karna padega. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, wiping her tears.

As they walked away, Abhimanyu stood there in Mishti's driveway, still holding his bouquet of rejected roses, watching Pihu's small figure disappear around the corner.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER! SORRY ABOUT THE LONG WAIT! EDITING THIS CHAPTER TOOK ALMOST A WEEK YALL! PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT!