42. INVITATION
AAROHI:
By the time we return to the haveli, the sky has already darkened into deep indigo.
The gates close behind the car with a familiar heaviness, like the world outside is being sealed away again.
I don't know why, but tonight that sound doesn't scare me as much as it used to.
Maybe because I'm not coming back alone in my thoughts anymore.
The car stops. Veeransh gets down first, as always. He opens my door without a word. I still pause for half a second before placing my hand in his, even though he's been doing this consistently since Kashmir. Old habits don't disappear easily. Fear remembers faster than the heart.
His grip is firm, steady, not pulling, not rushing.
Inside the haveli, everything looks the same, the wide corridors, the carved pillars, the quiet authority resting in every corner.
Yet something feels different. Or maybe it's me who has changed a little.
I walk toward our room to freshen up before dinner.
The word our still feels strange in my head, but I don't push it away anymore. I change into a simple pastel salwar suit, tie my hair loosely, and wash my face. When I look at myself in the mirror, I pause. I don't look scared.
Tired, yes. Healing, definitely. But not scared. That realization sits with me longer than it should. Dinner is already set when we arrive. Veeransh's mother is seated at the head of the table, Suhana beside her, scrolling through her phone and humming softly.
The warm yellow lights make everything look softer, kinder. "Beta, come," maa says gently when she sees me. "Sit." I take the seat beside Veeransh. Habit again. Comfort, maybe.
Servants move quietly, placing dishes on the table. The smell of food fills the room, but before anyone starts eating, maa clears her throat, that familiar expression on her face, the one she gets when something important is coming. "There's something," she says. "I wanted to tell you all."
Veeransh looks up immediately. "What happened, maa?" She smiles slightly. "Your bua's son's marriage has been fixed." Suhana gasps dramatically. "Really? Finally!"
Maa nods. "Yes. The wedding is after one week. But we might have to leave tomorrow itself." I look up, surprised. "Tomorrow?" She turns to me kindly. "Yes beta. They might need some help. It's a house wedding, there are many arrangements."
Mumbai. The word forms silently in my mind. Suhana claps her hands excitedly. "That's going to be so much fun! Bhabhi, you haven't met them yet, right? You'll love bua ji. And all of us going together, full family trip!"
I smile politely, nodding, even though my chest tightens just a little. Traveling again. New place. New people. I glance at Veeransh unconsciously. "I'll manage my work online," he says calmly, as if this decision has already settled inside him.
Maa looks relieved. "That's good. Then there won't be any problem." She turns to me. "Aarohi beta, you also pack your things. We'll leave tomorrow morning." "Yes," I reply softly. "Okay."
Suhana leans toward me, eyes sparkling. "Bhabhi, do you want help with packing? You know, Mumbai weddings are big. You'll need outfits." I shake my head quickly, smiling. "No, I can manage. Thank you." She pouts playfully. "Aww, okay. But if you need anything, I'm here."
Dinner continues after that, but my mind doesn't settle. Mumbai feels far. Not in distance, but in unfamiliarity. I've barely adjusted to one place, one rhythm, and now another shift waits ahead. I eat quietly, listening to their conversation.
They talk about relatives, arrangements, venues. Normal things. Family things. At some point, I realize something else too. No one asks me if I want to go. It's assumed.
And strangely, that doesn't hurt as much as it once would have. After dinner, we all get up. Maa reminds the servants about early tea arrangements. Suhana talks nonstop about shopping plans in Mumbai. Veeransh listens half-heartedly, already lost in his thoughts.
I excuse myself and walk back toward the room. As I close the door behind me, the silence wraps around me gently. I sit on the edge of the bed and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Mumbai. Another city. Another chapter.
I open the cupboard and pull out my suitcase. As I start folding clothes, my hands move slowly, carefully. Each item feels like a decision. Simple suits. Comfortable sarees. Medicines. Shawls.
I pause when I reach the mangalsutra, resting on the dresser. My fingers hover over it. A week ago, I wore it because I was told to. Now, I wear it because somewhere along the way, it became part of me.
I don't know what Mumbai will bring. I don't know how I'll fit into loud celebrations, unknown faces, curious eyes. I don't know how Veeransh will be there, with me, around his extended family. But one thing I know, sitting alone in that room, folding my clothes carefully.
I am not as alone as I used to be. And for now, that is enough. I'm halfway through folding my clothes when I hear the door open. I don't turn immediately, but I know it's him. I always know.
His presence carries a certain weight in the room, not heavy anymore, just noticeable.
Like the air shifts slightly when he enters.
I keep arranging my kurtis in the suitcase, then finally look up.
He's standing near the door, phone in one hand, coat still on, eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on me.
"Don't you have to pack?" I ask softly. He pauses, then shrugs. "There's some work. I'll do it later." I nod, then hesitate for a second before speaking again. "Should I pack your things?"
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
He looks at me properly now, one brow lifting slightly.
Then a faint, almost teasing smile touches his lips.
"You first pack your own things properly," he says.
"If something gets left behind," his eyes flick toward my suitcase, "then even Suhana's clothes won't fit you. "
He laughs. Not loudly. Not mockingly. Just lightly. I blink, surprised, then huff a little. "Fine. I just wanted to help. If you don't want it, then okay." There's no hurt in my voice. Just acceptance.
I zip my suitcase, then pick up my nightclothes and head toward the washroom. The door closes behind me with a soft click. I change slowly, the day finally catching up with my body. My muscles ache slightly, the kind of tiredness that comes after emotional movement rather than physical effort.
When I come out, adjusting the sleeves of my night suit, I stop short. Veeransh is packing. His suitcase is open on the bed. The cupboard doors are wide open. Clothes, my clothes, are spread messily on the mattress, some folded, some not.
I stare for a second, confused. "Why are you ruining my clothes?" I ask before I can stop myself. He doesn't look guilty. Instead, he straightens and exhales in mild frustration. "I can't find my white shirt. In the closet, all I can see are your clothes."
I look at the bed, then at the cupboard. "But I already packed everything." He gives me a look. "Still, so many clothes." I press my lips together, deciding not to argue. "Wait," I say instead. "Which white shirt?"
He thinks for a second. "Plain white. The office one." "Okay." I step closer. "Wait, I'll help." We both lean toward the bed, moving clothes aside, searching quietly. The room is filled with soft rustling fabric, the faint sound of the AC, and our shared silence.
My heart starts beating a little faster, not from fear, but from proximity. Our shoulders brush once. I freeze for half a second, then continue searching. He reaches toward a pile near the edge, fingers hooking into what he thinks is a shirt. He pulls it out in one quick motion.
White fabric unfolds in his hand. Too small. Too soft. My breath catches. It's my bra. For one frozen second, neither of us speaks.
He stares at it, realization dawning slowly, then sharply. His jaw tightens. His ears turn red. I feel heat rush to my face, all the way to my ears. Without thinking, I snatch it from his hand and shove it deep into the cupboard, behind folded sarees.
Neither of us says anything. The silence is deafening. Finally, he clears his throat. "Keep your clothes on your own side." I glance at him, still flustered. "They were on my side only."
He doesn't respond. Just turns back to the suitcase, pretending nothing happened. After a few more seconds, I find the white shirt tucked beneath a stack of sweaters. "Here it is," I say, handing it to him without looking up. "Hmm." He takes it, folds it properly, places it in the suitcase.
Packing finishes quietly after that. No more jokes. No more awkward moments. Just calm. He zips his suitcase shut and sets it aside. I sit on the bed, reaching for my phone to set the alarm.
"What time do we have to leave?" he asks. "Maa said we have to leave early," I reply. "Around 6 am." "Hmm." I place the phone back on the table and slide under the blanket, keeping to my side.
He switches off the main light, leaving only the soft bedside lamp on, then joins me after a minute. The bed dips slightly under his weight. I lie stiff for a few seconds out of habit, then slowly relax. He turns onto his side, facing the other direction.
There's space between us, not distance, just room. Comfortable room. As I close my eyes, one thought lingers in my mind, quiet and unexpected. These small moments, the teasing.
The awkwardness. The shared silence. They feel normal. And maybe, just maybe, that's what scares me the most. The alarm is set. Tomorrow will come whether I'm ready or not.
But tonight, wrapped in familiar sheets, listening to his steady breathing, I let myself sleep.