⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟖˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Two days later.
One day before Karwa Chauth.
Ritvika was completely buried under the blanket, curled up like she wanted to disappear from the world altogether. Only a corner of the bedsheet rose and fell with her breathing.
First, he refused the fast.
Then, he promised shopping.
And now—he cancelled that too.
Her chest felt tight, not because of weakness this time, but because of disappointment.
The door opened softly.
Vidyut walked in, his eyes immediately going to the bed. One look was enough to tell him—this was not a normal sulk. This was full-scale Ritvika mode on.
He walked closer. "Ritvika."
No answer.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're awake."
Still nothing.
He reached out and pulled the blanket down just a little. Her face was turned away from him, lips pressed together, eyes burning with unshed tears.
"So shopping is cancelled too," she said flatly, not looking at him.
He exhaled slowly. "You're not well enough."
She laughed once, bitterly. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Then why promise it?" she snapped, finally turning toward him. "Why tell me we'll go if you already decided I won't?"
"I didn't decide it lightly."
"But you still decided it for me," she shot back.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Ritvika, it's crowded. It's hectic. You get tired easily."
"I didn't ask to run a marathon," she said sharply. "I asked to buy bangles."
"You fainted."
"And I stood up again," she replied instantly. "You act like I'm made of glass."
His jaw tightened. "I act like I can't afford to lose you."
That should have softened her.
It didn't.
She pulled the blanket closer. "Everyone else gets to celebrate. Everyone else gets to do things. I just sit at home and get told what I can and cannot do."
"That's not—"
"You said no to the fast," she cut him off. "I accepted. You said shopping—we'll go. I believed you. Now this too is gone."
He stood up. "I'm not taking risks with your health."
"And I'm tired of being treated like a problem," she said quietly.
The words landed heavier than shouting.
Silence stretched between them.
He spoke again, calmer. "You can rest. Maa and chachi will handle everything."
"That's exactly the point," she replied. "I don't want everything handled for me."
She turned her back to him and pulled the blanket over her head completely.
"I don't want to talk."
He stood there for a long moment, watching the small rise and fall of the blanket.
Then—
A faint sound.
Almost inaudible.
A broken breath.
A sniff.
His body stiffened.
He hadn't noticed before, but now he heard it clearly—the quiet, restrained sniffing she was trying so hard to hide.
He closed his eyes, guilt settling heavy in his chest.
She wasn't just sulking anymore.
She was hurt.
It was no longer playful sulking.
It was serious now.
Vidyut stepped closer to the bed and reached for the blanket, trying to pull it down gently. Ritvika clutched it tighter, her fingers digging into the fabric like it was the only thing holding her together.
"Go from here," she said hoarsely from beneath it.
He tried again, softer. "Ritvi."
She shook her head, gripping it even harder. "I said go."
This time, he didn't retreat.
With a careful but firm tug, he pulled the blanket away.
Her face came into view—and his chest clenched instantly.
Her eyes were red. Her nose pink. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, and her lips trembled despite her effort to keep them pressed tight.
Vidyut exhaled slowly, pain flickering across his face. "Ritvii..."
She immediately turned her face away from him.
"Ritvii, listen to me."
"No," she snapped, voice cracking. "You listen."
She sniffed hard, wiping her cheek angrily. "You promised shopping. You promised. And then you declined."
"Ritvi, it's because—"
"Yes, yes, I know," she cut him off sharply, tears spilling again. "To protect me. I'm weak. I'm healing. I shouldn't get tired. Every time it's the same thing."
Her voice rose with hurt. "I also want to celebrate Karwa Chauth. Maa and chachi went shopping without me. You sent them. Why?"
He didn't interrupt.
He just sat there, listening.
"It's my first Karwa Chauth," she continued, her voice breaking openly now. "You didn't even let me keep the fast. And now this too."
She sniffed again, shoulders shaking. "Everyone will get ready beautifully. Everyone. But not me."
She looked at him then, eyes glassy and accusing. "Maa said she'll bring a maroon saree. We were supposed to twin."
Her lips trembled. "But you spoiled everything."
A small sob escaped her. "Now I'll have to wear old clothes."
The room went silent.
Vidyut stood up slowly.
Ritvika looked at him through her tears, misunderstanding instantly forming. "See? You don't even—"
"Okay," he said suddenly.
She froze.
"What?" she asked, blinking.
"Go," he said calmly. "Get ready. Fast."
Her brows furrowed. "No, I won't."
He looked at her face properly now, eyes soft but amused despite the ache. "At least wash your face. You're looking like a joker—completely red."
She gaped at him. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged casually. "If you don't wash your face, you'll go shopping like this."
Her mouth opened, then closed. "Shopping?"
He tilted his head, eyes warm. "Well, I don't mind. I like my wife the way she is."
Her breath hitched.
Before she could process anything, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms effortlessly.
"Vidyut!" she gasped, instinctively gripping his shirt.
He smiled faintly. "Stop overthinking. Just trust me."
Vidyut had just taken two steps forward with her in his arms when she suddenly stiffened.
"Wait—wait—wait."
He stopped.
Before she could say anything else, he deliberately lowered her just enough so her feet brushed the floor—but not fully. She had to stand on her toes, her hands still clutching his shoulders.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, searching his face.
"Are we... really going shopping?" she asked, her voice quiet but trembling with excitement she couldn't hide.
Vidyut nodded.
That was all it took.
Her face lit up instantly, eyes sparkling, lips curving into the brightest smile he had seen in days. She let out a small, breathless squeal before he could even react.
"Oh my God."
She slipped out of his hold and almost ran toward the bathroom, stopping midway only to turn back.
"Wait for me. Two minutes," she said hurriedly, already backing away. "I'm coming. Don't go, okay?"
Before he could reply, she disappeared inside, the door closing with hurried enthusiasm.
Vidyut stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Watching the door.
And smiling—softly, helplessly—because her happiness mattered more than anything else.
After five minutes, the bathroom door opened.
Ritvika stepped out, dressed in a simple anarkali. Her hair was still slightly damp, face fresh, eyes bright with excitement. She took a few quick steps toward Vidyut—almost skipping—before suddenly slowing down.
Mid-step, her excitement faltered.
Her pace changed. She walked toward him more carefully now, her smile fading into a thoughtful, hesitant look.
Vidyut noticed it immediately.
"What happened?" he asked, watching her closely.
Ritvika blinked, as if pulled out of her thoughts.
"Maa and chachi already went for shopping," she said softly. "They'll come back soon... so now—" her voice dropped a little, unsure, "with whom will I go?"
Vidyut sighed lightly, stepping closer.
Ritvika froze.
She looked up at him, eyes widening in pure surprise.
"You?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation.
A fond smile slowly formed on Ritvika's face. Soft, warm, almost shy.
She nodded, her excitement returning in quiet waves.
Together, they moved downstairs. As they reached the living area, Vidyut called Aarush. He was with Tara—these past two days had built a surprisingly strong bond between them.
Aarush carefully handed Tara to Vidyut. The little girl wrapped her arms around him sleepily, already used to his presence.
With Ritvika by his side and Tara in his arms, Vidyut stepped outside.
They went out together.
They stepped into the store, and the moment Ritvika saw the rows of fabrics, her pace slowed. Her eyes widened, curiosity sparkling openly on her face. She moved closer to one rack, fingers brushing over the material, careful but fascinated.
Vidyut didn't stop her.
He simply stayed beside her.
"Take your time," he said quietly, glancing around once before settling his gaze back on her. "No rush."
She smiled at that and nodded, already feeling oddly safe.
A salesman approached, greeting them politely. "Madam, would you like to see the new collection?"
Ritvika looked up at Vidyut instinctively, as if seeking permission. He noticed and immediately shook his head.
"You don't need to ask me," he said gently. "Look at whatever you like."
That made her smile widen.
She turned back to the salesman. "Yes... you can show."
The man laid out a few options. Ritvika leaned forward slightly to see better, her attention fully on the fabric. Vidyut watched quietly, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed — the kind of calm that came from knowing the place, the people, everything around him bent easily to his presence.
The salesman spoke a little too enthusiastically, leaning closer than necessary while explaining details.
Vidyut didn't interrupt.
He simply took one step forward.
Not aggressive. Not rude.
Just present.
The salesman immediately straightened, nodding. "Yes, sir. Sorry."
Ritvika glanced at Vidyut, surprised — then amused.
"I can handle people," she whispered.
"I know," he replied, just as quietly. "I handle spaces."
She bit back a smile.
She picked up a maroon outfit, holding it against herself, turning toward the mirror. Her excitement was unmistakable, though she tried to contain it.
Vidyut tilted his head slightly. "That color suits you."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
He nodded once. "You look comfortable in it. That matters."
She looked at herself again, softer this time, then nodded. "I like it too."
"Then pack this," Vidyut said to the staff, pulling out his card effortlessly.
Ritvika protested immediately. "Hey— I didn't say I'm done looking."
"You're not," he said. "This is just one thing. Keep looking."
That stopped her.
"You're... dangerous," she muttered.
A corner of his lips lifted. "Financially? Yes."
She laughed, genuinely, the sound light and free.
At the jewelry section, Ritvika lifted a simple set, trying it on carefully.
"It's nice," she murmured.
"It is," Vidyut agreed. "Elegant."
She glanced at him sideways. "You sound like you know jewelry."
"I know what looks right on you," he corrected.
Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus.
When they finally walked out, hands full of bags, Ritvika exhaled happily.
"This was... nice," she said. "I didn't feel tired at all."
Vidyut looked at her, satisfied. "That was the plan."
She smiled, walking a little closer to him without realizing it — and this time, he didn't step away.
Ritvika adjusted the bags in her hands and, thinking they were done, turned toward the car parked across the street.
"Where?" Vidyut's voice stopped her.
She turned back, slightly confused. "Car..." she murmured, pointing toward it.
The change in him was instant.
He shifted Tara more securely in his arms and stepped closer, eyes scanning her face carefully. "Are you tired? Should I call the doctor? Are you feeling dizzy?"
Ritvika blinked, startled. "No—no, I'm fine. What happened?"
"Then why were you heading to the car?" he asked, still studying her like she might disappear if he blinked.
She frowned slightly. "Our shopping is done, right?"
His brows lifted slowly. "Done?"
She nodded. "Yes. We bought the dress."
Vidyut let out a small breath, almost a laugh. "Ritvika... you bought one dress."
She looked at him, then at the bags, then back at him. "That's enough."
"No, it's not."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
Her lips parted slightly. "All that is also... shopping?"
"Yes," he replied calmly. "And you are not skipping it."
She stared at him for a second, then softly laughed. "You're very serious about this."
"I am," he said simply. "It's your first time."
Something warm settled in her chest.
She took a hesitant step back toward the mall. "But what if I don't like anything?"
"Then we don't buy," he said. "But you will look."
She smiled, small and shy. "Okay."
As they walked, she glanced at Tara, who was half-asleep in his arms. "She's heavy. I can take her."
Vidyut didn't even look down. "No."
"Vidyut—"
"She's fine," he said. "And so are you."
Ritvika sighed, amused. "You don't listen."
"I listen," he corrected. "I just decide."
She shook her head, smiling to herself as they entered the next store.
And somewhere between bangles and sandals, she realized—
She wasn't being rushed.
She wasn't being stopped.
She was simply... being taken care of.
They stopped in front of a small bangle shop tucked between two clothing stores. It wasn't fancy. No glass walls, no spotlight displays. Just rows and rows of bangles catching the sunlight, quietly shining in their own way.
Vidyut hadn't planned to stop.
But he had seen it.
The way Ritvika's steps slowed.
The way her eyes lingered.
That sudden, unmistakable sparkle as she scanned the shop.
That was enough.
Tara was fast asleep in his arms, her head resting against his chest, tired from school and all the excitement of the day. Vidyut adjusted her gently and stepped closer as Ritvika moved toward the counter, her attention already completely captured.
She opened the bag she was carrying and carefully took out the saree.
"Bhaiya, I want bangles for this saree," she said, holding up the fabric.
The shopkeeper nodded immediately, examining the color. "For this, madam, maroon and gold will suit best. Mostly golden bangles with maroon accents."
Ritvika listened with full concentration, like this was the most important decision of her life. She nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
"Please show me the varieties," she added after a moment. "And also tell me the prices."
The shopkeeper smiled and began pulling out trays one by one.
Vidyut stood a little behind her, watching quietly.
She leaned forward slightly, eyes moving from one set to another, her fingers hovering just above the bangles without touching them yet. Her face was calm, focused, almost reverent. Like this wasn't just shopping—it meant something.
And while she looked at bangles as if her life depended on choosing the right ones, Vidyut looked at her as if his life depended on her being happy.
She picked up one set, held it against the saree, then frowned slightly. "Too much gold," she murmured to herself.
Another set. "No... this is too loud."
She glanced at him once, instinctively, then looked back at the bangles again.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't rush her.
Didn't interrupt.
He just stood there, Tara sleeping peacefully in his arms, silently memorizing this version of her—the one who found joy in small things, who looked at colors and glass with wonder, who didn't even realize how beautiful she looked right now.
The shopkeeper placed another tray in front of her.
Her eyes lit up.
"These," she said softly, almost to herself.
And Vidyut knew—
This shop wasn't luxury.
But this moment was priceless.
Ritvika's fingers hovered over the tray one last time.
She liked them.
She liked too many of them.
But when the shopkeeper calmly mentioned the prices, something inside her shifted. The excitement dimmed just a little, replaced by a familiar heaviness settling in her chest.
She slowly placed the bangles back on the tray, one by one, careful... almost reluctant.
Her eyes flicked to the saree in her bag. She had already spent on the outfit. Too much, maybe. And now bangles, makeup, sandals—everything added up too fast in her head.
Her thoughts tangled.
This is enough. I shouldn't spend more. I don't need all this.
She took a small step back from the counter.
"I... I don't like them much," she said quietly.
But her gaze betrayed her.
It lingered.
Just for a second longer than necessary.
Vidyut noticed.
He did.
He looked from her face to the tray of bangles, then back at her again. The way her shoulders had stiffened. The way her fingers curled into her palms as if stopping herself from reaching out again.
She wasn't uninterested.
She was worried.
The shopkeeper hesitated, unsure whether to pack the bangles back or show more. Ritvika avoided his eyes now, pretending to adjust the bag on her arm.
Vidyut shifted Tara slightly, making sure she was comfortable, and stepped forward—just enough to close the small distance between him and Ritvika.
He didn't call her out.
Didn't question her words.
He simply looked at the bangles again... and then at her.
And Ritvika felt it.
That quiet attention.
That unspoken understanding.
Her lips parted as if to say something more—but nothing came out.
She just stood there, caught between what she wanted and what she thought she should want.
And Vidyut stayed right there beside her, steady as ever.
Vidyut's voice remained calm, almost casual.
"Pack all the maroon and golden bangles you have," he told the shopkeeper.
Ritvika's head snapped toward him.
"I don't like... them," she said quickly, the words tumbling out as she lightly tugged at his sleeve.
But her eyes betrayed her again.
They flicked to the bangles.
Every single set.
Vidyut looked at her then—not amused, not annoyed—just steady. He adjusted Tara a little in his arms, making sure she was comfortable, before replying in the same composed tone.
"I know."
That single word made her pause.
The shopkeeper, sensing the unspoken tension, began carefully gathering the bangles, placing them one by one into soft cloth wrappers.
Ritvika swallowed.
"That's too many," she added, softer now. "And... expensive."
Vidyut finally turned fully toward her. He didn't raise his voice, didn't argue. He simply leaned in slightly, enough that only she could hear him.
"You didn't say you don't like them," he said quietly. "You said you shouldn't."
Her breath hitched.
Before she could respond, he straightened and looked back at the shopkeeper.
"Pack them properly," he added.
Ritvika shook her head, conflicted. "Vidyut, please. I already bought the saree. This is enough."
He met her eyes again, his gaze gentle but unyielding.
"You missed a lot," he said calmly. "You don't need to calculate everything today."
Her fingers clenched around the strap of her bag.
"But—"
He cut her off, not sharply, just firmly.
"Today, you choose what makes you smile. I'll handle the rest."
The shopkeeper finished packing and handed the bundles over. Vidyut paid without another word.
Ritvika stood frozen, watching him, emotions swirling—gratitude, guilt, disbelief, and something warm she didn't quite know how to name.
As they turned to leave, Vidyut handed one small packet to her.
"These are for today," he said. "The rest are for the days you'll feel like you shouldn't buy anything."
She looked at the packet. Then at him.
And this time, she didn't say she didn't like them.
She just held them close to her chest, blinking fast, afraid her eyes might give her away again.
By the time they finally stepped out of the market, the evening light had softened, and Ritvika's hands were full.
Or at least—that's what she thought.
She was too busy adjusting the small bag of bangles, occasionally glancing at Tara asleep against Vidyut's shoulder, to notice how Vidyut paused again and again—quietly signaling shopkeepers, paying swiftly, collecting neatly packed bags that never once passed through her hands.
The sandals she had admired and then politely declined.
The simple makeup kit she had checked and placed back.
The matching clutch she had looked at twice and then walked away from.
Each time, Vidyut waited until she turned ahead, until her attention drifted elsewhere, before picking them up and handing them to the security staff walking a few steps behind.
Ritvika chatted absentmindedly as they walked, pointing out small things, laughing softly at Tara's sleepy murmurs, completely unaware that her "leftover list" was quietly disappearing.
Only when they reached the car did she finally stop.
"Why is the boot open?" she asked, confused.
Before Vidyut could answer, the guard placed several shopping bags inside, one after another.
Ritvika stared.
"Wait... when did we buy all this?"
Vidyut settled Tara carefully into her seat, buckling her in with practiced ease. Only then did he turn toward Ritvika.
"On time," he said simply.
She frowned. "No, seriously. I don't remember buying half of these."
He closed the car door and leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice.
"That's because you didn't."
Her eyes widened.
"Vidyut!"
He raised a hand, stopping her before she could start.
"You liked them," he said calmly. "You just didn't allow yourself to want them."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say.
He guided her toward the passenger seat. "Get in. You're standing too long."
She obeyed, still processing, and once they were on the road, she turned to look at him.
"You're impossible," she muttered, not angry—just overwhelmed.
Vidyut's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"And you," he replied, eyes still on the road, "are very easy to read."
Ritvika looked out the window, hugging her bag to herself, a small, shy smile forming as the city lights blurred past.
By the time they reached home, her earlier sulk, her hesitation, her worries—all of it felt distant.
What remained was a quiet warmth.
And the certainty that without her even realizing it, Vidyut had made sure she lacked nothing.
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