⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟗˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The alarm rang sharply at 3 a.m.
I woke up at the very first ring, irritation flashing on my face for barely a second before realization dawned on me.
A smile crept onto my lips.
Today.
I carefully slipped the blanket aside and sat up, making sure not to disturb Vidyut or Tara. Tara was curled up between us, her tiny fist clutching his T-shirt like she owned him. My heart softened at the sight.
Tiptoeing, I quietly slid out of the bed and started moving toward the washroom, already planning everything in my head—bath, getting ready, helping Maa with sargi—
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
Vidyut was awake, sitting up slightly, eyes squinting as he checked the time on his phone.
"It's three in the morning," he said, confusion clear in his voice. "Where are you going?"
"I... I have to get ready," I said softly.
He frowned, instantly alert. "Get ready? For what?"
"For sargi, naa," I replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His brows pulled together. "Ritvika... you're not keeping any fast."
"I know," I said quickly, stepping closer so I wouldn't wake Tara. "I know I'm not keeping a fast. But sargi toh kar sakti hoon, right? I want to do everything. Just... everything except the fast."
He looked at me for a long moment, processing my words.
"You woke up at three for that?" he asked, disbelief mixed with concern.
I nodded, a little shy now. "It's my first time celebrating Karwa Chauth. I just want to feel it... properly."
His expression softened despite himself.
"You don't need to prove anything," he said gently.
"I'm not proving," I whispered. "I just want to live it."
For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair.
"Fine," he said finally. "But slowly. No rushing. No stress."
My face instantly lit up. "Really?"
He pointed a finger at me. "And the moment you feel tired, you stop. Deal?"
"Deal," I nodded eagerly.
He lay back down beside Tara, pulling the blanket over her again. "Go," he said softly. "Before Maa wakes up and scolds me for keeping you in bed."
I smiled, warmth spreading through my chest.
"Happy Karwa Chauth," he added, his voice low but sincere.
My steps felt lighter as I turned toward the washroom, heart full, excitement bubbling quietly, knowing this day already felt special... even without a fast.
Maa and I were sitting at the dining table.
I was dressed in red , the suit Vidyut had brought yesterday without telling me. The fabric felt soft against my skin, the chooda resting lightly on my wrists. I looked down once, just to make sure this was real.
It felt... different. Peaceful.
— — —
Maa adjusted the plate in front of me carefully, her movements slow, thoughtful. She was just about to hand me the sargi—
When I heard footsteps.
I looked up instantly.
Vidyut.
Walking toward us like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Casual lower, plain T-shirt, hair still slightly damp clearly fresh from a bath. He stopped near the table and looked between Maa and me, brows knitting slightly.
For a second, I just stared.
Why was he up?
Why was he here?
"You... you're awake?" I asked, confused slipping into my voice before I could stop it.
He pulled a chair and sat down beside me, resting his elbow on the table casually.
"Yes," he said simply.
I blinked. "But... why?"
He looked at me, then at the plate, then back at me again.
"I also wanted to eat something," he said calmly. "And besides—"
His eyes narrowed slightly, lips twitching.
"What if you two are planning something?" he added. "I have to keep an eye."
Maa let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"You and your suspicion," she said, amused.
I felt my ears warm.
"There's nothing like that," I muttered, suddenly very aware of how close he was sitting.
Vidyut leaned back slightly, eyes moving over my red suit, the chooda, the plate in front of me. His gaze softened, just for a moment, before he masked it.
"Hm," he hummed. "Still. Can't trust you two."
I shot him a look. "You are impossible."
He smiled faint, knowing.
Maa finally handed me the sargi, her hand warm over mine.
"Eat slowly," she said gently. "No hurry."
I nodded.
As I took the first bite, I could feel Vidyut's presence beside me — quiet, watchful, protective in that silent way of his.
Not interfering.
Just... there.
And somehow, that made everything feel right.
It was evening.
And I was downstairs.
Fully ready. Shirt perfectly tucked in, watch on, hair set.
Why?
Because my wife was still getting ready upstairs.
And because my own mother had officially banned me from my own room.
Yes.
You heard that right.
Manisha Rajvansh and my very innocent-looking wife had taken over my room, pushed me out like an intruder, and very politely informed me that I was not allowed to enter under any circumstances.
"Go. Get ready in the guest room."
Their exact words.
Can you believe it?
Vidyut Rajvansh. Thrown out of his own room.
I did what any sensible man would do — I obeyed.
Got ready in the guest room. Came downstairs.
And now I was waiting.
Waiting for the past thirty minutes.
I glanced at my watch for the fifth time. Still nothing.
What exactly were they doing up there?
Makeup takes time, I get that. Jewelry takes time, fine. But this much?
I leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed, exhaling slowly. Somewhere between amusement and impatience.
From upstairs, I could hear muffled voices. Laughter. Maa saying something. Ritvika replying softly.
My lips twitched despite myself.
They had teamed up against me. Perfectly.
Mother and daughter-in-law. United front.
I shook my head, letting out a quiet chuckle.
Whatever they were doing...
It better be worth throwing me out of my own room.
Just then, Aarush walked in with Tara.
My kitten has formed a dangerously strong bond with him. These days, she wants Aarush all the time — sitting with him, sleeping with him, even holding his finger while walking. But the moment her little eyes landed on me...
She practically shouted it, her tiny arms flying open, demanding I pick her up right now.
How could I ever say no?
I immediately took her from Aarush, lifting her up without a second thought. Her face lit up instantly, that wide, toothy smile spreading like sunshine.
"Hmmm, kitten," I murmured, my voice softening on its own.
I lifted her up in the air once, then again — not too high, just enough to make her feel like she was flying. She laughed. Loudly. Freely. Giggles spilling out of her like she couldn't contain her happiness.
Her laughter echoed in the hall, filling every empty corner of the house.
And I... I just stood there laughing with her.
Nothing else mattered in that moment.
Not the waiting. Not being thrown out of my room. Not the mystery upstairs.
Just my princess in my arms, laughing like the world was the safest place to be.
And honestly?
As long as she smiled like that...
I could wait forever.
Just then, I heard soft shuffles.
My laughter stilled.
My eyes instinctively lifted towards the staircase.
And there she was.
Walking down the stairs... slowly... carefully... like she wasn't just descending steps but walking straight into my heart.
My wife.
My Ritvi.
My breath caught in my throat.
She was draped in that maroon saree — the one.
The fabric hugged her frame perfectly, flowing around her like it was made only for her.
Her hair was left open, cascading freely over her shoulders, framing her face in the most effortless way.
Light makeup. Barely there. Yet enough to make her eyes glow and her lips look softer than they already were.
She looked... unreal.
Beautiful wasn't enough.
Stunning wasn't enough.
My heart started pounding so loudly that for a second I wondered if everyone could hear it. Every step she took towards the bottom of the stairs made my chest tighten, my grip on Tara instinctively firming — not out of fear, but out of grounding myself.
Like I needed to remind myself that this was real.
That she was real.
One word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
I didn't even realize I had spoken aloud.
I was too busy looking at her.
Even Tara, resting comfortably in my arms, seemed to sense something special. She stopped fidgeting, her tiny head tilting up as she looked at her mumma with wide, curious eyes — almost admiring her in her own innocent way.
I smiled softly, my gaze never leaving Ritvi.
In that moment, standing there with my daughter in my arms and my wife walking towards me like this...
I knew.
This was it.
For a good five seconds... I forgot how to breathe.
Not exaggerating.
Actual system shutdown.
My brain went completely blank except for one very important thought — how is she my wife?
I was still standing there, frozen, when she finally reached the last step. She looked at me, really looked at me, and the moment her eyes met mine... she smiled.
That soft, shy, almost unsure smile.
The kind that makes a grown man forget his own name.
Tara wriggled in my arms, her tiny fingers clenching my shirt as she stared at her mumma with complete fascination. She made a small sound — not words, just pure baby approval — and I swear, it snapped me out of my trance.
Barely.
I cleared my throat, trying to act normal. Trying and failing.
"You... look," I started, then stopped because no sentence felt enough.
Ritvi tilted her head slightly. "Look... what?"
Dangerous question.
I took a step forward, lowering my voice like it was a secret meant only for her. "Like I should file a complaint against you."
Her brows furrowed. "Why?"
Her eyes widened for exactly half a second before she realized I was teasing her. The blush that spread across her cheeks was slow, deep, and absolutely criminal.
Aarush, who had been watching all of this far too closely, snorted from behind. "Brother, control yourself. You are embarrassing the family line."
I shot him a look. He raised both hands and retreated instantly.
Ritvi let out a small laugh — soft, almost breathless — and that sound alone did something dangerous to my heart.
I adjusted Tara on my hip and leaned slightly toward Ritvi. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
She shook her head, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her saree.
"You made it impossible for me to look anywhere else," I said quietly.
Her lashes fluttered. She looked down. Then, very bravely, she looked back up at me.
Her blush deepened. Mission accomplished.
Tara suddenly leaned forward in my arms, tiny hands reaching out toward her mumma's saree. She grabbed the fabric with surprising strength and let out a happy little sound, as if claiming her.
Ritvi laughed — a real laugh this time — and stepped closer. "See? Even she agrees."
I bent my head slightly so Tara could rest against my shoulder again. "She has excellent taste."
Ritvi rolled her eyes, but the smile never left her face.
Maa appeared from the hallway just then, pausing mid-step when she saw us. Her eyes softened instantly, the kind of look only a mother gets when she sees something she silently prayed for.
She didn't interrupt. Just watched. Smiled. Walked away.
Ritvi noticed none of it.
She was too busy smoothing her hair nervously, glancing down at herself like she was suddenly unsure. "Is... is it okay?" she asked. "I mean... everything?"
I didn't answer with words.
I took one step closer, close enough that she could hear my heartbeat if she tried. Close enough that my presence made her still.
"More than okay," I said quietly. "You look like you belong exactly where you are."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
Aarush chose that exact moment to ruin the atmosphere.
"So are we leaving today or should I go make popcorn and watch you two stare at each other?"
I shot him a warning look. Ritvi burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking.
I sighed dramatically. "You survive today because I'm in a good mood."
He grinned. "Noted."
I looked back at Ritvi, my tone softening again without effort. "Ready?"
She nodded. Then hesitated. "Vidyut?"
"Yes?"
She reached out, gently adjusting the collar of my shirt. Just that. Nothing more.
But the way her fingers brushed my skin... yeah. Dangerous.
"Thank you," she said.
I leaned in slightly, my voice low, meant only for her. "Always."
Tara yawned loudly, completely unimpressed by romance.
We started to leave for Rajvansh Mansion soon after.
Maa said some rituals had to be done there, rituals that could not be skipped, especially because it was Ritvi's first Karwa Chauth. Apparently, traditions cared a lot about firsts. I didn't argue with that part. I argued with the location.
I was not ready to step into that house again. Not today. Not with everything finally feeling calm.
But then Ritvi looked at me.
Those eyes.
Soft. Hopeful. A little nervous. A little excited.
Yeah. Resistance was useless.
I agreed, but with conditions. We would go, complete the rituals, and leave immediately after the puja. No extended stays. No unnecessary interactions. Maa nodded, Ritvi smiled like she had just won a silent battle, and that was that.
The drive was quiet.
Ritvi sat beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, bangles clinking softly every time the car turned. She kept glancing outside the window, then at Tara, then at me, like her heart was running faster than the car itself.
I noticed everything.
"You are nervous," I said calmly.
She shook her head too quickly. "No. Just... excited."
I hummed. Same thing, different name.
Tara shifted in her seat, half asleep, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of Ritvi's saree as if afraid it might disappear. Ritvi immediately leaned closer to her, resting her palm on Tara's head instinctively.
That small gesture did something to me.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and reminded myself to breathe.
As the gates of Rajvansh Mansion came into view, Ritvi's shoulders stiffened slightly. She noticed it herself and inhaled slowly, straightening her back.
I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
She looked at me.
"Just rituals," I said quietly. "Nothing else. I am right here."
Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile. She nodded.
The car stopped. Guards opened the doors. Lights glowed warmly from inside the mansion, the place already alive with preparations.
I stepped out first, then turned back toward her, offering my hand.
She placed hers in mine without hesitation.
One week later, the house had settled into a strange kind of calm.
Ritvika's health was improving day by day. The weakness was still there, but her eyes had started carrying that spark again. Laughter returned in small moments. Normalcy, slowly, carefully, was making its way back into her life.
And that was exactly when she asked for something no one was prepared for.
It was sudden.
They were in the living room. Tara was busy with her crayons on the floor, completely absorbed in drawing circles that meant the world to her. Vidyut was going through some files on his tablet, half listening to Ritvika as she talked about random things.
Out of nowhere, she spoke, her voice unusually soft.
"Vidyut... can I ask you something?"
He looked up immediately. "What is it?"
She hesitated. Her fingers twisted together, a habit she had picked up whenever she was unsure.
The room stilled.
Vidyut's expression changed instantly. Not anger. Not shock. Just a sharp, immediate refusal that came from instinct.
The single word was firm, final.
Ritvika blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "I just thought—"
"No," he repeated, more controlled this time. "That is not happening."
She went quiet for a few seconds, staring at the floor. Vidyut assumed the matter was closed.
He was wrong.
"What if I just meet her once?" she asked again, carefully, as if testing fragile ground. "Only once. I want to see how she is."
Vidyut placed the tablet aside, his jaw tightening. "Ritvika, we are not discussing this."
"But why?" she asked, lifting her head now. "She is in the hospital. She is hurt. I just want to check on her."
"You do not need to," he replied. "Others are already there."
That was when her tone changed.
"But I want to," she said, a little more firmly.
Vidyut exhaled slowly. "Ritvika, listen to me. You are not ready for that environment. You do not need unnecessary stress."
"I am fine now," she insisted. "The doctor also said I can go out for short visits."
"That does not include this," he said sharply.
Her brows furrowed. "You are not even letting me finish."
Silence hung between them.
Then Ritvika crossed her arms.
"You always do this," she said, her voice quiet but stubborn. "You decide what I should feel. What I should see. What I should avoid."
"That is because I know better," he said without thinking.
She stood up slowly, facing him fully now.
"No," she said. "You think you know better."
Vidyut's eyes narrowed. "Ritvika—"
"I am not a child," she cut in. "You cannot keep protecting me by locking me away from everything that is uncomfortable."
"This is not discomfort," he said. "This is danger."
She shook her head. "You are scared. That is the truth."
That hit somewhere deep.
She took a step closer. "And what about me? Do you think I am not scared? I have been in a coma for months, Vidyut. I woke up to a life that had moved on without me. I am trying to understand everything. I need closure."
He clenched his fists. "Closure does not come from reopening wounds."
"But hiding from them will not heal them either," she replied.
Her voice softened, but her resolve did not.
"Please," she said. "Just once. I promise I will not push myself. I will not talk about anything painful. I just want to see her."
Vidyut looked away, struggling.
She could see it. The conflict. The fear.
That only made her more determined.
"I will not stop asking," she said quietly. "You know that."
He looked back at her, stunned.
She had never said that before.
Ritvika rarely insisted on anything. She adjusted. She compromised. She endured.
But this time, she was standing her ground.
Tara suddenly looked up from the floor, sensing the tension. Ritvika immediately softened, crouching down to pull her into her arms.
Vidyut watched that scene, his heart twisting painfully.
He knew this was not just stubbornness.
This was something Ritvika needed.
And that terrified him more than anything else.
Vidyut finally spoke again, his patience thinning.
"Why do you want to meet her?" he asked. "You don't have any relation with her. You don't even know her in person."
Ritvika looked at him, calm but unwavering.
"Exactly naa," she replied softly. "That's why I want to meet her. I want to see her."
Vidyut frowned, clearly unable to understand her logic. "There is no need for this," he said. "And anyway, she is not in a condition to talk to anyone. She only talks to Divya. No one else. Okay?"
This time, his voice was straight. Cold. Final.
As he stood up from his place, anger rising faster than he realised, his tone grew louder.
The words echoed in the room.
The moment they left his mouth, he knew he had crossed a line.
Ritvika flinched.
Her eyes filled instantly, not with anger, but with hurt. The kind that sits silently in the chest and refuses to leave. She did not argue. She did not raise her voice.
She simply nodded once.
"Okay," she whispered.
Without looking back, she turned and walked towards their room. Her steps were slow, controlled, but every step felt heavy. As soon as the door closed behind her, the quiet she had maintained broke.
Vidyut stood there, frozen.
He shouted.
At her.
And the silence she left behind felt far worse than any argument could have.
The moment the door shut, reality hit Vidyut like a slap.
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening—not in anger this time, but guilt. He had raised his voice. He had scared her. And the worst part? She hadn't fought back. She hadn't even tried to explain herself.
That silence... it wasn't defiance.
It was hurt.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath and turned towards their room.
He knocked once. No response.
"Ritvi?" he called softly.
Still nothing.
He opened the door slowly.
Ritvika was sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the floor. Her eyes were red, lashes wet. She wiped her cheeks quickly the moment she sensed his presence, turning her face away.
Vidyut's chest tightened.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, careful. "I didn't mean to shout."
She didn't reply.
He moved closer, crouching in front of her. "Look at me," he asked gently.
Ritvika shook her head.
"Ritvi..." he sighed. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have talked to you like that."
Still nothing.
She stood up suddenly, trying to walk past him, but Vidyut caught her wrist—not tight, just enough to stop her.
"Please," he said. "Don't do this."
She pulled her hand back, finally looking at him. Her eyes were glassy, hurt shining clearly in them.
"You always decide," she said quietly. "You don't even listen first."
The words weren't loud. They were worse.
Vidyut swallowed hard. "I listen," he said. "I just... I get scared."
"Scared of what?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He had no answer.
She turned away again, sitting back on the bed, arms crossed—putting up a wall, small but firm.
Minutes passed. Vidyut tried again—offering water, sitting beside her, apologising once more—but she stayed distant. Polite. Cold.
And that scared him more than her tears ever could.
Finally, he exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said.
Ritvika glanced at him, confused.
"You can meet Siya," he continued. "I'll take you."
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"What?" she whispered.
"You heard me," he said, softer now. "You can meet her."
For a second, she just stared at him, unsure if she had imagined it.
Then—like magic—the walls cracked.
Her eyes widened, the hurt melting into disbelief, then hope. A small smile appeared... hesitant, fragile, but real.
"Sach?" she asked.
(Really?)
Vidyut nodded. "Sach."
She leaned forward and hugged him suddenly, arms wrapping around his chest tightly, as if afraid he'd take it back.
And just like that, the room felt warm again.
Vidyut closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head, a faint smile touching his lips.
One "okay."
And everything changed.
--- --- -- --- ---
next update will be on Thursday (agar 500 comments ho jaate hai toh) otherwise on Saturady
He leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss to her temple this time.
"Sleep, my shy wife," he whispered fondly. "You'll need the energy."
She peeked at him, horrified. "For what?"
His eyes sparkled.