12
It had been almost three weeks since the wedding.
Three quiet, orderly, carefully distant weeks.
Dhruv and Vaani had settled into a routine — one that was polite, functional, and at times, so silent it almost echoed.
There were no arguments. No fights. But there weren't exactly conversations either.
He worked. She worked. He cooked, sometimes. She cleaned, sometimes. He slept early. She stayed up late finishing designs. He asked if she needed anything when he left for work. She said no, thank you. They had dinner at the same table. They even remembered to say goodnight.
But nothing beyond that.
And Vaani, despite being told — despite knowing what she was walking into — was beginning to feel it. The weight of the silence. The lack of warmth.
This is what he told me, she reminded herself. He didn't hide it. He didn't make promises he couldn't keep. This... was part of the deal.
She wasn't supposed to expect more.
Which is exactly why she couldn't say anything about it.
Because he'd already told her: He's busy. He has responsibilities. He's not looking for anything beyond what they agreed on.
So instead, Vaani did what she always did.
She got up quietly. Showered. Wore a pale green kurta with white jeans. Put on the small mangalsutra. Applied her kajal. Lip gloss. Perfume.
She didn't expect to see him in the hall.
He was usually long gone by the time she came out — either out for a run or already at the office. But today, as she stepped into the soft-lit living space, she paused.
He was there.
Seated on the dining table, reading something on his iPad, a steaming mug of chai beside him. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, and he looked up when he heard her footsteps.
There was the smallest flicker of something — surprise, maybe — before he gave her a slight nod.
She nodded back. "Good morning."
"Morning," he said.
No more words.
Vaani walked to the kitchen, poured herself some chai, and sat down on the opposite end of the table. The only sound was the occasional clink of her spoon against the mug, and the faint hum of the air conditioner.
He didn't ask why she was late today. She didn't ask why he hadn't left early.
They sat like that — not quite together, not quite apart — drinking their tea.
Then her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.
Ria: Come grab a coffee before your meeting? Simran and Naina are here too.
A soft smile escaped her lips — her first genuine smile of the morning. She quickly typed back a yes, then stood up to grab her bag.
As she moved toward the door, she felt his eyes on her. She turned slightly, just as he asked, "All okay?"
She paused.
"Yes," she said with a soft smile. "All good."
And then she left.
Dhruv stayed behind, staring at the door after it closed.
Something felt... off. Or maybe not off, but distant. More than usual.
She hadn't looked upset. But she hadn't looked fine either.
And that smile — the one that flashed when she read her message — he'd noticed it. It had looked so much more alive than the expression she wore at home.
For a brief second, he wondered — Had he said something wrong? Missed something?
But then again, nothing had been said.
So he let it be.
He picked up his iPad again and sipped the last of his chai, now lukewarm.
The morning resumed its silence.
But this time, it stayed with him longer than usual.
The café was tucked between two office towers in the quieter part of the district — a sleek, modern space with light wood interiors, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows that flooded it with golden sunlight.
Vaani spotted them at the corner table — Ria, Naina and Simran, waving animatedly the moment they saw her walk in.
"There she is! Our Mrs. Deshmukh," Ria beamed as Vaani approached.
Vaani laughed, cheeks flushing a little as she hugged both of them. "You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"
"Never," Simran grinned. "We're milking this newlywed era for as long as we can."
Vaani sat down, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Her bag was still slung on her shoulder, her coffee barely ordered, and already Naina leaned forward with a cheeky grin.
"Okay, okay, now spill. How's married life? What's it like living with the Dhruv Deshmukh?"
Vaani hesitated — just a beat too long.
Her eyes darted down to her fingers curled around the menu. The truth — the quiet, strange, in-between space she was living in — didn't really have a name. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't anything like what people imagined, either. It was polite. Routine. Cordial. Controlled.
But not unhappy.
And yet... not full either.
She cleared her throat gently and offered a small smile. "It's... alright. We're getting better. Settling in slowly."
Ria tilted her head. "Yeah?"
Vaani nodded, this time with a little more conviction. "Yeah. He's busy most days, and I've just started settling into my work, so it's been a lot to juggle. But it's peaceful."
Peaceful. A word that felt safe. Acceptable.
Simran smiled. "Honestly, that's not a bad thing. It's way better than drama. You both are mature, it'll click in time."
"Yeah," Vaani murmured, grateful no one was pressing harder. She didn't want to lie. But she wasn't ready to open up either.
She was about to change the subject when Ria cleared her throat — suspiciously — and clasped her hands on the table.
"Okay so," she said, eyes gleaming, "while we're all on the topic of weddings..."
Vaani narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"
Simran broke into laughter. "Tell them!"
Ria couldn't hold it anymore. She shrieked. "I'M GETTING MARRIED!"
The café wasn't packed, but the few people around definitely turned toward their table when the three of them burst into shouts.
"What?!" Vaani and Naina half-yelled, completely thrown. "Are you serious?!"
Ria was practically vibrating. "Aayush proposed last night. I was not expecting it. Like, not at all. I thought we were just going out for dinner to celebrate my promotion — and then he brought out the ring at dessert and I just..."
She made a squealing noise that ended in half-laughter, half-tears.
Simran fanned her face dramatically. "I was dying keeping it from you this morning. You should've seen my messages to her at 2am."
Ria pulled out her phone and showed them both the photo — a classic silver band with a subtle solitaire diamond, her nails freshly done, his hand holding hers. Her eyes were red from crying, but the joy in the photo was impossible to ignore.
Vaani stared at it and smiled wide. "He did so good, Ria. The ring is beautiful."
"Right? And you know how he is — he was shaking. Literally shaking while proposing," Ria laughed. "But I didn't even let him finish the sentence. I just said yes."
They all laughed again, and Simran ordered celebratory cappuccinos with extra whipped cream.
For the next twenty minutes, the conversation was a giddy storm of venue plans, bridal colors, parents' reactions, and speculation about the guest list. Ria had barely told anyone yet — Vaani, Naina and Simran were the first ones outside her family to know. That in itself made Vaani feel touched.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, there was an ache she couldn't name.
Not jealousy. No, not at all. She was genuinely, fully happy for Ria.
But watching her talk about her future husband with glowing eyes — about the way he looked at her during the proposal, the nerves in his voice, the laughter that followed — Vaani felt like she was watching something from far away.
Like she was on the outside of the glass.
She sipped her coffee and smiled through it, nodding at all the right places, offering suggestions when asked.
But inside, a quiet voice whispered — Did anyone ever look at you like that, Vaani? Did he? Will he ever?
She didn't let the voice linger.
Instead, she leaned forward, joining the next round of teasing and planning, letting the joy of her friends wrap around her like warmth. It wasn't her story being told today, but she was glad to be there — for Ria, for their years of friendship, for the memory they were making right now.
Even if her smile took just a little more effort to hold.
Ria took a huge sip of her coffee, cheeks flushed with the weight of the moment. "So... we're thinking May."
Simran gasped. "Wait. This May?! That's, like, two month away!"
Ria nodded, grinning. "Yup. We don't want to wait too long. It's not going to be huge—just a biggish family wedding. I mean, the guest list is already hitting 300 but—"
Vaani choked on her sip of cappuccino. "Ria. Three hundred is not a small wedding."
"I know," Ria groaned, dramatically letting her head fall on the table. "My mom keeps adding people. Some friend from yoga. Some old neighbor from my childhood I don't even remember. I'm just saying yes at this point."
Naina leaned back. "Okay wait, so where is this happening? Mumbai? Jaipur?"
"Nope," Ria said, sitting up straight, her eyes glowing again. "Goa."
Vaani's eyebrows shot up. "Goa?"
"Yup! He really wanted a beach-side wedding, and honestly so did I. So we've booked a resort near South Goa—it's beautiful, very private, really peaceful."
Simran clapped. "Oh my god, I love that. Beach weddings are so romantic."
Vaani smiled, genuinely this time. "They really are. You're going to look gorgeous walking down the aisle with the sea breeze in your hair."
Ria held her hand over her heart. "Please stop, I will cry right here. But yes—May third to sixth.
Four days. Mehendi, sangeet, wedding, and reception."
"Damn, you're moving fast," Simran teased. "You barely got the ring on last night and you've already booked the resort."
Ria rolled her eyes fondly. "He and I had already talked about this before. The moment he proposed, my mom went into full wedding-planner mode. I swear, she already has Pinterest boards for each day."
Vaani laughed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Are we allowed to see these Pinterest boards or are they strictly classified?"
"I'll send you the whole deck," Ria smirked. "You know I'm relying on you both for outfit planning and crisis control."
"Obviously," Simran said proudly. "But fair warning, I might cry more than your mother."
Ria glanced at Vaani and Naina again. "You all come early, right? You're part of the core team."
Vaani blinked. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything."
"You better not," Ria said. "Honestly, it still hasn't hit me fully. Like—I'm getting married."
"Get ready for cold feet," Simran teased. "And fights about mandap decor."
They all laughed, the sound echoing lightly off the glass walls.
Vaani sipped her coffee again, this time letting herself sink into the warmth of the moment. The excitement was infectious, and she found herself caught up in it despite the tangle of emotions inside her.
Ria was getting married in a month.
Another chapter beginning.
And yet again, Vaani found herself wondering when hers would feel like one.
~·~
Vaani walked into the office building with a little more energy than usual, her bag slung over her shoulder and a soft smile still lingering on her lips.
The buzz of her conversation with her friends replayed in her mind like a happy tune—Ria was getting married. Her best friend was getting married. Somehow, even with everything swirling around in her own life, that news had managed to light something bright within her.
She stepped out of the lift, greeting the receptionist with a cheerful nod before heading toward her floor. Her team was already gathered, half of them bent over screens, others sipping coffee and making light chatter.
"Good morning, Vaani!" her colleague Neha said brightly.
"Hey," Vaani smiled, taking her seat at the desk beside hers. "Morning."
"You look... suspiciously happy for someone walking into a pile of work."
Vaani laughed. "It's just been a good morning."
As she opened her laptop and checked her emails, the usual rhythm of the office surrounded her—calls being answered, keyboards tapping, the quiet hum of productivity. It felt normal, grounding. But today, the weight of the past few weeks didn't feel as heavy.
A few minutes later, as she was walking her junior through a layout rework, the sound of firm, confident footsteps made her glance up. Her cross-manager, Mr. Kapoor, a tall, well-dressed man in his mid-40s, was striding through the aisle toward her.
"Vaani," he said with a nod and a smile.
She stood quickly, instinctively professional. "Good morning, sir."
He gestured toward her desk. "Mind if I steal a minute?"
"Of course."
He gave her a look that was both impressed and pleasantly proud. "I just had a call with the regional head this morning. They reviewed the campaign pitch your team submitted last week for the sustainability brand collab."
Vaani blinked, her heart skipping. "Oh—yes, sir."
"They loved it. In fact, they've specifically asked me to pass along their compliments to you. Said your strategic flow, detailing, and aesthetic sense was exceptional."
A slow, genuine smile bloomed across her face.
"That's... really wonderful to hear."
"And well-deserved," he added. "Honestly, Vaani, you've proven yourself in every possible way since you joined. From the way you lead your team, to the consistency in your ideas—you've become an asset to this company. I'm proud to have you here."
That part made her pause, just slightly. An asset to this company. For all the roles she'd been trying to play lately—wife, daughter-in-law, newlywed—this was one where she felt solid. Certain. Needed.
"Thank you so much, sir," she said, her voice sincere. "That really means a lot to me."
He nodded and gave her a warm smile before moving on, already halfway through another email as he walked.
Neha gave her a sideways glance. "Okay, now you really look suspiciously happy."
Vaani laughed under her breath and sat back down, the recognition settling over her like a warm shawl. In the middle of all this newness—new house, new last name, new silences—this part of her life still made sense.
She turned back to her screen with a sense of steadiness. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, she felt like she had her footing again.
Meanwhile, in Business Bay, the view from Dhruv's corner office looked out over Dubai's sleek skyline — endless glass, concrete, and ambition. Sunlight bounced off the surrounding towers, painting faint golden patterns onto the walls of the boardroom he now stood in.
A small group of executives had gathered around the long conference table — laptops open, coffee cups half-full, slides projected neatly on the wall. The agenda was clear: finalize the groundwork for the upcoming Abu Dhabi branch of their firm.
"This location is key," Dhruv said, hands in his pockets as he addressed the room. "We're going to need not just a seamless operational launch, but an identity. The interiors should reflect that — minimal, modern, rooted in our values."
An associate, Rohan, nodded. "We've shortlisted a few design firms that specialize in high-end commercial interiors, especially for tech-business hybrids."
"Great," Dhruv said. "Let's hear them."
Rohan flipped open his laptop, turned it toward Dhruv and the rest of the team, and began the presentation.
"This one's called NestForm Studios. Dubai-based, medium-sized but with a strong design portfolio across residential and commercial projects.
Their aesthetic aligns well with what we've discussed. "
As images scrolled across the screen — sleek lobby renderings, clean-lined workspaces, smart material use — Dhruv gave a small nod of approval. The visuals were sharp. Sophisticated, yet warm. Thoughtful.
Rohan added, "Their creative head is someone named Vaani Joshi. She's young, but the way she's led projects is impressive. NestForm's received a ton of client praise under her leadership — she's pretty much shaped their design language."
The moment he said the name, Dhruv's hand — which had been loosely curled at his side — twitched ever so slightly.
He didn't look up. He didn't shift in his seat. But in his mind, her face flickered briefly. The small smile she wore when her chai turned out just right. Her voice from a few nights ago, quiet but kind, offering him dinner without fuss.
Vaani.
"Hmm," he responded coolly, keeping his tone businesslike. "What's their pricing model?"
Rohan pulled up a PDF with itemized estimates.
"They do custom quotes depending on square footage and scale.
But for commercial projects of this kind, their starting quote is here.
.." he pointed, "...and then it scales based on how involved we want the team to be.
Honestly, it's competitive. Not cheap, but their work justifies the price. "
The screen flashed again — a sleek reception area with wooden paneling and arched lighting. Then another — a workspace flooded with natural light and intelligently partitioned zones for creative and executive teams.
Dhruv leaned back slightly, arms crossed.
"She did this?" he asked, eyes narrowing on the image.
"Yes, last year. For a media firm downtown."
He glanced over the pictures again. Everything was exactly what he envisioned — structured, clean, but not cold. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of admiration... and surprise. She had designed this?
He exhaled quietly. "Interesting."
His colleague Mark leaned forward. "They're well-reviewed, too. Known for good client management and sticking to deadlines. You want us to initiate contact?"
Dhruv gave a single nod, his voice steady. "Yes. Let's go with them. Reach out, get them on board. We'll set up a consultation for next week."
"Noted," Rohan said, typing rapidly.
Mark grinned, closing his laptop. "I'll message the firm today. You'll probably meet their design lead soon, then."
Dhruv simply nodded again and looked down at the pad in front of him, scribbling a few quick notes — though none of them had anything to do with the meeting. His mind, against his better judgment, had wandered.
So this was what she did. This was where she poured all her expression, her sharpness, her focus. These designs... he hadn't known. Or maybe he hadn't tried to know.
He blinked, pushing the thought away. "Let's make sure timelines are airtight. I don't want delays. This branch opens September, no matter what."
"Got it," the team replied.
As the meeting wrapped up, Dhruv closed his laptop, nodded at his team, and headed back to his office. The thick glass door slid shut behind him.
He let out a long breath as he sat down. Still unreadable on the outside.
But inside, he couldn't stop seeing her name at the bottom of those slides.
Not as his wife.
But as a designer. A professional.
The soft clatter of a keyboard and the faint buzz of discussion hummed through the open-floor workspace of NestForm Studios.
Vaani sat at her desk, hunched slightly forward, eyes darting between sketches and her screen.
Her headphones rested around her neck, forgotten as she toggled between layout drafts, color swatches, and timelines.
It had been a packed morning — two client calls, one delayed vendor meeting, and an internal design review.
But she liked this kind of rhythm. The rush, the clarity of creation.
Just then, she sensed a presence beside her. She looked up briefly to see her regional head, Rishi, standing with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face.
"Big news!" he said, clearly trying to contain his excitement.
Vaani blinked up at him, not pulling fully out of her work. "Hmm?"
"We just landed a huge client," he said, dropping the news like confetti. "It's called Ratan Group — tech, logistics, operations, pan-Gulf expansion. Massive footprint."
She nodded distractedly, the name not fully registering as her eyes flicked back to the sketch on her screen. "That's great."
Rishi leaned on the edge of her desk, still grinning. "And they've commissioned us to design their new Abu Dhabi office. Commercial space. Whole floor. High-end work zones, client reception, conference suites, everything."
Vaani looked up again, finally giving him her full attention.
"They specifically asked for you."
Her brows furrowed lightly. "Sorry, what?"
"They want you to lead the project. Your name was mentioned specifically during the inquiry. Seems like they've seen your work — maybe the Greenstone project? Or possibly the EmiratesTech refurb?"
That caught her completely off guard. She straightened a little in her chair. "Wait, they asked for me?"
Rishi nodded. "Verbatim. 'We'd like to work with your lead designer, Ms. Vaani Joshi.' Sounded pretty damn impressed, too."
"Oh," she said, blinking slowly.
"Well? You in?" he asked, clearly amused by her stunned expression.
She smiled quickly, her professional instincts kicking in. "Of course. That's amazing. Thank you for looping me in."
He stood upright again. "Awesome. I'll send you the blueprints by this evening — the site visit's scheduled for tomorrow morning. You'll meet the reps and get a sense of the space before we sketch the design. It's a tight deadline but I think we can make it work."
Vaani nodded, reaching for her notebook. "Tomorrow morning — noted."
As Rishi walked off, still on a call with one of the project managers, Vaani leaned back slightly in her chair, trying to piece it together.
Ratan Group.
The name still hadn't rung a bell. She figured she'd look into it later.
But something about the way it had all been worded — they asked for you — stuck with her.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, jotted the meeting time into her planner, and turned back to her screen.
~·~
Vaani stepped into the apartment, the soft click of the door echoing gently through the quiet space.
The city lights shimmered far below the balcony windows, casting a golden hue across the marble floor of their living room.
Her heels clicked softly as she walked in, setting her bag down and slipping her shoes off at the side. She took a moment to breathe it in.
It had been a good day.
A really good day.
She had laughed more than she had in weeks, screamed a little too loudly in that café when Ria had announced her engagement, and the warmth of their friendship had wrapped around her like a long-lost blanket.
And then — the client. The project. The recognition.
Her name had meant something. The faith placed in her wasn't borrowed through connections or reputation — it was hers, earned through late nights, honest work, and consistency.
Her lips curled into a faint, quiet smile as she poured herself a glass of water from the kitchen.
Still no sound from the rest of the house.
She didn't expect it. Dhruv had mentioned in the morning — a late meeting, a working dinner, and some back-to-back calls for the upcoming expansion.
She had nodded back then. And she nodded to herself now.
She didn't wait anymore. Not for dinner. Not for conversations. Not for anything.
It wasn't that she was bitter — she had no right to be.
He hadn't promised anything beyond what they had agreed.
This wasn't a love story, not yet anyway.
This was partnership on paper. A friendship that hadn't quite begun.
She understood that. It didn't hurt as much as it just.. . lingered. Quietly.
She reheated some dal and rice from the fridge, scooped a little sabzi onto her plate, and sat alone at the dining table. No music. No calls. Just the sound of her spoon scraping gently against the plate.
When she was done, she cleaned up, left the lights on low, and walked to the bedroom.
She changed into her cotton nightwear, tied her hair up, applied lip balm from habit — and slipped into bed. The emptiness beside her no longer felt odd. It was just how it was.
She turned off the lamp and closed her eyes.
~·~
It was past midnight when Dhruv unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his laptop bag in the other. The day had been long, the meetings heavy — his mind still buzzed with numbers, plans, deadlines.
The lights were dim. The air was warm. And it smelled faintly of incense and lavender.
He walked into the kitchen, poured himself some water, and glanced at the counter.
There was no note. No chai waiting for him. No dinner. But there was peace. A stillness he couldn't quite define.
He moved toward the bedroom quietly, pushed open the door slowly — and there she was.
Asleep, on her side, the blanket pulled halfway up her arm. Her hair was loose, her face soft in the warm glow of the night lamp. Her mangalsutra caught the light faintly, a quiet symbol resting just over her collarbone.
For a moment, he just stood there.
He didn't know what he felt. Maybe admiration. Maybe guilt. Maybe nothing at all. She looked content. Or maybe just... self-contained. Like someone who had learned to be alone in her own way.
He undressed quietly, changed into his nightclothes, and slipped into bed beside her, careful not to wake her.
She didn't stir.
And in the space between them — silent, unchanged — the clock ticked on.
??