15
The apartment was filled with soft morning light filtering through the tall windows, the city skyline still waking up.
Dhruv stood at the kitchen counter, pouring two cups of chai - the way he'd seen her make it, with a little more adrak and less sugar.
He wasn't sure if he had the proportions right, but he liked the warmth of it, the ritual of it. The familiarity.
He walked back to the living room, settled onto the couch, and switched on the news. Some political panel was yelling over fuel prices. He wasn't listening - not really. Just something to fill the silence while the chai cooled.
A few minutes later, the sound of the bedroom door opening pulled his attention slightly.
Vaani stepped out, freshly showered, her hair still damp at the ends.
She wore that same pair of soft cotton pajamas - pale blue with tiny white stars - and an oversized grey tee.
He'd seen her wear that exact combo earlier this week. Maybe even the week before.
She padded into the kitchen without saying anything and returned with her cup of chai, holding it in both hands like it was a quiet comfort. She looked sleepy still, no makeup, just fresh-faced and peaceful.
"Morning," Dhruv said, glancing her way.
"Morning," she replied, sipping her chai.
He looked at her for a second longer before asking, "Don't you have work?"
She blinked and then gave him a look. "It's Saturday."
"Oh." He paused, half-smiling at himself. "Right."
She nodded and curled up on the other side of the couch, her legs folded underneath her as she scrolled through Instagram on her phone, her expression unreadable but calm. The light from the screen danced in her eyes as she double-tapped on a post and moved on.
He watched her in the way someone watches something without realizing - almost like background noise - but not quite. She looked content, or at least at ease, with the way she let the silence linger comfortably.
And then, after a pause too long to be casual, he said, "You wear that same t-shirt like... three times a week."
She looked up, a bit startled. "Huh?"
He nodded slightly toward her. "That one. The grey one. And the pajamas. You wore them two days ago, too."
She blinked, clearly trying to process whether he was teasing or genuinely curious.
"I like them," she finally said with a light shrug, looking down at herself. "They're comfortable."
"You don't want to wear... other t-shirts?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I have other t-shirts."
"Then?"
She smiled a little, gently. "But I like these ones."
He nodded, letting it go, though he didn't quite know why he brought it up in the first place.
Maybe it was just something he noticed. Maybe it was the way he was starting to notice small things about her - like how she always put her hair up when working, or how she hummed under her breath while stirring chai.
And maybe he didn't know what to do with those observations yet.
She went back to her phone, scrolling quietly, sipping her chai without looking up again. The news panel had moved on to sports.
He reached for the remote, turned the volume down a little.
And the silence between them - soft and domestic - settled once again.
The news was still murmuring in the background, the low tones of the anchor narrating yet another political development, but Vaani wasn't listening. Not really. Her gaze had drifted to Dhruv, who sat a few feet away from her on the adjacent couch.
He was dressed in a soft navy t-shirt and black joggers, one hand wrapped around his half-finished cup of chai, the other resting on the couch arm.
His posture was relaxed, one leg crossed casually over the other, but there was something about the angle of his jaw, the way the morning light grazed the stubble along his face, that made her pause.
Her eyes lingered a moment longer than she meant them to. There was something effortless about the way he carried himself even when he wasn't trying. The quiet confidence. The sort of stillness that made you look twice.
And just then-without looking at her-he asked, "You need something, Vaani?"
She blinked, startled. "N-no. No, nothing."
He turned his head slightly toward her, his brows raising. "Then what happened?"
She straightened up a little too quickly, clutching her cup tighter. "No... it's nothing. I was just thinking."
His eyes stayed on her for a beat longer than she was prepared for. As if he knew. Or maybe as if he didn't, but sensed something was off.
"Hm," he said, unconvinced. Then he stood, stretching his arms slightly before walking into the kitchen to rinse out his cup.
She watched him move, silently scolding herself. What are you even doing, Vaani? Get a grip. He's your husband, yes, but this isn't that kind of marriage.
Dhruv returned a moment later, wiping his hands on a towel. "I'll be out with my friends today," he said casually, not meeting her eyes as he stood near the kitchen. "So... if you want to make your own plans, feel free."
"Oh," she said, trying to mask the tiny dip in her chest. "Okay. Sure."
He nodded. "I'll probably be back late, so don't wait for dinner or anything."
She nodded again, offering a quick smile. "Got it."
And that was that. He moved to the room, presumably to change or get ready, while she sat there, the weight of her half-empty chai mug feeling heavier than before.
She didn't know why she had assumed they'd spend the day together. Maybe it was the way he had stayed up with her the night before, eating fries and watching her silly show. Maybe it was the chai he made this morning. The fact that they had shared silence that didn't feel uncomfortable.
It was foolish, really. She reminded herself-he told you what this marriage would be like. He didn't promise time or affection or partnership. You said yes anyway.
Still, a part of her had hoped.
And hopes, she was learning, were heavier to carry than expectations.
She set her cup down gently on the table and rose, brushing invisible creases off her pajama pants as if doing so could smooth over the ache in her chest. She had the whole day ahead of her. She'd figure something out.
Even if it wasn't what she really wanted.
Dhruv came out of the room dressed in a crisp black linen shirt and light denims, phone in one hand, slipping his watch onto the other.
"I'll see you later," he said, grabbing his wallet and keys from the console near the door. His tone was casual, distant, already half-immersed in whatever plans waited for him beyond the apartment walls.
Vaani, still in her cotton tee and comfy joggers, looked up from the cushion she had been mindlessly adjusting. "Yeah, okay. Have fun."
He gave a small nod and left, the door shutting with a soft finality behind him.
And then the silence returned.
Vaani sat there for a minute. Two. She looked around at the space - clean, minimal, quiet. Her tea was long finished, the news on TV still playing, but she muted it with the remote. The empty flat suddenly felt too spacious. Too still.
She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, closed it again. Then she walked into the bedroom, stood near the window for a while, then sat on the bed. Got up again. Walked back to the living room and finally, flopped onto the couch.
Her phone was next to her. She picked it up and opened Instagram. Scrolled. Liked a few posts. Replied to a DM from one of her college juniors. Then paused at Ria's story - a photo of a Goan beachside resort, half-decorated with fairy lights and flowers, captioned: "It's happening!"
A smile spread slowly across Vaani's face. Without thinking twice, she tapped on the call icon.
Ria answered almost instantly. "Vaaniii!" she squealed. "You're alive!"
"I am. And you're in Goa already?"
Ria flipped the camera to show the ocean view from her room. "Yeah, arrived yesterday with Mom and the decorators. You are coming a day before the wedding, no?"
Vaani nodded, tucking her legs beneath her. "That's the plan. But I'll have to leave after the reception. Work."
"Of course," Ria agreed, but gently. "Anyway, tell me what's up with you! You sound like you were dying of boredom."
"I am, kind of," Vaani admitted with a laugh. "He's out with his friends. I have nothing to do."
"You should've gone with him!"
"I don't think it was that kind of plan," she said quietly.
There was a pause, a knowing one, and Ria didn't push it.
"So," Vaani continued quickly, changing the subject, "how's everything going? Venue sorted? Caterers?"
"Almost. The food tasting is this evening - wanna join on video?"
Vaani smiled genuinely now. "Please. I'd love to."
"Oh, and guess what - the mehendi is gonna be by the poolside. I found this open mandap structure with yellow drapes and flower garlands, you'll die when you see it."
"Send me pictures!"
"I'll send a whole damn mood board. You know me."
Vaani laughed. For the first time that day, the air felt lighter.
They talked for another twenty minutes. Ria walked her through the layout for the wedding day, the backup rain plan, the sangeet choreography group (where Vaani was still the unofficial lead dancer), and the guest list drama with distant relatives.
"God," Vaani said, her hand over her mouth from laughing, "I forgot how chaotic weddings get."
"Come here already," Ria groaned. "I need help. And also gossip. And your calm face when my mother starts panicking."
"I will," Vaani promised. "Just two weeks."
"Yup," Ria said, eyes softening, "and then I'll be someone's wife."
That word hit Vaani unexpectedly. She nodded, her smile faltering just a touch.
Ria noticed but didn't comment. She just added, "You're coming early tho, before the wedding day, right?"
"Yes. I'll be there."
"Good. I want you around. Always."
When the call ended, Vaani felt a warmth in her chest that she hadn't realised she'd been missing. A little slice of familiarity. A reminder of who she used to be before all of this.
Before she could think too deeply about it, her phone buzzed with a message.
Mark: Painting is going well. Site looks solid. Will send pictures by EOD.
Back to reality.
Still, she wasn't as bored anymore. She pulled her laptop closer. Maybe she'd look through some new inspiration for the Abu Dhabi project. Maybe she'd sketch something - not for work, just for herself.
Dhruv might be out.
But her world, slowly, was beginning to feel like hers again.
The apartment was unnervingly still.
After the call with Ria ended, the silence that settled in wasn't unfamiliar, but it felt heavier than usual. Vaani walked over to the kitchen, refilled her water bottle, stood near the sink for a moment, and then slowly wandered back to the living room.
She looked around at the empty space, the untouched cushions, the half-folded throw on the arm of the couch, the faint hum of the fridge. There was nothing to do. No meetings. No design work that couldn't wait until Monday. No errands urgent enough to drag her out in the heat.
She sat down on the couch again, curling one leg under her.
The remote lay within reach.
She hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and turned the TV back on. For a few seconds, the loud jingle of an ad startled the quiet, but it was oddly comforting too. She flipped through channels aimlessly before settling on a movie she'd already seen before - Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.
She let it play.
It wasn't that she was particularly interested in watching it again - it was just easy.
Familiar. It filled the room with something.
Laughter. Music. Movement. She watched Hrithik's character, emotionally stunted and obsessed with work, and for a fleeting second, thought of Dhruv.
The thought left just as quickly as it came.
She pulled a throw over herself and settled in deeper into the couch.
An hour passed. Maybe two.
She switched to Netflix and browsed a while. Scrolled through thumbnails. Picked Queen next. Again, something she'd seen before. Something that didn't demand too much of her emotionally, but still held her attention.
By the time Rani was roaming the streets of Paris, she was curled up with a bowl of popcorn she'd lazily made out of sheer habit - buttered, lightly salted. She munched quietly, her eyes flickering across the screen, not really watching the movie as much as letting it wash over her.
Every now and then, her gaze drifted to the door.
She didn't know when Dhruv would be back. He hadn't said. And she wouldn't ask. That was how it worked now.
Around 5:30 PM, the sky outside began to change color - warm tones spilling into the living room as the sun began its slow descent. The golden light made the apartment look softer. Homier. But it also made the loneliness more visible. Like a spotlight on something missing.
She paused the movie and walked over to the window.
Down below, couples strolled past cafes. A family with kids giggled at the street vendor's cart. There was life outside. Laughter. Movement.
Inside, it was just her.
She turned back to the couch and hit play.
Rani was dancing now - free, bold, grinning - in a club surrounded by strangers who'd become friends. Vaani watched, a little mesmerized, a little envious.
Her phone buzzed. It was just a forwarded message from her work group.
No message from Dhruv.
She turned the volume up and kept watching.
And even as the screen flickered with energy and joy and a girl rediscovering herself - Vaani couldn't shake the hollowness in her chest.
She wasn't sad. Not exactly.
Just... waiting.
For something to shift.
It was almost 6 PM. The sky outside had begun to deepen into a smoky gold, the kind of dusky hue that usually signaled dinner preparations and the comforting bustle of people returning home.
But the apartment was still.
Vaani sat curled up on the couch, the same movie now long finished. The bowl of popcorn sat beside her half-eaten, and the silence felt louder than ever.
She glanced at her phone.
No message.
She hadn't expected one - Dhruv had said he'd be late, out with friends - but somehow, she still kept checking.
With a small sigh, she pushed the blanket off and stood up. The emptiness wasn't doing her any favors tonight. She needed noise. Familiarity. Warmth.
She headed to her room, pulling her hair up in a loose ponytail as she opened the cupboard. After a few minutes of rummaging, she picked a nice cotton kurti and jeans, added a bit of kohl and lip balm, and slipped on her juttis. Something simple, but it made her feel presentable.
By 6:30, she had locked up the apartment and called a cab.
~·~
The doorbell rang at the Joshi household.
A minute later, her mother opened the door - and blinked in surprise. "Vaani!"
"Aai!" Vaani smiled brightly, stepping in as her mother moved aside. "Did I scare you?"
"Scared? I'm shocked! You didn't even call!" Sunita pulled her into a warm hug. "What happened? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine!" Vaani laughed. "I was just home alone today, he had plans, so I thought I'd come here."
Her father appeared from the hallway with his newspaper folded under one arm. "Arre wah, what a surprise! Come in, come in. Did you eat something?"
Before she could answer, two voices boomed from the living room.
"OYEEE!"
"Look who's here!"
Vedant and Vihaan came rushing over, dramatic as ever. Vihaan practically threw a cushion at her. "You forgot us already?"
"You didn't even text!" Vedant added, mock betrayal on his face.
Vaani rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I texted you two days ago."
"Not the same as showing up," Vihaan said, pulling her into a quick brotherly hug before stealing her bag. "You're staying for dinner. Settled."
"I just walked in!"
"So?" Vedant grinned as Vaani ruffled his hair. "You're not escaping."
"Okay, okay! Relax!" She laughed as she sat on the couch between them. "I came to escape the silence at home. And... maybe also for maa ke haath ka food."
"That's the real reason," Sunita called from the kitchen. "And I don't blame you."
Vihaan sprawled beside her. "So? What's new in your world, married lady?"
Vaani gave him a look. "Not much. Work's been busy."
"Oh! Speaking of weddings-" Vedant leaned forward, eyes glinting, "-Ria Di messaged! Her wedding prep's officially gone into chaos mode."
"Chaos?" Vaani grinned. "Already?"
Ramesh chuckled from his armchair. "Is it even a wedding without chaos?"
"She's losing it over the final guest list," Vihaan added. "Apparently, one of the resort villas got overbooked."
"I told her not to go with that place," Vaani said, shaking her head fondly. "But she was too obsessed with the beach view."
"And now she'll be watching the beach from a tent," Vedant teased.
They all laughed.
Sunita returned with a tray of chai and snacks. "Here. Everyone shut up and eat."
The evening turned warm. Laughter, overlapping conversations, the smell of fresh pakoras and chai wafting through the house - it all reminded Vaani of how easy everything used to be. Before marriage. Before navigating silence and space and unread messages.
She smiled as Vihaan started complaining about the wedding outfits and Vedant teased him relentlessly.
And for the first time in days, she felt full.
Of sound.
Of family.
Of belonging.
~·~
The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and Dhruv stepped into the apartment, shoulders slightly aching from the long day out.
It was nearing 10 PM. Laughter and noise still rang faintly in his ears from dinner with his college friends, but the moment the door shut behind him, a blanket of silence wrapped itself around the flat.
He paused, slipping off his shoes.
He walked in, expecting to find her on the couch, maybe asleep with the TV on, like last time. But the hall was dark. The cushions on the couch were perfectly arranged. No sign of her blanket, no McFlurry cup or popcorn bowl-nothing to suggest she'd been there at all.
His brows drew together.
Maybe she's in the room.
"Vaani?" he called out, automatically.
No response.
He walked past the kitchen-empty-and headed down the hallway, pushing open the bedroom door gently.
No one.
Lights off. No bags, no papers scattered around, no faint music playing from her speaker.
She wasn't home.
He checked his phone. No messages.
For a second, he debated just letting it be-she was an adult, she didn't owe him hourly updates. But something about the quiet unsettled him. Maybe it was the contrast to how loud the flat had been the night before when Aarav was around. Or maybe it was just the way the silence felt... oddly still.
Finally, after pacing once around the living room, he gave in.
He went to his room, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled out his phone.
The contact had been saved a month ago, just before the wedding, under the formal pressure of sharing numbers in case of emergencies. Neither of them had used it since.
He tapped on her name and typed:
Dhruv:
Hey. It's Dhruv. Where are you?
He stared at the screen for a second before hitting send.
Fifteen minutes passed.
He'd changed into his home clothes by then - loose joggers and a plain grey t-shirt - and was just finishing up splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom when his phone buzzed from the bedside table.
He wiped his hands and picked it up.
Vaani:
Hi. I'm at my parents' place. I'll be back soon.
A pause. He read it twice, his jaw ticking for a second before he replied:
Dhruv:
Okay.
He dropped the phone back on the table and exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his damp hair.
For a second, he stood there, looking at the now dim hallway outside the bedroom.
There was no reason to feel anything about it. She had gone to her parents' place-it was Saturday, after all. Normal.
But something still lingered.
He rubbed the back of his neck, turned the lights off, and headed to the kitchen. The stillness of the apartment settled around him again as he grabbed a glass of water.
She didn't even tell me she was going.
He sipped slowly, trying to shake off the thought. But it stayed.
He didn't know why it stayed. Even when he convinced his mind, You only told her you didn't need hourly updates. Not like you told her your plans.
Maybe it was because she usually was there when he came home.
Or maybe it was because... he had wanted her to be.
He placed the glass in the sink and walked back into the hall, sitting down on the edge of the couch.
A few strands of her hair were still stuck to the cushion from earlier that day when she had been curled up here watching her show.
The same cushion she used to balance her dinner on. He noticed it now.
With a small shake of his head, he leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment.
He told himself to sleep. That she'd be back soon.
And yet, his ears stayed alert, listening-just faintly-for the sound of keys at the door.
Dhruv sat back on the couch, the TV playing some muted cricket highlights, but his attention wasn't on the screen. It had been nearly thirty-five minutes since Vaani had messaged him. Thirty-five minutes longer than she'd said she'd be at her parents'.
His fingers instinctively reached for his phone again. He stared at her contact - Vaani Joshi - the name a sharp reminder of how much had changed, and yet how much felt the same.
He muttered under his breath, "She's not just Joshi anymore."
With a slight smile, almost involuntarily, he tapped the edit button and changed her last name to Deshmukh. It was a small thing, a flicker of something tender and real in a day clouded by distance.
That simple change made something inside him feel a little lighter - an unexplainable warmth, as if by naming her differently, he was silently accepting this new reality.
Then the doubts crept in.
Should I message her again? It had been twenty minutes past the time she'd said she'd be back. Was she stuck? Did something happen?
He shook his head, trying to push away the anxiety.
"No," he told himself firmly. "Wait ten more minutes. Give her the space she needs."
So he put the phone down, leaned back on the couch, and tried to focus on the muted television - though his mind raced, caught between hope and worry, between patience and the urge to reach out.
Ten more minutes.
That was all he would give it.
It was almost 11 when the door finally creaked open.
Dhruv was sitting on the couch, the muted TV flickering softly in the quiet room.
He glanced up as Vaani stepped in, her bag slung over one shoulder, the day's weariness in her eyes.
He was just about to call her when he noticed the door opening and closing; he quickly put his phone away.
She locked the door behind her with a soft click and gave a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry I got late. Vedant kept insisting I play one more round of cards."
Dhruv nodded wordlessly, watching her disappear down the hallway. Minutes later, she reappeared in comfortable clothes, the ease of home settling over her. She glanced over and asked softly, "Did you eat?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"And you?"
Another nod from her, but her eyes flickered with fatigue. Silence settled thick between them.
After a pause, she started to turn away, "I... I'll let you be then."
Her steps were slow, almost hesitant, until Dhruv's hand reached out suddenly and gently grasped her wrist. The touch was soft but firm enough to hold her back. His eyes searched hers, unreadable, and in that brief contact, the tiredness and walls between them seemed to tremble just a little.
"Do you mind making us a cup of chai?" he asked quietly.
She blinked, surprised. "Oh... sure." Her fingers slipped out from his grasp, and she moved toward the kitchen.
As she busied herself with the kettle and the tea leaves, Dhruv sat back down on the couch, watching her silhouette moving quietly in the kitchen light.
Why on earth am I even having chai now? he thought. I just had tea with the guys an hour ago.
But despite the lingering awkwardness, something about her presence felt grounding-comforting in an unfamiliar way.
As she brewed the tea and came back with the cups, he caught himself watching every small movement - the way her fingers curled slightly around the cup, the tired set of her shoulders, the quiet strength she held even now.
He didn't know why the simple touch of her wrist stayed with him, why it made him pause and think. But he did know one thing-something was shifting, and he wasn't sure where it was headed yet.
He took a slow sip of chai, eyes lingering on her as the quiet evening wrapped around them both.
??