40
The soft warmth of sunlight seeped through the curtains when Vaani stirred awake. She blinked, squinting at the brightness filling the room. For a brief moment, she lay there, her body still heavy from sleep, before she stretched and reached for her phone on the bedside table.
The screen lit up: 10:03 a.m.
Her eyes widened. "Oh God," she muttered, sitting up abruptly.
"Yaudha time?" (This much time?) She pressed a palm to her forehead, half scolding herself, half bewildered.
She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up so late.
Ever since she had been juggling two jobs alongside her projects, her mornings had always been a blur of alarms, hurried showers, and rushing to start the day.
She glanced at Dhruv's side of the bed, already neatly empty. He must have left hours ago. Of course he had—he was always precise, always disciplined. Even after late nights, Dhruv never wavered from his routine. A part of her wondered if he had noticed her sleeping so deeply when he left.
Sliding out of bed, she padded across the room, showered quickly, and changed into a simple kurti and leggings. By the time she came out into the kitchen, she had already decided to make herself chai.
The kettle whistled, and the familiar scent of tea leaves and cardamom filled the quiet kitchen. She poured herself a cup, wrapping her hands around it and letting the warmth seep into her palms. With no other sound in the house, the silence felt strangely heavy—not unpleasant, just unusual.
She settled into a chair near the window, sipping slowly, and her gaze fell on the clock. Ten-thirty now. The realization struck her again: she had free time. Actual free time.
Her project's main deliverables had been submitted.
The next project wouldn't begin until the following week, and she had already finished laying out the groundwork.
And with her second job gone—thanks to Dhruv's relentless insistence—there was no overflowing pile of spreadsheets or client reports demanding her attention.
For the first time in months, she had nothing pressing to do.
The thought made her restless almost immediately. She shifted in her seat, took another sip of chai, and frowned slightly. "What am I supposed to do with myself?" she muttered aloud, half amused, half uneasy. The quiet stretched around her.
After a few moments, she picked up her phone and scrolled aimlessly through her contacts.
Her eyes lingered on Maa and Papa.
Her lips curved into a faint smile. She hadn't spoken to her in-laws in a few days, and now felt like the perfect time.
They always filled the silence with warmth.
She tapped the number and waited, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Vaani! Beta!" Jaya's cheerful voice rang through the line almost instantly, bringing a wave of comfort with it.
"Namaskar, Maa!" Vaani replied warmly, a smile spreading across her face.
"Vaani, how are you? It's been a while since you called," Mahesh's deep, steady voice joined in from the background.
"I'm good, Baba. I was just thinking of you both," Vaani said.
"Arre, how sweet!" Jaya chuckled. "We were just talking about you and Dhruv yesterday, wondering when we'll get to see you both again."
Vaani's cheeks warmed. "Soon, Aai. Maybe this weekend."
"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Jaya exclaimed. "Tell me, how was your honeymoon in Scotland? We only saw a few photos you sent. You never told us the full story!"
Vaani chuckled lightly, leaning back in her chair.
"It was beautiful, Maa. We went to the Highlands—green everywhere, mist on the hills, and the air was so crisp.
I don't think I've ever seen landscapes like that before.
Dhruv... well, you know him, not much of a talker, but I could see him actually relax there. I think he loved the peace."
Mahesh chuckled on the line. "That's my son. He'll never say it out loud, but if you noticed it, it must be true."
"Yes, Papa," Vaani said with a small smile. "And the little cottages we stayed in—they were straight out of a postcard. One night, it rained nonstop, and we just sat inside with the heater and warmth. It was... simple, but perfect."
"How lovely," Jaya sighed wistfully. "And after Scotland, you both went to Oxford, right?"
"Yes," Vaani replied, her smile growing.
"Oxford was like stepping into another world.
The architecture—the old stone buildings, the libraries—they were breathtaking.
It felt like walking through history. I kept thinking of all the scholars who must have studied there for centuries.
Plus, it felt nice coming back to Oxford after university. "
Mahesh's tone was playful. "I can imagine."
Vaani nodded. "Though we spent more time outside, walking along the cobbled streets. The weather was chilly, but it wasn't unbearable. And in Scotland, we met my college friend Aria and her husband, Aditya. They were on honeymoon too."
"Oh, that must have been nice," Jaya said warmly. "Reuniting with old friends on a trip!"
"It was," Vaani agreed. "Aria and I talked for hours—just like old times. And Aditya got along with Dhruv, surprisingly. We even had dinner together at this little restaurant near the river. The food was okay, but the company made it special."
"And the weather?" Mahesh asked curiously.
"Chilly, like I said," Vaani replied. "But I loved it. The crispness in the air, the way the light hit the old buildings—it made the whole place feel alive. And Scotland was colder, of course, but in Oxford, the chill felt like it belonged with the old-world charm."
"You sound like you had a wonderful time," Jaya said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "We're so glad you did. These memories are important, beta. They will stay with you."
Vaani's chest warmed. "Yes, Maa. They really will."
There was a pause, and then Mahesh said softly, "And we're happy Dhruv had you with him. He may not say much, but I know he must have enjoyed himself because you were there."
Vaani felt her cheeks heat again. "Papa..." she murmured shyly.
"Arre, it's true!" Jaya laughed. "He's his father's son after all—serious face, serious tone, but the heart is soft."
They all chuckled together, the sound weaving through the quiet of Vaani's kitchen like a blanket of warmth.
As the conversation went on, they drifted to other topics—Jaya's latest recipes, Mahesh's chess games with neighbors, updates on extended family. Vaani listened, chimed in, and felt her morning transform into something far more meaningful than she had expected when she first woke up.
Her chai was long finished, but she stayed at the table, phone cradled between her hands, letting the comfort of her in-laws' voices fill her morning.
For the first time in weeks, she wasn't rushing. She wasn't torn between deadlines and obligations. She was simply present—sharing, laughing, remembering. And that in itself was a rare luxury.
"Arre Vaani," Jaya's voice came through brightly, "about the reception—when do you think we can do it? We were thinking this month end. What do you say?"
Vaani adjusted the phone against her table, Jaya's face smiling through the screen. "Yeah Maa, that's fine. No problem at all. End of the month works."
"Perfect," Jaya said, sounding satisfied. "I was telling Mahesh yesterday only, we shouldn't delay too much. People have been asking us, 'When is the reception, when will we get to bless the couple?' Now finally we can give them a date."
Vaani chuckled softly. "That's true."
"Ideas khup aahe manaat (I have a lot of ideas in my head)," Jaya continued eagerly.
"I was thinking of booking the hotel banquet in the city center—the one near Palm.
You know those? They do such lovely décor.
White lilies and golden drapes, very classy, not too over the top.
And the food—we can do a mix of Maharashtrian and continental so that everyone is happy. "
"Haan, that sounds really nice, Maa," Vaani said warmly.
"And I was also thinking," Jaya carried on, her voice growing more animated, "for you, we should go for a lehenga that's rich but elegant.
Maybe a deep wine red or emerald green, something that will complement your skin tone.
Or even a saree if okay, whichever you're comfortable in.
Don't worry, I'll come with you for shopping if Dhruv is too busy.
And Dhruv, of course, should wear a tailored sherwani, something sharp, maybe in ivory or beige. You two will look like a royal pair."
Vaani smiled lightly, a little embarrassed but touched. "Maa, you've thought of everything already."
"Of course!" Jaya replied proudly. "It's my son's reception, and you're my daughter now.
I want it to be perfect. And I was telling your Papa, we'll invite not just family, but also Dhruv's business associates.
It'll be a good networking opportunity as well.
And for entertainment, I was thinking of keeping it subtle—maybe a live ghazal singer first before a loud DJ.
Classy and graceful, yet modern and loud, you know? "
"Yes, Maa," Vaani said softly, listening with genuine admiration. "It sounds wonderful."
"Bas, you don't worry about anything," Jaya assured her. "Just be there, look beautiful, and smile. The rest we'll handle."
Vaani's heart warmed. "Thank you, Maa."
"Arre, why thank you? You're our own now," Jaya said lovingly. "This reception will be as much for you as for Dhruv. People should see how perfect you both are together."
Vaani bit back a shy smile, her voice dropping. "You're too sweet, Maa."
"And Papa is nodding here," Jaya added with a laugh. "He's pretending not to care, but he's already making lists of who to invite."
"I'm only making sure we don't forget anyone," Mahesh's amused voice chimed in.
All three smiled together, the conversation flowing easily, the plans for the reception beginning to take shape in Vaani's mind like a painting slowly being filled in with colors.
Vaani finally ended the call with Jaya and Mahesh, her in-laws, still smiling faintly at Jaya's animated voice ringing in her ears.
Reception planning, lehengas, food menus—Maa had already built a whole vision in her mind.
Vaani leaned back in her chair, staring for a moment at the sunlight spilling across the wooden-plated floor.
Then she thought of her own parents—her Aai and Baba. It had been a few days since she had spoken to them properly. She missed them, their steady comfort, their fussing over little details of her life. Without overthinking, she scrolled down to Aai and pressed call.
"Vaani!" Her mother's delighted voice answered almost immediately. "Arey? You finally called!"
Vaani's lips curved into a smile at the familiar tone. "Aai, I called two days ago also!"
"Two days is long," Sunita declared, as if that ended the matter.
From the background, her father's steady baritone chimed in. "Arre, let the girl breathe, Sunita. Vaani, beta, how are you?"
"I'm good, Baba. How are you both?"
"We're fine," Ramesh replied, the sound of a newspaper rustling in the background. "So tell us—how was Scotland, how was your trip? Your Aai has been waiting for the full story."
"Ah, don't start," Sunita interjected. "I told her already that she must tell me everything."
Vaani laughed, warmed by the sound of her parents fussing over her from afar. "It was beautiful, Aai. Scotland was like... out of a dream. The Highlands, the little cottages, the cold air—everything was so different from here. Dhruv really liked it too."
"Hmm," Sunita hummed approvingly. "And Oxford? I saw your photos outside that big library, the one with the dome..."
"The Radcliffe Camera," Vaani supplied. "It was stunning. We even went inside some of the colleges. And Aai, you won't believe it—in Scotland, we met Aria and Aditya there! Completely by chance."
Her mother gasped in delight. "Aria? Tujhi Oxford waali friend?" (Your Oxford friend?)
"Yes," Vaani said, smiling as she remembered. "We spent an entire evening together, catching up. It was so nice. Aditya and Dhruv got along too."
"Wah re," Sunita said. "How nice. I'm happy you had such a good time."
Before Vaani could reply, another voice cut in from behind her parents. "Brooo, didi!"
She recognized the unmistakable energy in the tone instantly. "Vihaan!" she exclaimed, her heart softening at the sight of her younger brother appearing behind her parents on the video screen.
He grinned, his boyish face lit up with excitement. "Didi, I'm starting to get excited now. Columbia is actually happening! Just a few months left!"
Vaani's breath caught for a second, her mind flickering instantly to Dhruv's favor the day before—how he had, without a second thought, paid Vihaan's entire fees.
She swallowed, her heart clenching at the thought of that silent generosity.
She couldn't tell Vihaan yet. Not now. She wanted him to just feel the thrill of his dream without worrying about finances.
So instead, she smiled brightly. "Of course, Vihu! You should be excited. Columbia is amazing—you'll love the campus, the city, everything. Imagine—you'll be walking through New York streets in just a few months!"
Vihaan's grin widened, his eyes sparkling. "I know! I've been watching campus vlogs, checking out student clubs, even the library photos—it's insane! I can't wait."
Her chest filled with affection. "You'll do so well there, Vihaan. I'm so proud of you."
He ducked his head, pretending to brush it off, though his grin gave him away. "Arre, Didi!"
She chuckled, her heart lighter.
Then another head popped into the frame, calm where Vedant was energetic. "Didi."
"Vedant!" Vaani said, smiling again. "Look at both my boys here."
Vedant leaned against the back of their parents' sofa, his tone more measured than Vihaan's. "I was just going to tell Aai and Baba—I'm finalizing between LSE and Imperial now."
Vaani's brows rose. "LSE or Imperial?"
"Yes," Vedant nodded. "Both have strong programs. I've spoken to a few alumni too. I'm leaning more toward LSE, but I'll finalize soon."
Vaani tilted her head, her voice softening. "You won't leave London, will you?"
A rare smile tugged at Vedant's lips, subtle but certain. "Nope. I'll stay in London."
Vaani let out a small chuckle, warmth rushing through her. "Good. I like that."
Sunita looked from one child to the other on screen, pride brimming in her eyes. "Look at my three children," she said, "all grown up, all flying so high."
Ramesh, behind his newspaper, muttered, "And all expensive too."
That made all of them laugh.
Then Vihaan leaned forward again, his grin mischievous. "Okay, didi, enough about us. Tell us about you! Your honeymoon! Did you go sightseeing? Did you eat fancy food? Or did Jiju just drag you into boring business talks?"
Vaani burst out laughing. "Vihaan!"
Vedant's lips quirked. "He has a point though. We want details."
"Yes," Sunita added eagerly. "Tell them, Vaani."
Shaking her head, Vaani indulged them. She described the misty Highland mornings, the cobblestone streets of Oxford, the dinners by the river. She painted them pictures of the landscapes, the laughter she had shared with Aria, the quiet moments with Dhruv.
Vihaan whistled dramatically. "Wow, so you're living the dream, huh?"
"Something like that," Vaani replied, smiling softly.
"And," Vedant asked casually, "our stuff?"
"Arre, haan!" Vihaan jumped in before she could answer. "You promised you'd get us things, didi! Where are they? Don't think we forgot."
Vaani chuckled, shaking her head. "I didn't forget. I got everything you asked for. Vedant, your Hogwarts hoodie and that set of books you wanted. Vihaan, your watch strap and the formal tie set. All packed and waiting."
Their faces lit up.
"See, I told you she wouldn't forget," Vedant said with quiet satisfaction.
Vihaan grinned. "Didi, you're the best. When are you giving them to us?"
"Whenever we meet next," Vaani said. "Don't worry, they're safe with me."
"Arre wah," Sunita said, her voice proud and teasing at once. "Not just a good daughter, but a good sister too."
"Of course," Ramesh agreed. "That's our Vaani."
Vaani's throat grew tight for a second, hearing the affection in their voices. She smiled through it, nodding. "Always."
The chatter continued, easy and familiar, her parents and brothers filling the space around her with their voices. For a while, the loneliness of the quiet morning disappeared completely.
The house felt strangely silent once the call with her parents and brothers ended. Their voices had filled her morning with warmth, laughter, and familiarity—but now, as soon as the call screen went black, the quietness around her seemed to grow louder.
Vaani sat for a few minutes at the dining table, tapping her nails lightly against her chai cup, staring into nothing in particular.
She had never been someone who liked doing nothing.
Ever since her teenage years, she had always been balancing things—college assignments, part-time work, household chores, later her career projects, and of course, the second job she had taken on for Vedant and Vihaan.
Now, for the first time in years, she had hours stretched out in front of her with no urgent deadlines to run after. And she didn't know what to do with them.
Her thoughts circled restlessly. What should I do now?
She stood up, walked to the living room, sat down on the sofa, then stood again after barely two minutes.
She wandered toward the balcony, stood there staring at the faint shimmer of heat over the street outside, then turned back inside.
It was almost comical—the way she moved about the house like a restless child searching for something to occupy herself with.
Her gaze eventually drifted to the coffee table where her phone lay.
Social media. She hadn't really thought about it in days.
With everything going on—work, Dhruv, the big confrontation about her second job—her phone had mostly been a device for calls and emails.
But now, the idea of going through her travel photos tugged at her.
She picked it up and unlocked the screen.
Her gallery opened to hundreds of pictures from the honeymoon: Scotland's sweeping landscapes, moody grey skies, cobbled Oxford streets, warm cafes, Aria and Aditya's smiles.
She had been posting little snippets along the way, but she hadn't shared all of them.
There were still dozens of moments left untouched.
"Maybe I should post the rest," she murmured to herself. At least it would keep her busy for a while.
She began scrolling, picking out her favorite shots.
A soft smile tugged at her lips as she carefully lined up a few: the moors in Isle of Skye, her hands curled around a steaming cup of tea in a small inn, a candid of Aria laughing with her head thrown back.
She added them to her Instagram stories one by one, typing little captions.
Scotland, where the skies touch the sea. Oxford evenings.
Her thumb paused mid-scroll when she landed on that picture.
It was a photograph Aria had taken in Isle of Skye, on a cliff overlooking the vast sea.
Dhruv stood tall beside her, his hands on her waist, the wind tugging at his hair.
She herself had been caught mid-smile, looking at him.
The background was breathtaking—the sweep of ocean meeting sky—but what made the picture special was something else entirely.
It was the way Dhruv had been caught looking at her. Not with a smile, not even with a playful expression. Just a quiet, intent gaze. Focused. Almost... protective.
Vaani's fingers lingered on the screen.
Should I post this?
The question immediately tangled her in hesitation. On one hand, it was a beautiful memory. Aria had insisted it was her favorite shot of them both. But Dhruv wasn't like her. He wasn't someone who lived life out loud on social media. He kept to himself, his circle tight, his presence minimal.
Would he like it if she posted something like this? Would he feel awkward—thrown into the public eye without his say?
Her thumb hovered over the "Add to Story" button. She bit her lip.
And then another thought crashed into her. No one even knows I'm married.
She hadn't posted about the wedding, hadn't uploaded a single picture in bridal attire, hadn't written any caption announcing "Mrs. Deshmukh." It wasn't intentional—life had simply been a blur since the wedding. But now the realization struck her.
Her friends, her old college mates, her acquaintances on social media—none of them had seen anything official from her side.
The only ones who might have pieced it together would be mutuals with Ria, who had posted.
Aria had tagged her in one picture too, from the Scotland dinner.
Anyone paying close attention would know. But Vaani herself hadn't said anything.
So if she posted this picture—the one of her and Dhruv on the Isle of Skye—there would be questions. DMs. Congratulatory messages. Curious people wanting details.
The thought made her heart thump uncomfortably.
Do I want that right now? Do I want people asking about us when even we... we're still figuring things out?
Her throat tightened. She could picture Dhruv's face if he found out she had posted it without asking. He wouldn't shout—he never did. But he'd look at her in that silent, unreadable way of his, the kind of look that made her squirm.
"No," she whispered aloud, shaking her head. "Not yet."
She took a breath and decided: she wouldn't post until she had a green light from him. She wanted to respect that boundary, even if it meant hiding a picture she herself loved.
Instead, she scrolled back and selected a safer choice—the group picture from Scotland. Aria and Aditya stood beside them, all four smiling into the camera outside a restaurant by the river.
She posted that instead, captioning it simply: Good times with old friends.
No controversy. No explanations required. Just a normal picture of four people enjoying a trip.
She set her phone down on the table afterward, exhaling as if she had just made a major decision.
The house was still quiet, the air still heavy with the silence of empty rooms. Her eyes swept over the living room: cushions slightly crooked, a fine layer of dust on the coffee table, a stack of unopened letters near the entryway.
She pursed her lips. "Cleaning it is."
If there was one thing she knew about herself, it was this: when boredom struck, when emotions got tangled, when thoughts refused to settle, she found peace in movement. Cleaning, organizing, putting things in order—it gave her restless hands something to do.
Rolling up her sleeves, Vaani set to work.
She straightened the cushions, dusted the table, sorted through the letters.
As she moved from one corner to another, her thoughts gradually began to still.
The physical rhythm of the tasks steadied her, pulling her out of the spiral of what-ifs and maybes.
Her body moved, her mind loosened. And slowly, the house began to gleam under her touch, the silence filling not with restlessness but with a strange, calming sense of purpose.
For the first time since morning, Vaani felt like she had reclaimed her day.
~·~
The soft hum of the central AC filled the silence of Dhruv's office, blending with the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall. His desk, large and orderly, was spread with neatly stacked files, his leather planner open at the day's schedule, and his laptop pushed slightly to the side.
On the screen of his phone, a single notification blinked: Deal Secured.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.
The confidential deal that had consumed his focus for weeks—late nights, endless negotiations, back-and-forth drafts, risk analyses—was finally done.
Signed. Sealed. His client had just given the final approval, and with that, a weight he hadn't even realized had been pressing on his shoulders lifted.
For the first time in days, Dhruv allowed himself a small, rare smile. He was happy—not the loud, boisterous kind of happiness he saw in others, but a deep, inward relief. A job well done.
He reached for the glass of water on his desk, sipped, and set it back down. His mind, usually efficient at moving from one task to another, lingered strangely. Halfway through savoring his success, another thought crept in uninvited.
Wonder what she's doing right now.
The thought startled him. He rarely let personal matters intrude during office hours. But the image of Vaani in their home, perhaps in the kitchen with her hair tied up, or curled on the sofa with her phone, slipped in before he could push it away.
Should I call her?
He frowned, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk.
It wasn't as though there was a need. She wasn't expecting him to check in.
They didn't have that kind of routine. Their marriage was still new, still wrapped in quiet boundaries and cautious steps.
A phone call from him in the middle of the day would come as a surprise.
Still, the thought wouldn't leave.
Almost without realizing it, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to his contacts. Her number was saved simply as Vaani Deshmukh. His thumb hovered over the screen.
He stared at the name for a few long seconds, the words looking both unfamiliar and strangely grounding. His wife. His. The fact was still settling into his mind, piece by piece.
Before he could overthink further, his thumb pressed the dial button. The ringing tone buzzed in his ear. One ring. Two. Three.
She answered on the fourth.
"Hello?" Her voice was soft, tinged with surprise. Then a quick shift: "Hi, is everything okay?"
For some reason, her immediate concern made his lips twitch upward. "Yes," he said, his tone steady but faintly amused. "All fine. Just... asking you what's up."
There was a small pause on her end, as though she hadn't expected that. Then, "Oh. Nothing, really."
He hummed, low and thoughtful. "Hmm."
Silence stretched for a second, not heavy but tentative, like both were waiting for the other to continue. Then she filled it, her voice tentative. "How are you?"
"I'm good," he said, his words calm but carrying a quiet satisfaction. "Just secured a deal."
The reaction on the other end was instant. "Yayyy!" she exclaimed, genuine excitement ringing in her tone. "Congrats!"
The corners of his mouth curved, an amused thought crossing his mind. She didn't even know what the deal was, how big or small—but she cheered for him without hesitation. Her joy sounded unfiltered, like a child's, and it tugged at something unfamiliar in him.
Her voice softened quickly, almost self-conscious. "I mean... yeah. Good job."
He chuckled under his breath, though he didn't let it fully escape. "Thank you."
There was a pause, then he added, "You didn't go to work today."
"Vo..." she hesitated, as though caught. "My new project doesn't start until next week. And I finished the basics, so I didn't need to go in."
"Damn," he muttered, leaning back. "Alright."
Another stretch of silence followed. This one lingered longer, but oddly, he didn't feel the need to cut it short. For once, silence between them didn't feel awkward—it felt... steady.
Then her voice came, quieter. "What do you want for lunch today?"
The question hit him unexpectedly. His chest gave a strange jolt, a flutter he hadn't felt in years.
It was such a simple thing—a wife asking her husband what he'd like for lunch.
Yet he had seen it happen in countless homes, in his married friends' lives, and never thought about it.
But now, hearing it directed at him—his own wife asking—it stirred something almost tender.
He forced composure back into his tone. "Anything you like."
"Dhruv," she insisted softly. "Decide na."
He blinked at the phone, bemused. The thought struck him suddenly: if he told her to cook something, she'd get busy, maybe tired, spending her day in the kitchen. The very thing he had asked her not to do.
So he cleared his throat and replied, "Don't make anything. Just order in and relax. I don't mind pizza."
There was a pause, then her voice, lighter: "Okay."
"The number is saved on the landline," he added, slipping back into his practical tone. "Call from there. He's my regular. He knows the drill."
"Alright," she said.
"Good."
Silence lingered again, softer this time, almost like a cushion between them.
Then she spoke, hesitant. "I... I'll let you work now. See you."
"Yeah," he murmured. "See you soon. Bye."
"Bye."
He cut the call, lowering the phone slowly, his reflection glinting in the black screen for a moment.
Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved again. A faint, amused smile tugged at his face, private and fleeting. He shook his head, almost at himself.
~·~
The clock in Dhruv's car read 2:27 pm as he turned into the driveway.
He hadn't planned to come home this early, but the day's schedule had lightened once the big deal wrapped up in the morning.
For once, he didn't feel the need to fill every hour with meetings.
Something in him wanted to step away, to come. ... Home.
He stepped out, adjusting his blazer against the afternoon warmth, and unlocked the front door.
The moment he entered, he paused.
The house looked—immaculate. The cushions on the sofa were arranged so precisely that not a corner was out of place. The glass-topped coffee table gleamed as if freshly polished. Not a speck of dust lingered anywhere in the living room, and the faint smell of lemon-scented cleaner hung in the air.
It was so tidy it almost looked like a show home.
He blinked once, then twice.
"Vaani?" he called, his baritone voice echoing slightly against the quiet.
No reply.
He frowned, walking further in, his eyes scanning the hallway, the kitchen entrance, the study door slightly ajar. Silence. The place was spotless, but she was nowhere in sight.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call her, when the front door clicked open behind him.
He turned, and there she was.
Vaani stepped in, wearing dark gym leggings and a light tank top, her hair tied up high but slightly frizzed around her face. A water bottle swung from one hand, her cheeks flushed from exertion, and a light sheen of sweat glistened at her temples.
She froze when she saw him standing in the middle of the living room. "Oh—Dhruv. You're back?"
His gaze lingered a moment longer than he intended before he replied simply, "Yeah. Got done early."
"Oh." She blinked, adjusting the bottle in her grip. "I—I'm sorry I wasn't here. I just—uh—I found the gym nearby and thought I'd check it out. I wasn't gone long, only about an hour, and—"
She kept going, her words tumbling over each other, explanations spilling faster than she probably realized.
His brows drew together, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. "Vaani."
She stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking nervously up at him.
"It's fine," he said, cutting off her worry with a single steady phrase.
"Oh." Relief flickered across her face, softening her posture. "Okay."
He studied her for another second before shifting topics. "Have you eaten?"
Her lips parted, and she shook her head. "No. I was waiting for you."
Something tightened in his chest. A knot. A strange pull at the simple idea of someone waiting for him—not a client, not an employee, not an associate—her.
He straightened slightly, suppressing the odd flutter and nodding casually. "Alright. Get comfortable. I'll heat these."
She immediately waved her free hand. "No, no, I'll do it. You must be tired from work."
"Vaani." His tone dropped, quiet but firm. His eyes swept over her flushed face, the damp strands of hair sticking to her skin. "You're sweating. Go change and get comfortable. I got this."
Her shoulders slumped in surrender, and she gave a small nod. "Okay."
She slipped past him, heading toward the bedroom, and disappeared inside.
Dhruv exhaled, loosening his blazer and tugging it off. He set it neatly on the back of a chair, then rolled up the sleeves of his crisp shirt before unbuttoning it halfway. A few moments later, he changed into track pants and a plain black T-shirt, preferring the ease at home.
In the kitchen, he pulled out the pizza box she must've ordered earlier from his regular guy, exactly as he had told her.
He heated the slices in the oven, set out plates, and poured two glasses of chilled water.
The small, ordinary domestic act was almost foreign to him, but he carried it out with quiet efficiency, as if it were second nature.
By the time he was setting the plates on the dining table, the sound of soft footsteps reached him.
He looked up.
Vaani emerged from the hallway, fresh from a shower. Her damp hair was combed back, a loose strand falling near her cheek. She had changed into pale cotton shorts and a simple top, her face free of makeup, her skin carrying the fresh glow of water.
She slowed when she saw him at the table—his blazer gone, dressed down in track pants and a tee, sleeves pushed up, moving with calm focus as though he'd done this a thousand times.
For a moment, her expression softened into something unreadable.
He caught her gaze, raised a brow. "Come."
She walked closer, glancing at the table neatly set with plates, pizza slices arranged, glasses placed just right. "You... set everything?"
"Hmm," he said, pulling a chair out slightly as if to tell her without words to sit.
She bit back a small smile and obeyed.
Dhruv sat opposite, sliding a plate toward her. "Eat."
Her fingers brushed the edge of the plate, the warmth of the food seeping into her. For a second, she stared at the simple setup, the sight of him across from her, casual, at ease.
The house had been spotless when he came home, yes. But right now, in this moment, she realized it felt even fuller—with him here, sharing something as ordinary as pizza.
The clink of cutlery against plates broke the silence of the dining room. The late afternoon sun streamed in through the sheer curtains, filling the space with a warm glow that softened the sharp lines of the furniture.
Dhruv leaned back slightly in his chair, his plate half-finished. Across the table, Vaani picked at her slice of pizza, chewing thoughtfully.
His eyes swept the spotless living room visible from where he sat. After a moment, he said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of amusement, "You made this house look like a show house."
Her head snapped up, eyes widening slightly. "Oh—I... I was a bit bored," she admitted quickly, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
He raised a brow, lips curving the faintest bit. "Free time doesn't suit you, does it?"
"No, no." She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I liked it. I liked being able to do what I want to do instead of what I have to do."
"So you wanted to make this house look like a show house?" His voice was straight, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes.
Her cheeks colored faintly as she dropped her gaze to her plate.
He let the silence linger for a beat, then added, softer, "Relax. I was kidding."
Her shoulders eased, and she gave a little laugh, almost shy. "Right."
They ate in quiet for a few more moments before she spoke again, as though testing the waters. "Vo... I found the gym. It was in some empty room. And no one was inside, so I just went there."
He nodded once, noncommittal but attentive.
Encouraged, she continued. "I also called Maa."
His eyes lifted to hers. "Hmm."
"They're hosting the reception soon," she said, her tone brightening. "She mentioned what we wear and all."
Dhruv's mouth curved the slightest bit as he muttered, "Typical Maa. Overplanning everything."
A soft chuckle escaped Vaani before she covered her mouth with her hand.
"And then," she added, "I also called Aai."
He gave the same steady acknowledgment. "Hmm."
"They were asking about Scotland," she said, her tone softening with nostalgia. "So I told them everything. About the places, the weather, all of it."
"That's nice," he replied simply.
She hesitated, then added, "Vedant is deciding between LSE and Imperial now."
Dhruv set his fork down, leaning back slightly. "Interesting. Where is he inclining?"
She tilted her head, brow furrowed. "I don't know yet."
A brief silence passed before she leaned forward, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Where do you think he should go?"
His gaze held hers for a moment, serious. "Undergrad doesn't matter much if he's going for postgrad. But still, I'd say LSE. It has a better name."
"Hmmm. Acha." She nodded, as though filing it away.
The table fell into quiet again, the only sounds the muted hum of the AC and the faint scrape of cutlery. But Vaani couldn't keep still for long.
"My friend called, Ria," she blurted suddenly, almost as though it had slipped out before she could stop herself.
He glanced at her, one brow raised, but didn't speak. Just waited.
Encouraged by his attention, she kept going. "She was asking how married life is. I didn't know what to say, so I told her about the trip and how Oxford was beautiful. She said her fiancé wanted to come back too but couldn't manage leave. Oh she's getting married in one and a half months."
Dhruv's lips quirked slightly, more in amusement than anything else.
"And then," she continued, her tone warming as her hands gestured lightly, "I got a message from another friend—Shreya.
She was so shocked when she found out about the wedding from Ria's story.
I told her I'll explain everything when we meet.
I think she felt a little left out, but I just..
. I couldn't tell everyone beforehand, na. "
He listened quietly, his expression steady but his eyes intent.
She kept going, filling the silence with her chatter. "Oh, and my cousin messaged too. She said the Isle of Skye pictures looked like they were from a postcard. I told her it was even better in real life, though she didn't believe me. She wants me to send more."
Her voice softened, almost unconsciously. "I didn't post all the pictures. I was... waiting."
He caught the slight hesitation in her tone but didn't press. Instead, he leaned his elbow on the table, his eyes fixed on her as she rambled on.
She updated him about calls, messages, tiny details that others might dismiss as mundane. And through it all, Dhruv sat quietly, listening.
Something strange stirred in him as he watched her talk animatedly across the table. He wasn't used to it—someone filling his silences, sharing the little nothings of their day as though they mattered.
But with her, in this quiet home, over a simple meal, he found himself liking it.
A new feeling, foreign yet oddly grounding, settled in his chest.
~·~
The afternoon light had mellowed, shadows lengthening across the floor. He pulled open the wardrobe, exchanged his track pants for a pair of darker gym shorts, and tugged on a fitted tee.
When he stepped out again, Vaani was wiping down the dining table, humming faintly under her breath. She glanced up when she noticed him.
"I'm going to go to the gym," he said, his voice even.
She nodded quickly. "Okay."
That was all. No protest, no questions. Just that soft acknowledgment.
He left the house, cutting across the hallway until he reached the farthest corner. The gym was tucked away deliberately, its entrance almost blending into the wall. Few even knew it existed inside the house. Those who did knew better than to step in.
He pushed open the door.
The familiar smell of rubber mats and faint detergent greeted him, the quiet hum of the air conditioning filling the otherwise silent space. His gym. His sanctuary. The one place he allowed no one else to disturb.
The equipment gleamed in its usual order: dumbbells stacked neatly, treadmills lined against the mirrored wall, resistance machines in perfect alignment. Nothing out of place.
And yet—he paused.
Today, she had been here.
He closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the handle. His brow furrowed slightly as the thought pressed into his mind.
Why didn't I get angry?
It was his rule. Everyone knew it. The gym was his. His space. He didn't like sharing it, didn't like anyone meddling with his order, his rhythm. Even the house staff never stepped inside without his permission.
But when Vaani had walked in earlier, breathless from her workout, casually admitting she'd used the gym — his gym, he hadn't reacted. Not even a flicker of irritation.
He frowned, walking slowly across the mat. His shoes thudded softly against the padded floor.
By all logic, he should've been upset. He should've told her clearly: This is my space. Don't use it again.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he'd listened. Watched her stumble over explanations, trying to justify why she'd gone there. He'd noticed the way her cheeks flushed—not just from exercise but from nervousness, from bracing herself for his response.
And what had he done? He'd let it go. Just nodded.
He stopped in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection. His jaw tightened slightly.
Why didn't I react?
It wasn't weakness. He knew himself well enough to dismiss that thought. He wasn't afraid of confrontation. He'd never allowed exceptions to his rules.
Except today.
His hands flexed at his sides. Maybe it was because she hadn't meant to intrude. Maybe because she'd said the room was empty, that no one else was there.
Or maybe—his thoughts slowed—it was because it was her.
Vaani.
His wife, who'd looked so relieved when he told her it was fine. Who'd smiled with that faint trace of surprise, as though she hadn't expected leniency from him.
He drew a long breath, his chest expanding with the familiar rhythm of control. Still, his mind lingered on the same unshaken truth.
Why didn't I react at her using it?
Because deep down, he realized, the idea of her being here hadn't unsettled him.
It had felt... natural.
??