46
The morning sun filtered in through the curtains, filling the apartment with a soft golden glow.
Vaani stretched as she sat up in bed, the sound of the city faint but steady outside the windows.
It was her first day stepping back into office after the short lull between projects, and for some reason, she felt a sense of anticipation bubbling in her chest.
She slipped out of bed, tied her hair loosely, and padded to the bathroom.
The hot shower cleared the last remnants of sleep from her mind.
She stood there for a moment longer, letting the water run over her, grounding herself in the routine.
When she finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she felt lighter, fresher, ready.
Her wardrobe was simple and practical, but she picked her clothes with a certain care this morning—a pale blue top, pressed neatly, and a pair of black formal pants that fit comfortably yet professionally.
She brushed out her long hair, letting it fall loose across her shoulders, natural waves catching the light.
Her gaze fell on the small chain resting on the dressing table.
She picked it up and clasped it around her neck.
The tiny black beads of the mangalsutra lay delicately against her skin, just below her collarbone.
Vaani touched it absentmindedly, not with dramatic reverence but with a soft acknowledgment—it was there, it was hers, a part of her now.
Before leaving, she stepped into the small Devghar tucked into a quiet corner of the living room. She lit the diya, folded her hands, and closed her eyes.
"Deva, sagla changla hovu de," she whispered softly. (God, let everything go well.)
It wasn't a long prayer, not even formal, but it was enough to center her. She opened her eyes, and with one last glance at the idols, stepped out.
Keys in hand, she locked the front door behind her, twisting the key twice out of habit. The empty house echoed for a moment in her ears, and she stood there, listening. She let out a small sigh, then turned briskly and made her way down to the car park.
Sliding into the driver's seat, she placed her bag beside her and started the engine. The familiar hum of the car soothed her as she adjusted the mirror and steered out of the parking lot.
The roads were busy, as they always were in the morning, but Vaani had grown used to navigating the flow of traffic. She kept one hand steady on the wheel while the other tapped rhythmically on the steering, her mind flitting to and fro.
For a second, her gaze flickered toward her phone lying on the passenger seat. She thought about him. Dhruv.
Should I text him?
The thought appeared suddenly, like an unexpected visitor.
She bit her lip, considering. Maybe just a "Good morning" or "Hope your day goes well.
" Nothing heavy. But then she hesitated.
He was in Cairo, probably already at work, buried under meetings and files.
Would it distract him? Or worse—would it look like she was waiting on him too much?
Her grip tightened slightly on the wheel. She wasn't someone who hovered. She had her own work, her own life, her own schedule. Maybe after she reached office, after she settled in, she could send something small. Something casual.
She nodded to herself as if sealing the thought and turned her eyes back to the road.
The drive wasn't long, but it gave her space to think. With Dhruv away, she realized her life was quieter, yes, but she also had room to focus again—on her projects, her goals, her own identity outside of being someone's wife or daughter or sister.
By the time she pulled into the office parking lot, the lingering indecision had dissolved into a quiet hum of excitement. She parked neatly, switched off the engine, and took a deep breath.
Work. She had missed it.
Clutching her bag, she stepped out, heels clicking lightly against the pavement as she crossed to the main building.
Her office towered above, sleek glass and steel reflecting the morning sky.
She had always felt a certain pride walking through those doors—pride in knowing she was contributing, that she was part of something bigger, that her ideas and hours translated into tangible results.
As she entered the familiar lobby, a rush of energy swept through her.
She smiled at the receptionist, nodded at a colleague passing by, and walked toward the elevator.
Inside, as the doors closed, she caught her own reflection in the polished walls—calm, steady, professional, but with a hint of eagerness in her eyes.
The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. She stepped out, heading straight toward her department.
Her desk was where she had left it—organized, with her files stacked neatly, her pen holder untouched. She set her bag down, pulled out her laptop, and settled into her chair.
There it was: the fresh project brief. She skimmed through it, her eyes darting across the details, and an involuntary smile tugged at her lips.
It was interesting, layered, challenging in all the right ways.
She could already see where she'd pour her energy, how she'd approach it, how she could bring her ideas alive in this.
The air around her felt lighter. The heaviness of the past weeks, the constant balancing act of two jobs, the financial worries, the tug of family responsibilities—it all seemed a little distant now.
For the first time in a while, she could just..
. focus. Focus on the work she loved, without the nagging guilt of whether she was neglecting something else.
Vaani leaned back in her chair, stretched her arms above her head, and exhaled.
This. This feels good.
She pulled her hair behind her ears, fingers brushing against the chain of her mangalsutra again. It glinted faintly against her skin, a small reminder of the life she had stepped into. But right now, she felt steady. She had her footing.
And as she opened a fresh document to start jotting ideas, she thought faintly of her phone resting in her bag.
Maybe after a little while, when she'd typed out a few pages, she'd send that text to Dhruv. Something simple. A "Good morning." A piece of her day extended toward his.
But for now, her heart belonged to this new project, this new chapter, this fresh sense of ease that came from knowing—just for today—she didn't have to juggle anything else.
The hum of office life filled the air as Vaani stepped into her work area.
The familiar scent of coffee drifting from the pantry, the low murmur of voices, the tapping of keyboards—it all wrapped around her like a rhythm she had missed.
She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked through the open layout, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
Almost immediately, heads turned.
"Vaani!" someone called out from the far end.
She smiled, raising her hand in a small wave. A group of her colleagues stood up from their desks, grinning wide.
"Welcome back, madam!" one of them teased.
Another added dramatically, "First honeymoon, then work-from-home... it feels like it's been forever since we saw you!"
The group chuckled together, the warm camaraderie filling the space.
Vaani laughed too, shaking her head lightly. "Arre, come on, it wasn't that long. But I'm here now!" she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Finally," someone piped up from the design team. "We were starting to wonder if you had forgotten us completely."
"I wouldn't dare," she teased back, her voice playful.
They surrounded her for a minute, asking quick questions—how was she, how was Dubai treating her, how was married life. Vaani answered politely, keeping it light, offering smiles and laughter in return. She felt a little shy at the attention but also deeply welcomed.
Her workspace had been left untouched—a neat desk tucked into a bright corner, sunlight spilling over the wooden surface. She set her bag down, carefully placing her water bottle and notebook.
Just then, her co-manager, Anita Mehra, walked up. Anita was in her early forties, sharp-eyed but warm, with a knack for balancing authority and encouragement in equal measure. She smiled as she approached Vaani.
"Ah, finally back," Anita said, extending a hand in mock formality. "On behalf of NestForm Studios, welcome to civilization."
Vaani laughed, shaking her hand. "Feels good to be back, Anita."
"Good," Anita said, her tone brisk now, though her eyes held a friendly twinkle. "Come on, let's get you caught up. We've got a big project on our hands."
The rest of the team gave knowing looks, murmuring things like "biggest one yet" and "oh, you'll love this."
Vaani followed Anita into the glass-walled conference room, laptop in hand. A few other colleagues trailed in as well, ready for the morning briefing. They settled into chairs, notebooks open, pens poised.
Anita stood at the head of the table, clicking a remote. The screen behind her lit up with a presentation slide titled: Al Noor Residences – Interior Design Master Plan.
Vaani leaned forward, curiosity sparking instantly.
"This," Anita began, her voice carrying a quiet excitement, "is our newest and biggest contract this quarter.
Al Noor Residences—luxury high-rise apartments being developed in Jumeirah.
The developers have brought us in to design not just the model flats but also the community areas—lobbies, lounges, recreation spaces, and even a rooftop deck. "
The slide changed, showing glossy renderings of the proposed building. Sleek glass, warm interiors, expansive layouts.
"Our task," Anita continued, "is to create an identity. Something modern, functional, but with a strong cultural thread—something that appeals to both local buyers and international investors."
She clicked again, bringing up key timelines. "We're on a tight schedule. First concepts need to be ready in six weeks. Which means ideation begins today."
Vaani scribbled quick notes, her designer's mind already racing. She thought about textures, palettes, themes. Maybe muted sands and desert tones with bold jewel accents. Perhaps an interplay of glass and carved wood. She could almost see it forming in her head.
Anita's eyes fell on her. "Vaani, you'll be taking lead on the model flat interiors. Your style is contemporary but rooted—that's exactly the blend they're asking for. We'll have Ramesh assist you with 3D modeling, and Anika will handle material sourcing."
Vaani blinked, slightly surprised but pleased. "Understood," she said, nodding confidently.
"Good." Anita scanned the room. "The rest of you will divide tasks—community spaces, lobbies, rooftop. But make sure you coordinate. This project needs a consistent voice."
There was a murmur of agreement. Someone asked about budgets, another about client meetings. Anita answered with precision, fielding questions swiftly.
When the meeting wrapped up, Anita paused, looking back at Vaani. "Glad you're here for this one. We need your touch."
Vaani smiled. "I'm excited too. Thank you."
Back at her desk, she opened her laptop, pulling up mood boards and old references. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, dragging textures, colors, ideas into neat digital folders. She could feel the energy around her—colleagues buzzing with tasks, printers whirring, sketches being passed around.
But for her, the screen glowed like a canvas. A fresh start. A chance to prove herself again.
As she worked, her mind occasionally drifted—an image of Dhruv flashed in her thoughts. What would he say if he saw her now? Focused, sleeves rolled up, fully immersed in her element. Would he even imagine her like this, outside the role of wife, in her zone as a designer?
Her hand absentmindedly brushed against the chain at her neck. She smiled faintly to herself and shook her head, pulling her focus back to the mood board.
At one point, Aisha, a colleague, leaned over from the desk nearby. "So? First day back and you're already drowning in work?"
"Not drowning," Vaani said with a chuckle. "Swimming. There's a difference."
"Same thing," Aisha teased, grinning.
"No," Vaani replied with mock seriousness. "Swimming means I'm in control. Drowning means Anita has thrown me in with no life jacket."
Both women laughed, the easy office banter breaking the intensity for a moment.
The hours slipped by, filled with brainstorming, quick discussions, flipping through material catalogs.
Every so often, someone would stop by her desk to ask for her opinion—fabric swatches, lighting options, floor plans.
She loved those exchanges, the collaborative spirit of NestForm Studios that had always drawn her to this place.
By the time lunch rolled around, Vaani felt a satisfied fatigue settling in. She stretched, rubbing her shoulders, and looked at the files spread across her desk. It had been a productive morning.
Her phone buzzed faintly in her bag. She glanced at it but didn't pick it up immediately. A part of her wondered—was it Dhruv? Or just one of the girls?
She let it buzz again, then fall silent. She'd check it after eating.
For now, she leaned back, allowing herself a rare, private smile.
She was back. Really back.
And it felt like home.
The office buzzed softly around her as Vaani slipped into her chair.
She placed her bag to the side, adjusted her notepad, and opened her laptop.
For a moment, she simply sat there, letting the familiar hum of NestForm Studios sink into her bones.
It felt grounding—like stepping into an old rhythm after weeks of being elsewhere.
But even in the middle of this grounding, something tugged at her thoughts. Dhruv. Egypt. The last conversation they had before she'd left for work had been brief. Just her telling herself she would maybe text him after reaching the office.
Her hand lingered over her phone, fingers brushing the cool surface. Should she? Shouldn't she? She took a deep breath, unlocked it, and quickly typed:
"Hey, I'm at work."
It was short, casual. Nothing too heavy. She hit send before she could overthink it, and the message went through, two grey ticks appearing instantly.
Her eyes rested on the screen for another few seconds, waiting. But nothing changed. The ticks remained grey, no blue. He hadn't seen it.
Vaani pressed her lips together, exhaling quietly. Of course. He was probably neck-deep in whatever foundation work he had left in Egypt. She shook her head, telling herself not to dwell. It was natural. He had his life, his work, his priorities. And she had hers.
She set her phone down screen-first on the desk, deliberately turning her focus back to her laptop.
"Morning, Mrs. Newlywed!"
She looked up, startled for a second, only to see Priya from her team standing there, grinning. Priya leaned against the desk beside her, coffee cup in hand.
"Don't start," Vaani groaned playfully, rolling her eyes. "Feels like everyone in this office wants to pull my leg today."
Priya laughed. "Well, what did you expect? First you disappear for your wedding, then honeymoon, then work-from-home. We practically thought you'd never come back."
Vaani shook her head, smiling. "I was working. From home. That counts."
"Barely." Priya smirked. "But anyway, welcome back. You look different."
"Different?" Vaani frowned, glancing down at herself—simple top, formal pants, hair open, the small mangalsutra resting lightly against her collarbone.
"Not like that," Priya clarified quickly. "Not your clothes. You. There's this... glow. Married life suits you."
Vaani chuckled awkwardly. "You're imagining things."
"Maybe." Priya shrugged, sipping her coffee. "Anyway, Anita wants the initial concept boards drafted by today evening. She'll probably check in before leaving."
"Got it," Vaani nodded, jotting it down.
Priya lingered a moment longer, eyeing her desk. "By the way, you've already got a pile of supplier emails waiting. Welcome back to chaos."
"Perfect," Vaani said dryly, and Priya laughed before heading back to her desk.
Left alone again, Vaani turned her attention to her laptop.
She began pulling reference images—mood lighting from boutique hotels, textures inspired by desert landscapes, palettes mixing gold with muted beige.
Her mind slipped easily into the zone, sketching mental pictures, building spaces brick by imagined brick.
Still, every now and then, her eyes darted to her phone. It lay there, silent. Grey ticks. No blue. No reply.
She told herself firmly not to read into it. This was exactly what she'd decided in the car earlier—that she would not spiral. He was busy. She was busy. That was how it was supposed to be.
"Vaani, do you have a second?"
She blinked and looked up. It was Ramesh, carrying a large folder of floor plans. His brow furrowed slightly, a telltale sign he was wrestling with something.
"Sure," she said, pushing her chair back. "What's up?"
He spread the plans across her desk, pointing at a specific section.
"I'm trying to reconcile the floor-to-ceiling window placement with the kind of seating you'd suggested in your last presentation.
But the light distribution feels off. If we go with the velvet couches, half of it will be in shadow. "
Vaani leaned forward, studying the diagram. Her pen tapped against the paper absentmindedly. "Hmm. Okay. What if we angle the seating slightly instead of keeping it parallel? That way, you still get openness, but the natural light frames the arrangement instead of cutting it."
Ramesh tilted his head, considering. "That could work. But then the rug layout..."
"Go asymmetrical," Vaani suggested. "It'll make the space feel intentional. Balance it out with an accent chair opposite."
A smile tugged at his lips. "See, this is why we needed you back."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Don't flatter me. Try it out in the 3D, and let's review after lunch."
"Done," Ramesh said, gathering the sheets. "Thanks."
Once he left, Vaani leaned back in her chair. The energy of problem-solving sparked through her—it was what she loved most about this work. Taking a flat plan and breathing life into it, turning constraints into possibilities.
Her phone buzzed faintly, making her heart jolt. She grabbed it instantly.
But it was only a group chat ping from Ria about her wedding sangeet playlist.
Vaani's shoulders slumped as she put the phone back down. She caught herself, cheeks heating slightly. Why was she reacting like this? Why was she so on edge over one unread message?
She forced herself to breathe, refocusing on the board in front of her. She had work to do. Clients waiting. A manager counting on her.
And yet, as she pulled fabric samples onto the screen, her hand drifted once again to the chain on her neck.
Across the office, people bustled, laughter mingling with the clatter of keyboards. A fresh pot of coffee brewed in the corner, filling the air with a rich aroma. Vaani poured herself a cup, needing the grounding.
When she returned to her desk, she picked up her pencil and began sketching—a corner of the model flat's living room, sunlight falling on muted sand-colored walls, a pop of emerald in the cushions. Her strokes grew steadier, her mind slowly weaving itself back into the present.
Work had always been her anchor. And today, she needed it more than ever.
Even if her phone screen stayed stubbornly grey.
~·~
The evening air outside was heavy with the city's quiet rush.
Streetlights flickered on in neat rows as Vaani steered her car through familiar roads, the radio murmuring softly in the background.
It was already 8 p.m.—she'd left office later than usual, not because of pending work but because the thought of returning to a silent, empty house had felt heavier than staying under the warm buzz of people at NestForm.
Now, as she drove back, her stomach grumbled. The idea of going home and making a proper dinner felt exhausting. She sighed and muttered aloud, "Maggi." A small smile tugged at her lips. Comfort food. Simple, warm, quick—perfect for a night like this.
She turned into a grocery store parking lot, hopped out, and quickly made her way inside.
The fluorescent lights were harsh compared to the soft amber glow of the evening outside, but her mission was clear.
She went straight to the noodles aisle and reached for the familiar yellow packets.
One, two... and then she thought, No, I'll get more.
If I'm alone all week, this will save me.
She stacked a whole bulk pack into her basket, chuckling at herself. "Maggi for dinner, Maggi for lunch... Maggi for midnight snack," she murmured, amused at her own silliness.
At the checkout counter, something caught her eye. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, the works, wrapped in golden paper. It looked beautiful, luxurious, almost cinematic. For a moment, she imagined placing it in the center of her dining table, filling the apartment with life and color.
Her hand reached toward it. Then she saw the price tag. Her smile faltered.
"Too expensive," she whispered, pulling her hand back. She shook her head, letting out a small laugh at her own hesitation. "I don't need a big bouquet."
Instead, she chose two simple flowers from the stand—fresh, small, affordable. They weren't grand, but they were enough. Little things count too, she told herself, slipping them into her basket.
On the drive home, the roads were quieter. She placed the flowers carefully on the passenger seat, her eyes flickering toward her phone in the console. No notifications. No new messages. Just the same grey ticks from morning.
Her chest tightened a little. The whole day. Nothing.
She tried reasoning with herself. Maybe his work is insane. Maybe he's in meetings all day. Maybe the wifi was patchy. Maybe...
But another thought whispered back, sharp and small: Or maybe he just didn't care enough to reply.
She shook her head as if physically pushing the thought away. No. She wouldn't spiral. Not tonight. She'd message him once she was home, check in, maybe even call. That was fair, wasn't it? She was his wife, not some stranger. It wasn't wrong to want to know if he was okay.
By the time she pulled into the basement parking, her mind was a swirl of what-ifs. She tucked the flowers into her bag gently, picked up her bulk Maggi stash, and stepped into the lift. The numbers blinked steadily as the cabin climbed.
Her reflection in the mirrored walls looked tired. Still pretty, but worn out. She reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing. Vaani, relax. He'll reply. He always does, eventually.
The lift pinged at her floor, and she stepped out into the quiet hallway. She unlocked the door, pushing it open with her shoulder as her hands balanced her bags. The apartment was dark, the kind of silence that usually wrapped her like a blanket.
She toed off her shoes and shut the door behind her, humming faintly to herself as she set the grocery bag on the kitchen counter.
The flowers she kept aside, already planning to put them in a glass jar.
She walked toward the hall, purse still slung on her shoulder, and reached to place it on the table—
When a figure moved in the corner of her vision.
Her breath caught.
She froze mid-step, eyes snapping toward the bedroom doorway. A tall silhouette stood there, framed by the dim light spilling from behind.
Her heart leapt into her throat. For a terrifying second, her mind scrambled—An intruder? Did I forget to lock the door this morning?—before the figure stepped forward, into the light.
Dhruv.
She stood there, wide-eyed and utterly shocked, staring at him as if her mind couldn't catch up to what her eyes were seeing.
??