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I'm back. Giving writing this one more shot — with the same passion and enthusiasm. I don't know what to hope for — if I should even hope for interactions, comments, votes. I don't know. Time will tell.
As an author, it's my duty to write this novel — so I will. This might be my last. I don't know.
Votes, interactions — all this will tell.
~ thewanderingquill
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Wednesday morning; Vaani woke up early. The sunlight slanted softly through the curtains, spreading a golden hue across the bedroom walls.
She sat up, stretching her arms before padding off toward the bathroom.
A quick shower later, she changed into a fresh kurti and palazzo, tying her damp hair loosely into a braid.
The kitchen filled with the familiar aroma of ginger and cardamom as she set water to boil for chai.
She was humming under her breath—some random tune she'd picked up the day before at Simran's house—when the sound of the front door opening caught her ear.
Dhruv stepped inside, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat still clinging to his temples.
He looked freshly worked out, his energy steady and controlled.
"Good morning," she called from the kitchen.
"Morning," he replied, walking past her to head toward the shower. His voice was low, casual, but she noticed the faint curve at the corner of his lips as though he was amused by her chirpiness.
By the time he came out, hair damp, clean-shaven, and in a fresh t-shirt and shorts, she'd already poured the steaming tea into two mugs. He walked into the living room to find her sitting cross-legged on the couch, her mug cradled in her palms.
He sat beside her, picking up his own mug from the table. "So," he said after a sip, "we'll head out to Mom's place by 11. If we leave on time, we can have lunch there. Geeta Aatya and Ashok Kaka will be reaching by 1."
Vaani nodded, blowing gently on her tea before taking a sip. "Makes sense. Maa will definitely insist we eat."
He gave a short chuckle, almost a breath of amusement, and nodded. They sat there in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their chai, letting the morning stretch comfortably.
By ten-thirty, Vaani disappeared into the bedroom again to get ready properly.
She stood before the mirror, slipping into a soft peach-colored kurta with delicate embroidery at the sleeves, pairing it with cream churidar pants.
She left her hair loose this time, drying it with a towel so it fell in soft waves around her shoulders.
A light pair of earrings completed the look.
She studied her reflection critically, then nodded.
When she stepped out, Dhruv was already in a crisp pale-blue shirt and dark trousers, slipping his watch onto his wrist. He gave her a quick glance, his expression unreadable as always, but there was the faintest pause before he looked away.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "Ready."
They locked up the apartment and headed down to the car.
The drive was easy enough, traffic light on a weekend morning.
Vaani sat quietly for the first few minutes, gazing out the window at the rows of shops opening for the day, children playing cricket in a narrow lane, the blur of trees along the road.
Dhruv broke the silence halfway through. "Nervous?" he asked.
She turned to him, caught off guard. "Nervous? About what?"
"My aunt and uncle," he said, his eyes on the road. "Meeting them for the first time."
She considered, then shook her head. "Not nervous. A little curious maybe. But I'm okay."
He gave a short hum in response, one that sounded almost approving. "Good."
By eleven-thirty, they pulled into the familiar driveway of his family home. Vaani straightened unconsciously, smoothing her kurta. Dhruv parked, stepped out, and walked around to her side as she gathered her dupatta. Together, they approached the front door.
It swung open even before they could knock. Jaya stood there, her face breaking into a wide smile. "Arre, you're here!" she exclaimed, ushering them in with warm hands.
"Mom," Dhruv greeted, bending briefly to touch her feet out of habit.
"Bless you, beta," she said, her palm resting lovingly on his head. She turned to Vaani, her eyes crinkling. "And you, Vaani. Come, come inside."
Vaani smiled warmly, bending slightly too. Jaya gently touched her head. "Khush raho, beta. Always stay blessed."
The house smelled like home-cooked food—onions and garlic sizzling somewhere in the kitchen, fresh coriander chopped on the counter. Vaani felt instantly enveloped in the warmth of it.
They moved to the living room, where Jaya gestured for them to sit. "Geeta vaihini and Ashok dada are still on their way," she said, settling onto a chair across from them. "They'll reach by lunchtime."
Dhruv nodded, his posture relaxed. "We came early so we could spend some time before it gets crowded."
Jaya's eyes sparkled as she looked at Vaani. "And I heard the good news, haan! Promotion! Congratulations, beta."
Vaani's eyes widened a little. "Maa... you already know?"
"Of course," Jaya chuckled. "You think Dhruv didn't tell me? Word travels quickly in this family."
Dhruv hid a small smile at that. Vaani blinked, then let out a soft laugh. "Well, yes... I did get promoted last week. I have more work from home now, so I took today from home."
"Arre wah," Jaya said proudly. "So soon, in just two years? That's wonderful, Vaani. You've made us all proud. Senior designer, no? That's what I heard."
Vaani flushed lightly. "Yes, Maa. Senior designer."
"Very good," Jaya said warmly. "You must celebrate properly. I'm sure Dhruv already did something, hmm?"
At that, Vaani's eyes darted to Dhruv for half a second, remembering the flowers and cake from that night. She smiled softly to herself. "Yes, Maa. He did."
Jaya's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Good. That's how it should be."
The conversation drifted after that—Mahesh asking about her parents, about Vihaan's studies, about Vedant's school. Vaani answered happily, her voice animated as she described her brothers' antics. Dhruv listened quietly, occasionally stepping in with a dry comment that made his mother chuckle.
Tea was brought out soon enough, along with a plate of chakli and laddus.
Vaani accepted her cup with a smile, inhaling the fragrant steam.
She realized as she sipped that her nerves had melted away.
Jaya had that effect—warm, reassuring, making her feel not like an outsider, but like someone who belonged.
At some point, Jaya leaned forward and said softly, "Beta, I know sometimes it's difficult, adjusting to everything after marriage. But you're doing beautifully. Don't forget to also take time for yourself, hmm? Work is important, but your happiness too."
Vaani felt her throat tighten slightly at the gentle concern in those words. She nodded, smiling faintly. "I will, Maa."
Dhruv, sitting beside her, glanced at her profile then, his gaze unreadable. But he didn't say anything—just leaned back and finished his tea.
The morning stretched comfortably. The clock ticked toward noon, the hum of the household filling the spaces between their conversations. And though Geeta vaihini and Ashok dada hadn't arrived yet, the warmth of Jaya's presence had already set the tone for the day.
~·~
By a little after noon, the doorbell rang again. Jaya rose immediately, wiping her hands on her saree pallu as she went to open it. "Arre, finally!" she said warmly as the door swung open.
Geeta vaihini and Ashok dada stood there, luggage in hand, smiles on their faces from the journey. Ashok, tall and broad-shouldered with silver streaks in his hair, gave a warm nod as he stepped in. Geeta followed quietly, her expression composed, her saree neatly pleated, every fold in place.
"Come, come inside," Jaya fussed, stepping aside to welcome them in.
Dhruv stood, straightening, while Vaani also got to her feet. She moved forward, her dupatta slipping slightly as she bent down respectfully to touch their feet.
"Khush raho, beta," Ashok said, his voice deep and warm, his hand resting briefly on her head. He didn't say much else, but his eyes softened, the kind that spoke more than words.
Geeta gave the small smile, her palm barely brushing Vaani's head. "Bless you," she murmured politely before moving past. Her eyes scanned the living room in a single sweep, as though taking stock of everything in silence.
The air filled with chatter as everyone settled down. Bags were placed in the guest room by the house help, and soon they were gathered back in the living area.
"So, Vaani," Ashok said once the initial greetings were done. "What do you do, beta?"
Vaani straightened a little, her smile warm. "I'm an interior designer, Kaka. I work with NestForm Studios."
"Interior designer," Ashok repeated, impressed. He nodded appreciatively. "That's wonderful. Creative work is not easy, takes a lot of patience."
Before Vaani could respond, Dhruv added casually, "She designed our new Abu Dhabi office."
The way he said it was steady, matter-of-fact, but it made Ashok lift his brows. "Oh ho, wah! That's no small task. Well done, Vaani."
Vaani felt her cheeks warm, glancing briefly at Dhruv. He hadn't needed to add that detail, but he had—and it made her chest swell just a little.
Jaya's eyes sparkled with pride too. "Yes, yes, she's done so well for herself already."
Geeta sat in her place, her smile polite but reserved. She didn't comment, merely adjusted the pleats of her saree again and sipped her water. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing more than quietness—but her gaze lingered a fraction too long on Vaani before sliding away.
The conversation flowed easily after that.
Ashok and Jaya exchanged updates about extended family, about cousins' weddings and nephews' exam results.
Dhruv contributed occasionally, his tone always steady, never too animated.
Vaani, comfortable now, joined in where she could—sometimes with an enthusiastic question, sometimes with a small anecdote.
Her voice, naturally lively, carried into the room. She was expressive, her hands moving a little when she spoke, her laugh quick and genuine when Ashok cracked an old family joke. It wasn't forced—this was simply who she was when she was comfortable.
Jaya looked pleased, watching her with fondness. Ashok too seemed to appreciate the fresh energy Vaani brought. "It's good," he said once, after she'd finished a story about her younger brother Vedant's mischief. "That you speak so openly. Families should be like this."
Vaani beamed at the words, her confidence growing.
But across from her, Geeta's expression remained neutral.
Too neutral. Her lips curved in a faint smile at the right places, but her eyes told a different story—cool, evaluating.
She didn't interrupt, didn't say anything unkind, but there was something in the way she sat back slightly, her gaze steady on Vaani for a moment too long, that hinted at a quiet disapproval no one else noticed.
"Chalo," Jaya said after a while, clapping her hands softly. "Lunch is ready. Let's eat."
Everyone agreed and began making their way to the dining area. The table was already set—steaming bowls of dal, sabzi, fragrant pulao, soft chapatis stacked high. The spread was generous, the kind of welcome Jaya always insisted on.
Vaani instinctively moved to help, following Jaya into the kitchen to bring out the last dishes. She carried a tray of katoris, setting them neatly on the table. Jaya came behind her with a large pot of curry.
As they moved back and forth, Dhruv, already seated, looked at Vaani. He caught her eye for just a moment, his expression quiet but firm—an unspoken "don't keep running around, sit down and eat."
Vaani caught the message immediately. She smiled faintly, placing the last item down before sliding into the chair beside him. She adjusted her dupatta, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then looked at the spread with satisfaction.
Soon, the table was alive with conversation. Plates clinked, serving spoons moved, laughter rose here and there. Ashok was telling a story about his travels, Jaya adding her own commentary. Dhruv listened quietly, occasionally answering when spoken to, but mostly letting the elders talk.
Vaani, relaxed now, found herself joining in naturally.
She laughed at Ashok's stories, shared little details about her office life, and teased lightly about her brothers back home.
She didn't even realize how much she was speaking—it flowed easily, her comfort making her chatter spill out like a stream.
Everyone else seemed content with it. Ashok nodded encouragingly, Jaya smiled warmly, even Dhruv listened quietly, his hand occasionally steadying the water jug as she reached for it.
Only Geeta's silence lingered like a shadow at the edge of the table.
She ate neatly, without fuss, smiling politely when someone addressed her.
But whenever Vaani spoke a little too animatedly, Geeta's eyes flicked toward her, sharp for a second before softening into neutrality again.
It wasn't obvious, not unless someone was watching closely—but it was there.
A faint tightening of her jaw, a measured look, quickly smoothed over.
Vaani, oblivious, carried on. Her laughter lilted through the room, her energy lighting the table. For her, it was just another happy family meal. For Geeta, however, there was a flicker of something else behind that polite smile—something sleek, unreadable, like a thought tucked away for later.
And no one noticed. Not yet.
Lunch slowly wound down. Plates were scraped clean, laughter still carried across the table, and the clinking of glasses lingered in the air. As everyone pushed their chairs back, Ashok dabbed his mouth with his napkin and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"Jaya, as always, you've outdone yourself," he said warmly.
"Arre, what outdone? You're family, how can I let you eat less than this?" Jaya laughed, rising to start clearing the plates.
Vaani immediately stood too. "I'll help," she offered, gathering a few dishes and stacking them carefully.
Soon enough, both women were ferrying plates and bowls into the kitchen, while the men drifted into the living area, continuing their conversation about politics and cricket.
Dhruv lingered a moment, watching Vaani carry a tray.
There was a flicker of quiet approval in his eyes, but he said nothing and followed Ashok out.
Once the counters were clear, Vaani dusted her palms together. "I'll make chai," she said with an easy smile. "Everyone will want it after such a heavy meal."
Jaya nodded. "Good idea. I'll join you in a bit, just let me check the water bottles." She moved toward the pantry, leaving Vaani alone in the kitchen.
Vaani hummed softly as she set the kettle on, spooning tea leaves into the pot, the aroma beginning to waft up. She reached for the ginger, grating it lightly, when the sound of soft footsteps behind her made her turn.
It was Geeta.
Her saree rustled faintly as she entered, her posture perfectly composed, her face calm. "You're making chai?" she asked, voice polite but cool.
"Yes, Aatya (What you call father's sister)," Vaani replied with a small smile, turning back to the pot. "I thought everyone might enjoy some."
"Hmm." Geeta stood a little to the side, watching. Her eyes trailed over Vaani briefly before settling on the simmering pot. After a moment of silence, she asked casually, "So, how come your parents aren't here today?"
Vaani blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Oh," she said quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Actually, they were a bit busy with Vihaan's US visa. You know how hard appointments are to get these days—finally they got one for today, and they couldn't afford to let it go."
Geeta's lips curved faintly, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hmm. Interesting."
Vaani stirred the tea, trying to keep her tone light. "Yes, it was very important for them. They were really hoping it would go through."
Another pause. Then Geeta's voice again, softer but carrying a sharper undertone. "It's surprising, though."
Vaani turned slightly, confused. "What is, Aatya?"
"That Dhruv said yes to you," Geeta said, her tone smooth, as if she were stating a fact rather than an opinion. "He had a lot of people Jaya had shortlisted for him. But you—somehow, you stood out. I wonder why."
The words landed heavier than Vaani expected. Her hand froze on the spoon for a second. Something inside her chest dipped, as if a shadow had slipped across her bright day.
"I... I don't know, Aatya," she said quietly after a pause, forcing a polite smile though her throat felt dry. "Maybe it just... worked out."
Geeta tilted her head slightly, as though considering. Her eyes lingered on Vaani for a second longer than comfortable, unreadable, before she hummed. "Hmm."
And then, without another word, she turned and glided out of the kitchen, her saree trailing neatly behind her.
Vaani stood there for a moment, her heart thudding a little too fast for such a simple exchange. She stirred the chai mechanically, her mind whirling. Why did she say that? Did she mean it in a bad way? Did I do something wrong?
She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on the tea. Don't overthink, Vaani. Maybe she didn't mean anything by it. But still, the unease lingered like a faint ache, as though she had been put under a microscope without even realizing it.
By the time the chai was ready, she had pasted on her usual polite smile again. Carrying the tray of steaming cups, she walked back into the living room.
"Ah, perfect timing," Ashok said warmly, reaching for a cup. "Nothing better than hot chai after a meal like this."
"Smells wonderful," Jaya added, taking hers.
Dhruv accepted his cup with a quiet nod, his fingers brushing briefly against the rim as he murmured, "Thanks."
Everyone took a sip, the aroma of ginger and cardamom filling the room. Compliments followed almost immediately.
"Excellent," Ashok said appreciatively.
"Wah, Vaani, you make it just right," Jaya agreed.
Dhruv didn't say much, but the faint softening around his mouth said enough—he was content.
Only Geeta remained silent, sipping without comment. No one noticed. The conversation had already shifted back to a cousin's engagement plans, Ashok leading the story with gusto.
Vaani sat down with her cup, keeping her smile steady, but inside she felt a small, unsettled knot. Everyone else was warm and encouraging, yet Geeta's quiet look in the kitchen replayed in her mind. That faint smile, the measured words, the question she hadn't known how to answer.
She sipped her chai slowly, nodding along to the conversation, but her mind was elsewhere. A part of her kept circling back, wondering, Am I doing something wrong? Did she mean something? Or am I just overthinking?
From the outside, she looked like any other happy new bride, laughing softly when Ashok cracked another joke. But deep down, a flicker of unease had taken root.
And no one—not Dhruv, not Jaya, not even Ashok—noticed the way Geeta's eyes flickered once more toward her, calm and polite on the surface, but hiding something sharper beneath.
After chai and endless rounds of talk, the afternoon slipped lazily into evening. Ashok leaned back in his chair, looking like he'd happily settle for a nap. Geeta, graceful as always, adjusted her saree pleats and began hinting about leaving.
"Chalo, we should head out," she said mildly. "It's been such a warm lunch, but home is waiting."
"Arre, what leaving?" Jaya immediately protested, her hands flying up. "Stay the night! It's been so long since you both came. We'll feel so bad if you leave just like that."
Ashok smiled faintly. "It's not necessary, Jaya. You've already done so much. We'll meet again soon."
"No, no, no," Jaya cut in firmly. "You two missed the reception as well, that too merely by a few days, so no excuses now. Vaani and I will prepare the guest room. You both must stay. We'll have dinner together, sit and talk properly. One afternoon is not enough after months apart."
Geeta shook her head politely. "It's really fine. We didn't bring a change of clothes, nothing is prepared—"
Jaya put her hands on her hips, mock stern. "I won't hear another word. Clothes we can arrange. And what preparation? You are at your own home! Don't insult us by saying otherwise."
"Jaya..." Geeta tried again, but Ashok chuckled softly, cutting her off.
"Seems like we've already lost this argument," he said to his wife. "When Jaya decides something, who can say no?"
Jaya grinned. "Exactly! Now, that's settled."
Vaani, sitting quietly by Dhruv, watched the exchange with gentle amusement. She loved how insistently warm Jaya could be, and how Ashok seemed amused but indulgent. For a moment, everything felt simple, like family should.
"Vaani beta," Jaya called suddenly, "can you set up the guest room? Put fresh sheets, maybe keep a jug of water too. They'll be comfortable that way."
"Yes, Maa," Vaani said instantly, rising with a small smile.
She headed toward the guest room, the sounds of chatter following her until she closed the door behind her.
The room smelled faintly of naphthalene from the cupboard.
She busied herself—pulling out crisp white sheets, tucking corners neatly, plumping the pillows.
She laid out clean towels, placed a jug of water with two glasses on the side table, even adjusted the curtains so the evening light softened instead of blinding.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood back, satisfied. It looked welcoming, cared for. She was about to turn and leave when faint voices drifted in through the slightly open door.
Her name.
She froze.
Heart skipping, she stepped closer to the crack in the doorway. The voices were clear—it was Geeta, her tone smooth but sharp-edged, and Ashok's softer responses.
"How did they even select her for Dhruv?
" Geeta asked, "We didn't have a say in the wedding, that's fine it's our not child by birth, but aren't we as good as his parents.
I had found so many good rishtas for Dhruv, families with girls in their own businesses — but no.
They selected someone who isn't even on the same status. "
Vaani's throat tightened. Her hand, still resting on the doorframe, went cold.
Ashok responded gently, "What do you mean? She's a nice girl, Geeta. Talkative, friendly. She blends well."
"This is exactly the problem," Geeta said, voice clipped. "She's too talkative. No respect that she's the youngest in this house right now. Her husband doesn't talk much, and still she keeps on, nonstop. What kind of sanskaar is this?"
Vaani's chest constricted.
Ashok's voice now, calm but faintly defensive: "Come on, what are you saying? She's cheerful. Brings life to the room. Where's the harm? If anything, it complements Dhruv's silence."
But Geeta's tone sharpened further. "I know Dhruv. You know Dhruv. When he used to come home also, to play with our Varun, when did he ever talk? They are first cousins and still Dhruv barely spoke. And now he has to live with this nonstop talking machine the entire time? He must be so fed up."
The words pierced straight through Vaani. Nonstop talking machine. Her lips trembled.
Ashok tried again, firm but kind. "Maybe he likes it. You don't know. Sometimes opposites balance each other."
But Geeta laughed lightly, dismissive. "I know Dhruv since he was in diapers. He is stubborn, but for family, he'll adjust—he's always adjusted. That's who he is. But inside? He hates too much talking. Always has. How can he like her?"
Vaani froze, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Dhruv hates too much talking. The sentence replayed in her head, again and again, louder and sharper each time. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them furiously back. She couldn't let herself cry, not here, not now.
Her mind spiraled. She thought of every time she had filled silences with her chatter.
Every time she had teased him, coaxed him, forced him into conversations he hadn't started.
Every time he had stayed quiet and she had assumed he was just being himself.
Had she been suffocating him all along? Had she been blind to what he actually wanted?
Her stomach twisted with guilt. I never even asked him if he's okay with it. I just kept talking. I thought he didn't mind, maybe even liked it. But what if Aatya is right? She knows him way more than I do. What if he's just adjusting, like always?
She pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to breathe quietly, unnoticed.
But Geeta wasn't finished.
"And then today," she continued smoothly, "her parents didn't even come. Imagine, ladke waale are calling and they don't show up. What does that say?"
Ashok interjected quickly. "Because of Vihaan's visa appointment. You also know how hard it was to get Varun's appointment that time. Same struggle. You remember."
"So what?" Geeta retorted. "Vihaan is twenty-one, a grown boy. He can go alone. Why did both parents need to go? You have to respect your in-laws, especially when they are of a much higher status than you. But clearly, that respect isn't there."
That last phrase crushed Vaani completely. Much higher status. The words rang in her ears, heavy and humiliating. She had never thought of her marriage in such terms, but now it felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold reality over her.
Her chest felt hollow. Her throat burned. She wanted to leave, to run, to do anything but stand there frozen. But her legs wouldn't move. She just stood there, silent and invisible, while the voices in the hall went on.
Inside her, something cracked.
The warm excitement she had felt these past days—about her promotion, about her home, about her small, budding comfort with Dhruv—seemed suddenly fragile. Weak. As if one sharp nudge could shatter it.
And Geeta's words had been more than a nudge. They had been a blow.
She thought of Dhruv—his quiet nods, his short replies, the way he rarely spoke unless spoken to. Had she mistaken all that silence for acceptance, when maybe it had been quiet endurance? Was she really a burden to him, just like Geeta said?
Tears brimmed again, threatening to spill. She wiped them quickly with her sleeve, swallowing the lump in her throat. She couldn't let anyone see. She couldn't let them know she'd heard.
And in her head, only one refrain kept echoing— Dhruv hates too much talking. He hates it.
The voices carried on in the hall, and though Vaani desperately wanted to slip away, her feet wouldn't move. She was caught, pinned by the weight of Geeta's words.
"And now toh," Geeta said, her tone lowered but heavy with meaning, "they don't even live here. They live separately. I'm sure she has something to do with it. Already she's creating distance, separating the family—and Jaya isn't even noticing."
Vaani clutched at her dupatta, pressing it to her mouth to muffle the choked sound that threatened to escape.
Her body trembled. Separating the family?
The accusation hit like a slap. She had never even asked for them to live separately.
That had been decided between the elders, arranged for convenience.
But now—Geeta was pinning the blame on her, as if she were some conniving wife pulling Dhruv away from his people.
She bit hard on her lip, holding back sobs.
Then Geeta sighed deeply, almost theatrically.
"Poor Dhruv. What else can I say except may God give him strength?
Maybe this explains why his workload has suddenly increased.
He'll take any chance to stay outside, to bury himself in office matters—at least there he gets some peace and quiet. He must be missing that now, I'm sure."
Those words broke something in Vaani. She pressed her palm to her chest, tears spilling despite her efforts to stay quiet. So that's what they think. That he works late, not because of responsibility or ambition, but because of me. Because I take away his peace.
Her breath came shaky, uneven. The thought stabbed her again: He paid for Columbia for Vihaan. He built this life. He gave me this roof, this name. And what did I give him in return? Just my chatter, my constant presence, my noise. Maybe... maybe I've only bothered him from the beginning.
The unfairness of it all burned too. She hadn't chosen to live separately from the family.
She had accepted what was arranged, adapted, done her best to blend in both homes.
And now she was being accused of tearing them apart.
Her lips trembled as she tried to swallow the injustice, but it tasted bitter.
Her shoulders shook, silent sobs escaping into the fabric of her dupatta. She crouched a little, muffling her cries so no one could hear. The laughter and warmth in the hall just outside made it worse, as if her pain was invisible, irrelevant.
After a few moments, she heard the shuffling of feet. Ashok and Geeta had moved, their conversation breaking as they rejoined the others. Vaani quickly dragged the edge of her dupatta across her cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her tears.
She straightened, still trembling but determined.
She glanced at the mirror across the room.
Her face was blotchy, her eyes rimmed red.
Panic shot through her. She splashed water into her palms, pressing it to her cheeks, patting until the heat dulled and her skin looked passable.
She pinched her own cheeks lightly, trying to bring back some normal color, then practiced a small smile until it held steady.
Just then, Jaya's voice rang down the hall.
"Vaani beta! Where are you?"
Her heart lurched. Quickly, she inhaled deep, pushing the storm inside down, down, burying it where no one could see. "Coming, Maa!" she called back, her voice steady enough.
One last glance in the mirror—her eyes betrayed her if one looked too close, but hopefully no one would. She fixed her hair, straightened her kurta, and walked out with a practiced calm.
In the hall, everything looked as it had before—Ashok chatting warmly with Dhruv about some cousin's business venture, Jaya laughing as she teased one of the house helps about his clumsy stacking of dishes, Geeta sitting poised with her teacup, smiling politely but adding little.
Vaani entered, smile glued in place.
"Ah, there you are," Jaya said warmly. "Room is ready?"
"Yes, Maa," Vaani nodded, her voice gentle but composed. "All set."
"Good girl," Jaya praised. "You think of everything."
The warmth of her words should have comforted her, but inside Vaani felt nothing but shambles. Every compliment felt like salt, reminding her of the accusations she'd just heard.
She moved to sit near Dhruv, who gave her a brief glance and a small nod—his usual way of acknowledging her without words.
He was engaged in conversation with Ashok about a new project, and she didn't want to interrupt.
But the glance, so casual, twisted her inside.
Is this what Geeta meant? That he never says what he feels, just adjusts?
That maybe even now he's adjusting, tolerating me?
She folded her hands in her lap, nodding along with the conversation, occasionally offering a small polite response. To everyone else, she looked calm, composed, her usual self.
But inside—her mind was shattered glass. Every word from Geeta replayed in her head. Too talkative. No respect. Nonstop talking machine. Separating the family. Dhruv hates too much talking. Poor Dhruv. He only works late for peace.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop her hands from trembling.
And no one noticed. Dhruv didn't, because Ashok's questions kept him busy. Jaya didn't, because she was bustling around with hosting duties.
So Vaani sat, a quiet smile on her lips, while her mind echoed with breaking sounds—cracks running deeper with every memory, every thought of how obliviously she'd yapped and laughed these past days.
On the surface, nothing had changed. But inside, Vaani was no longer the same.
The clock struck ten. Conversations in the hall had slowed, laughter and chatter softening as the evening stretched longer than expected. Ashok leaned back with a satisfied sigh after finishing his chai, while Geeta adjusted the pallu of her sari with her usual poised stiffness.
Dhruv glanced at his watch and then at Vaani, who sat a little too straight, her smile polite but subdued. He cleared his throat lightly. "We should head home now. It's getting late."
"Oh ho," Jaya said warmly, "already? Why don't you both stay back tonight? It's been so long since you spent the night here."
Dhruv shook his head gently. "That's alright, Mom. No worries. We'll see you all at the reception anyway. And Vaani has plans in the morning—it'll be easier if we go home."
Geeta, sitting across, lifted her eyes sharply. "Can't Vaani go to her plans from here?" she asked smoothly, her tone casual to anyone else, but her gaze carrying weight.
Vaani's heart stuttered. Her throat went dry, her fingers curling against her lap. Before Dhruv could answer, she blurted out, stumbling over her words: "I...I can. I can, in fact. I don't think I have any plans anyway, so I can stay here."
Dhruv turned his head, brows drawing together slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes as he looked at her. But he didn't press. Instead, he said evenly, "It's fine. We'll head home. We'll see you all soon."
Jaya smiled kindly, breaking the tension. "Of course, beta. Drive safe, both of you."
The goodbyes were exchanged, polite smiles and waves passed, and soon the front door closed behind them. Dhruv led the way to the car, his steps calm, his mind already easing into the quiet of the night. Vaani followed silently, her chest tight, her pulse fluttering.
The drive began. The city stretched around them, lights blinking past in steady streams. Dhruv maneuvered the car with his usual precision, focused yet relaxed.
Vaani sat in the passenger seat, her face turned toward the window. Her reflection glimmered faintly against the glass, eyes vacant as she stared into the blur of the night outside.
Fifteen minutes passed. The silence stretched longer than Dhruv was used to. He stole a glance at her, her hands folded on her lap, her profile lit softly by the dashboard lights. Finally, curiosity tugged at him.
"Sleepy?" he asked casually.
Her head snapped slightly toward him. "What?"
"Are you sleepy?" he repeated, a small amused smile curling his lips.
She frowned lightly, caught off guard. "Why... why do you ask?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Because there hasn't been one word out of your mouth for the last fifteen minutes. That's new."
Her chest squeezed painfully. His observation, though simple, echoed Geeta's words in her mind—Dhruv hates too much talking. He must be fed up. She turned her face away quickly, hiding her expression.
"Silence is good too," she said softly, her voice almost too even. "Right?"
Dhruv glanced at her, surprised by the sudden seriousness in her tone. But he only chuckled again, brushing it off. "Yep, it is."
She forced a smile, though he couldn't see it with her face turned away. "Then let's enjoy it."
He shook his head lightly, amused. To him, it was another one of her whimsical remarks, another playful mood swing that made her who she was. He thought nothing more of it.
"Okay then," he said with quiet amusement, his tone indulgent.
The rest of the drive was silent. Dhruv didn't notice the way her fingers dug into her palms, or how her eyes glistened faintly as she blinked back the sting. He thought she was simply enjoying the stillness.
When they reached home, he parked smoothly and grabbed his phone before stepping out. Vaani followed him up, her steps slower, heavier.
Inside, Dhruv put the keys on the counter and loosened his shirt collar. "Chai?" he asked casually.
She shook her head quickly. "No. I think I'll sleep."
He gave her a small nod. "Alright."
No questions, no probing. Just acceptance.
They went into their room. Vaani changed quietly, movements mechanical, her mind elsewhere. Dhruv switched off the lights, sliding into his side of the bed with a sigh of exhaustion. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, the steady rhythm of sleep.
Vaani lay on her side, back turned toward him, eyes wide open in the dark. The silence that had seemed unbearable in the car now pressed against her chest like a weight.
She stared into the shadows, her thoughts spinning. Geeta's words circled endlessly: Nonstop talking machine. Poor Dhruv. He hates too much talking. He'll never say anything for family, he'll just adjust.
Her heart clenched. She thought back to every time she had filled the quiet with her chatter—on drives, over chai, in the living room while he simply listened.
Every time she had tugged him into conversation, laughed, teased, demanded responses.
She had thought she was keeping the energy alive, bridging his silences with her warmth.
But what if she had only been suffocating him? What if he had been tolerating her all along?
Tears slipped down silently onto her pillow. She bit her lip, muffling the sound. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of unspoken pain, but her body remained perfectly still, her back firm against the space between them.
Dhruv slept peacefully, unaware.
And Vaani, wide awake, lay with her heart heavy, her mind breaking, and a quiet resolution forming: maybe she needed to change. Maybe she needed to give him the silence he never asked for but always wanted.
The room remained dark and still. Only one of them carried the weight of it.
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