⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟓˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The moment those words left his mouth, I flinched. Hard.
His tone—cold, sharp, angry—wrapped around me like a noose. He didn't even look back. Just walked away.
He's angry.
Too angry.
And I don't want him to unleash that anger on me... or Tara.
I stood up quickly, trying not to look around, trying not to draw attention.
My hands trembled as I reached for Tara from Hridhaan bhaiya's lap. She smiled at me, clueless... safe in her own little world.
I held her close. I could feel my chest tightening.
I didn't even realize when my eyes filled with tears. They didn't fall, not yet. But they were there—burning, heavy, on the edge.
I walked upstairs fast. My footsteps felt heavy, but my heart was heavier.
As soon as I entered the room, I placed Tara softly on the bed. She sat down playing with the end of her frock, humming some random tune.
With shaking hands, I moved to the corner where my suitcase lay.
It was still packed.
I never unpacked. Not even a single thing.
I didn't have to fold anything, didn't have to collect anything. Everything was already inside.
Because somewhere, deep down—I always knew.
I would never belong here.
And now I was leaving... again. Not to go back to my family. But to follow a man who didn't want me. Who looked at me like I was some burden thrown at his feet.
Why do I have to go with him?
Why does he live away from his family?
Why are they sending me there?
And the most terrifying question—
What if he behaves like him?
No. No, no...
He's not like him.
Right?
He didn't touch me that night. He didn't raise a hand. He didn't even yell when Tara climbed on his bed.
But that anger in his eyes—so cold, so sharp—
It scared me.
The same way he used to scare me.
I grabbed the zipper of the suitcase tightly and shut it. My hands were still shaking.
I looked at Tara... still playing, still smiling.
And I knew—I had to go.
For her.
Even if every step takes me deeper into the unknown.
But now wasn't the time to think.
I quickly picked up my suitcase in one hand and Tara in the other. My heart was racing, my body trembling slightly. I had barely reached the first few steps of the staircase when Aarush bhaiya appeared at the base.
"Bhabhi... laiye, bag mujhe dijiye."
("Bhabhi... please, give me the bag.")
His voice was kind, as always. Calm. Gentle.
I shook my head instantly.
"I can manage, bhaiya," I tried to say, but before I could even finish, he had already taken the bag from me like I hadn't even spoken.
I didn't know what to say. My throat tightened again, but not from fear this time—just... surprise. A little warmth.
The whole family... they're so sweet. So accepting.
They welcomed Tara. Me. Without a single question, without judgement.
But then again...
Is this real? Or are they just being nice in the beginning?
Will they also change? Will they also one day push us into a small corner like the others did?
I shook the thought away.
Soon, I stepped out of the house with Tara still in my arms. He was already sitting in the driver's seat—Vidyut. Silent. Rigid. Hands on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, eyes staring ahead like I didn't exist.
I didn't dare to look at him for long. I quickly averted my eyes and turned back to the family who were standing at the main door.
Maa. Aarush bhaiya. Hridhaan bhaiya. Even Parul Chachi. They all smiled and waved softly.
Tara, who was sitting on my lap now, giggled at the sight of them. Her tiny fingers waved excitedly. She didn't know anything. Didn't understand the storm behind this smile, the fear hidden behind this departure.
I held her tighter.
And I looked up once again—
Not at the sky, but just... up.
As if He was watching.
"I don't want anything, Bhagwaan ji..."
"I know happiness was never written for me.
But please... please give it to her. My daughter.
What has she done wrong?"
"Why is she being punished?
"
"Please..."
"I beg You. Give her all the joy she deserves, even if that means taking away every last bit of mine. "
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes again. I blinked them away before they could fall.
And just like that...
The car engine roared to life.
And we drove away.
Soon the car came to a halt... in front of a huge mansion.
This is his home?
It looked so grand... so beautiful... so intimidating.
A chill ran down my spine before I could even admire it properly.
The driver-side door slammed shut with a loud bang.
I flinched hard. My heart jumped in my chest.
But thankfully—Tara was still asleep. My little sleepyhead... she could sleep anywhere.
I looked at her peaceful face and took a deep breath before slowly opening my door. My legs felt heavy as I stepped out. I held Tara tighter, close to my chest, her head resting against my shoulder.
I didn't walk in like a new bride.
I walked in like a thief.
Scared.
Cautious.
Like someone who didn't belong here and could be thrown out any moment.
The marble beneath my feet felt too shiny. The silence too loud.
I crossed the threshold slowly, step by step, holding Tara, holding my breath.
As I entered the living room, I saw him.
Vidyut.
Standing in the center of the space like it belonged to him—and it did.
But what caught my attention wasn't his house, or the expensive sofa set behind him...
It was his hands.
Clenched tight.
Knuckles white.
Veins angry and swollen under his skin.
He was furious.
He hadn't even looked at me yet, but the tension in the room was already suffocating.
Just then—his phone rang.
A sharp tone piercing through the quiet.
Without even glancing toward me, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered it.
His jaw was tight. His brows furrowed.
I stood frozen in place, not knowing whether to step in further or stay at the door.
What the hell.
As soon as I entered the house, the air changed. And not in a good way.
I saw her.
Standing right at the entrance.
Lata Kaki.
My mood was already at rock bottom, and now this?
Why the fuck is she here?
She's the woman who works for Maa—at the Rajvansh Mansion, not here.
So what the hell is she doing in my house?
And I already knew the answer.
I didn't even have to ask. But I did anyway. Maybe to control the storm building in my chest.
"Kaki, aap yahan?"
("Kaki, what are you doing here?")
My voice wasn't warm. It wasn't polite.
It was sharp. Cold. Intimidating.
Just the way I wanted it to be.
She didn't flinch, though. She never did. One of the few who had worked in our family long enough to not care about my temper.
"Beta, voh... badi malkin ne bheja hai mujhe yahan," she said calmly.
I knew it.
Of course Maa sent her.
To keep an eye. To 'support' her beloved daughter-in-law and granddaughter.
To babysit this circus they've planted in my house.
I gritted my teeth.
So now, not only do I have a woman I didn't choose, and a child I didn't ask for, but also a spy from my family walking around my damn house.
Great.
Fucking fantastic.
Just then... my phone rang.
Maa.
Of course.
I stared at the screen for a second, jaw clenched.
This was coming. I knew it.
I swiped to answer, already pissed.
"Maa, kya hai yeh sab?"
("Maa, what is all this?")
My voice was sharp, but still respectful. She's the only one I don't snap at. Not fully.
Her voice came through, cold and commanding.
"You know what this is, Vidyut. So stop pretending.
I'm just calling to remind you to behave.
I've sent Lata there for a reason... and you know what that reason is.
So don't try anything. Aur agar mujhe kuch bhi pata chala na, Vidyut.
.. toh tum dekhna."
("...and if I hear even one thing, Vidyut. .. then you just wait and see.")
She didn't shout.
She didn't need to.
The threat was clear.
Sharp. Direct. Non-negotiable.
I didn't say another word.
I just cut the call.
My anger? At its peak.
I felt like throwing something—punching a wall—screaming at the damn ceiling.
Why the fuck is everyone controlling my life like a remote?
And then... I saw her.
Ritvika.
Standing there at the edge of the hallway, holding that sleeping child like a shield.
She was staring at me, confused. Scared.
The moment our eyes met—she quickly looked away. Her arms clutched the girl tighter, like she expected me to explode.
Good.
Better be.
Because I'm not the man who'll play house.
I'm not going to fake smiles.
They forced this life on me—and now they'll live with the consequences.
I was about to head upstairs, storm into my room, slam the damn door behind me and lock the world out — just like I always do —
when her voice stopped me.
"Ca...can you... please show me the... the guestroom?"
Her voice was so low, like it was breaking mid-sentence. I turned slightly, just enough to see her.
She wasn't moving.
Just standing there.
Still.
Awkward.
Like she wasn't sure she had the right to exist here.
I clenched my jaw again.
Guestroom?
Of course.
Of course she'd ask that. Because even she knows she doesn't belong in my room. That this marriage is a joke. A transaction. A punishment written in silence.
I stared at her for a second longer.
She looked... tired.
Not the kind of tired you fix with sleep.
The kind that sits in your bones and refuses to leave.
I hated that I noticed.
"Are you dumb or what?"
The words left my mouth like ice, sharp and flat.
Not loud. I didn't need volume — I was already dangerous without it.
She flinched. Of course she did.
She always does.
She was still standing there like a damn statue, hugging her kid like I was about to eat them alive. Maybe I would, who knows.
I noticed her daughter in her arms.
Tara.
That tiny thing's cheek was pressed against her shoulder.
Her breathing soft, her lashes stuck together.
I don't know why...
but I didn't shout.
Still didn't mean I wasn't pissed.
"Uhh..." she mumbled. Confused. Lost.
God. Why. Why me. Why this. Why now.
I didn't wait for her to gather her scrambled thoughts. I grabbed her wrist — not gently — and dragged her with me. She didn't resist. Just followed like a ragdoll.
We reached the kitchen.
Lata Kaki was there, prepping something.
I stopped at the entrance and pointed toward her.
"Are you seeing that woman standing there, dumb?"
My teeth were clenched, jaw tight.
She blinked, looked where I pointed, confused as hell.
Of course she was confused. Her brain probably hadn't processed half of today.
I gritted harder. My voice dropped into a sharper growl.
"She was sent here. By Maa.
My Maa.
She's here to spy. On us. Every second. Every breath.
She'll report even if you sneeze sideways.
So I don't have a fucking choice now, got it?
I can't throw you in the guestroom. You'll stay in my room. Only. Samjhi?"
She stared at me — no answer, no sound.
Tara was still asleep in her arms. Completely unaware that her mother had just been told she doesn't get to choose where to sleep, how to live, or who to trust anymore.
Welcome to my world, sweetheart.
Ritvika stood frozen in place, trying to process his words.
"You'll stay in my room. Only. Samjhi?"
Her throat dried. She clutched Tara closer to her chest, her lips parting slightly, but no words came. She simply nodded — or maybe her head trembled in agreement. Even she didn't know.
Vidyut didn't wait for any response. He turned away sharply and climbed the stairs, his steps heavy, echoing through the mansion.
Ritvika stood there for a second longer before finally moving. Her legs were stiff, and her arms were growing tired from holding Tara, but she didn't dare say a word.
As she reached the room, she pushed the door open slowly, half-expecting another outburst. But the room was empty. Tara shifted in her arms, and Ritvika quietly walked to the bed.
She gently laid Tara down, carefully surrounding her with pillows again — just like she had done last night. Her hands trembled as she placed the blanket over her daughter.
Meanwhile, the closet door creaked open.
Vidyut stepped out, dressed now in his usual crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp — looking every bit like the storm he carried inside.
Their eyes met briefly.
Ritvika lowered hers instantly.
He didn't say a word.
She didn't either.
Vidyut grabbed his car keys from the nightstand and moved to walk out.
Just as he reached the door, he paused — not turning back.
"Don't touch anything in this house that doesn't belong to you. Don't speak unless asked. And don't try to act like you're part of this family. Because you're not."
With that, he slammed the door behind him, the sound reverberating through her chest.
Ritvika blinked away her tears.
???????
The morning light crept in through the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the room.
The scene inside was just the same as last night — Ritvika curled up uncomfortably on the couch, her body twisted, blanket barely covering her.
And on the bed lay Tara, still tucked gently between the fortress of pillows Ritvika had made, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully.
And beside her...
Vidyut Rajvansh.
Sleeping diagonally on his side of the bed, arm hanging over the edge, his features calm — yet still laced with the sharpness of a storm that never fully rested.
But Ritvika had already been up.
It was 5:00 AM — the time her body had trained itself to rise, not out of habit... but out of survival.
Silently, she got dressed in a soft lavender saree and tied her hair back in a loose braid. Not a single accessory on her. Just her wedding chain and a hint of sindoor. That's it.
She opened the door of the room with practiced softness, making sure the latch didn't click, and walked out.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of early prep.
The silence of the house made every movement sound louder — the cutting of vegetables, the soft clinking of steel, the slight hiss of oil as she prepared parathas.
She made everything — breakfast, tea, even packed a few boxes, just in case.
It was 7:15 when she heard his steps.
Heavy. Unapologetic. Furious.
She didn't even have to turn around to know it was him.
And just like she expected — the moment Vidyut entered the kitchen and saw her standing at the stove — his jaw locked. His eyes narrowed.
"What the hell is this?" he barked.
Ritvika startled, immediately lowering the stove's flame.
"Voh... breakfast banaya tha..." she replied softly.
(.. I made breakfast...)
"Did I ask you to?" his voice was colder now. "Who told you to touch anything in my kitchen?"
She turned toward him, her hands still holding the serving spoon.
"I... I thought since Lata kaki isn't here yet, I should—"
"No. You thought nothing," Vidyut cut her off.
He stepped forward now, his eyes sharp, arms folded across his chest.
"You don't touch things in this house unless I tell you. Don't try to play this 'sanskaari' wife and mother act here. I don't need it. Understand that clearly."
Ritvika lowered her gaze, nodding almost imperceptibly. Her fingers trembled as she turned off the last burner.
He glanced at the plate she had prepared — warm parathas, a bowl of curd, some cut fruit, everything placed neatly. And for some reason, that only made him angrier.
"And stop trying to impress anyone. This isn't your home. You're here because my family forced this marriage on me. Don't forget that."
With that, Vidyut stepped back and stormed out of the kitchen — the sound of his footsteps echoing louder than before.
Ritvika stood still. Her fingers still resting lightly on the hot pan handle, the sting of it going unnoticed.
It wasn't the first time someone shouted at her for doing something right
???????
It was a quiet afternoon.
The sun was high, filtering through the sheer white curtains of the room. The sound of Tara's giggles filled the air, her tiny fingers trying to grab the toy lion that Ritvika was gently moving above her head.
For a brief moment, everything felt... peaceful.
But only until her phone vibrated.
Ritvika's eyes moved to the screen —
"Doctor Rahul Sirohi (Hospital)" — her breath hitched.
Her heart skipped a beat as she stood up, leaving Tara on the bed with her toy.
She walked to the corner of the room and answered the call, her voice soft.
"Hello... Doctor?"
"Yes. Am I speaking to Ms. Ritvika Kapoor?"
The man's tone was calm, professional.
"Yes, I'm Ritvika."
"Ms. Ritvika, I'm Dr. Rahul Sirohi — you had visited us last week for your routine check-up?"
Her heart was already pacing.
She remembered — a week ago, before the chaos of Nisha's wedding, she'd gone in for a general test. Just to be sure.
Just to stay healthy — for Tara.
"Yes, doctor."
"Ma'am, your reports are here. I would suggest you come to the hospital and collect them directly."
Ritvika frowned slightly, gripping the edge of the nightstand for support.
"Actually, doctor... I can't come right now. Could you please send the reports to me online?"
There was a pause on the other side. A pause too long to ignore.
"Ms. Kapoor... with all due respect, I would really prefer if you could come and receive them in person. We should talk face to face."
Ritvika's pulse spiked. Her mouth went dry.
"Is... is there any problem in the reports?" she asked, voice shaky now.
Another pause.
"Ma'am, please. You better come and we'll talk directly."
And just like that — the line disconnected.
Ritvika stood frozen.
The silence in the room suddenly grew louder. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight.
What could be in the reports?
Was it something... serious?
Behind her, Tara continued to play — unaware of her mother's sudden stillness.
Ritvika slowly sat down on the bed, her mind racing.
She looked at Tara — her only anchor — and then at the phone again.
Something was wrong.
Ritvika clutched her purse tightly, her palms slightly sweaty. Her heart was pounding louder than ever. The doctor's words echoed in her ears:
"We'll talk face to face."
Why didn't he just send the reports?
Was something seriously wrong?
She couldn't shake the heaviness that had suddenly taken root in her chest.
Before leaving, she quickly cleaned the room — arranging Tara's scattered toys, folding the blanket, and placing everything back in its place. Wrapping her dupatta properly, she picked up Tara in her arms and headed towards the stairs.
Her steps faltered as her eyes landed on him.
Vidyut was sitting on the living room couch, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, deep in work. He was home today — and that alone was enough to make her nervous.
She knew this wouldn't be simple.
Ritvika swallowed her hesitation and carefully walked down the stairs. Reaching close, she stood at a distance and softly whispered, "Suniye..."
(Listen)
Vidyut's eyes snapped up toward her — sharp and unreadable. He raised one brow, clearly signaling her to speak quickly.
"Voh... mujhe... bahar kuch kaam tha... toh main..." she stammered, voice barely audible, more like a whisper from a frightened bird.
(I... I had some work outside... so I...)
He didn't seem interested in knowing further. Without even looking up again, he said, "So go, na."
His voice was dismissive — cold, curt.
She took a shaky breath and turned toward the main door.
But then—
"Stop."
His deep voice echoed again, stopping her in her tracks.
Ritvika turned back slowly, confused. Before she could ask anything, Vidyut stood up from the couch and walked toward her, towering over her frame.
"Leave Tara here."
Her arms instinctively tightened around her daughter.
"W-Why?" she asked, confused, her voice trembling slightly.
Vidyut looked at her like she had asked the dumbest question in the world.
"Have you seen the sun outside? You want her to fall sick just roaming around in this heat?"
His tone was sharp — irritated, but not cruel.
Ritvika hesitated, rocking Tara gently in her arms.
"She... she might trouble you," she whispered, nervous.
"Are you going on a vacation or what? You'll come back in some time, right?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes.
"And she won't trouble me."
He extended his arms toward Tara, expecting Ritvika to comply.
For a moment, Ritvika didn't move. She just stared at him. This man... who had once looked at her with nothing but disdain... was now asking to hold her daughter. To keep her safe.
Reluctantly, nervously... she leaned forward and handed Tara into Vidyut's arms.
.Tara's tiny head rested against his chest, her arms curled into his t-shirt. Vidyut instinctively shifted her weight, adjusting her comfortably in his arms.
Ritvika's eyes didn't leave her daughter.
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