⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The living room had stilled, only the soft hum of the evening breeze drifting through the curtains. The broken pot lay in shattered silence, but no one paid attention to it anymore. All that mattered was right there—on the couch.
Tara was asleep now, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around Vidyut’s neck, cheek resting against his shoulder as though he were her home. And maybe, somehow, he had become that.
Ritvika sat beside them, her breathing finally even again. Her eyes dropped to the faint red scratch on Vidyut’s wrist—from when Tara had panicked earlier.
“Chot lagi hai…” she murmured instinctively, her voice barely above a whisper.
(You’re hurt…)
Without thinking, her hand reached out. Her slender fingers brushed over the scrape with the gentlest touch, barely grazing his skin.
Vidyut didn’t flinch.
He just watched her.
Watched the way her brows creased in worry… for him.
Her eyes lifted to meet his—and that’s when she realised how close they were.
Their knees almost touching.
His hand still resting on Tara.
Hers… still on his wrist.
Suddenly flustered, she began to pull her hand back, murmuring something under her breath.
But before she could retreat completely—
“Ointment.”
His voice came low, smooth, and very deliberate.
She paused.
“Bring it." he added, eyes not leaving hers.
There was no sarcasm.
No smirk.
Just that quiet, grounded Vidyut tone… the one that disarmed her every time.
Ritvika blinked at him, unsure if he was serious.
But then she caught the corner of his mouth twitching slightly—just a little tease, just enough warmth—and she stood up with a small nod, walking away to grab the ointment from the drawer.
When she returned, she uncapped it and gently dabbed a little on the scratch.
He watched her in silence.
This time, he didn’t look away.
And when her hand lingered a second longer than needed, her face slowly lifting—he just said, soft but firm—
“Thanks.”
No emotion.
No drama.
But something in his gaze made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t understand.
She nodded quietly and sat back beside him.
And in that moment—
With Tara nestled like a koala between them,
With Vidyut’s wrist warm beneath her fingers,
With their breaths aligning softly in the quiet…
After a few long moments of stillness, Vidyut finally rose from the couch, careful not to disturb Tara too much. She stirred a little in her sleep but quickly nestled deeper into his shoulder, her thumb slipping into her mouth as he walked toward their room.
Ritvika watched him disappear down the hallway, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite name.
Without a word, she moved towards the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and quietly followed him.
He had just laid Tara down on the bed, tucking the blanket around her tiny frame with gentle hands.
Ritvika walked in quietly with a glass of water.
Vidyut was near the wardrobe, removing his watch. As she held out the glass, he took it from her, but his gaze stayed fixed on her face.
"Ritvika..."
Her breath hitched slightly.
"Yes?"
"About what you said this morning..." he paused, taking a slow sip, "the work thing."
She instantly grew stiff. "I didn’t mean it seriously... it’s fine, really."
He raised a brow. "If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it. What did you study?"
"MBA," she replied hesitantly. "But I don’t have any job experience."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "MBA and still nervous about work?"
Then quickly added, "No judgment. Happens to the best of us."
She looked down, fidgeting with her dupatta.
"Even if I try, I won’t be able to handle everything... Tara, office—"
He cut in gently but firmly, "Exactly why I’m saying—work with me. My office, my terms. Flexible hours, no pressure. You can prioritize Tara and still do something for yourself."
She blinked, surprised.
"You’re serious?"
He nodded. "You’ll have control over your timings. I’ll be around. Tara will be near. It’ll be easy for you to balance both."
Her eyes searched his face, unsure. "But I might mess up…"
Vidyut stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.
"Then I’ll be there to guide you. Always."
His words weren’t just an offer—they were reassurance.
Ritvika stayed silent, overwhelmed—not by the job offer, but by his steady faith in her. Something she wasn’t used to receiving.
He added softly,
"I trust you, Ritvika. Don’t underestimate yourself."
Ritvika stepped back, clutching the edge of her dupatta, nervously shaking her head.
"I don’t think I should… I mean, it’s not like I have to work, right? And I don’t want to be a burden in your office either."
Vidyut turned toward her, his eyes narrowing slightly — not in anger, but in disbelief.
"A burden?" he repeated. "You’re my wife, not a guest walking on eggshells."
Ritvika flinched slightly at the word wife, lowering her eyes.
"Still... it's your office, your space. I don’t want people to think I’m there just because—"
He took two slow steps forward until they were inches apart.
"Because what?"
She remained silent.
His voice dropped a little more, calm yet commanding.
"Look, Ritvika. You don’t owe explanations to anyone. You’re qualified. You want to work. That’s enough.
And as for others..." he shrugged, "let them talk. They're good at that anyway."
She blinked, stunned at how easily he dismissed what weighed so heavily on her heart.
"But Tara—" she tried again.
He tilted his head, lips twitching into a small smile.
"Tara will be with you. The office has a resting lounge. She loves being around you. Problem solved."
Ritvika still looked unsure.
"I haven’t worked before..."
He leaned a little closer, voice quiet but cutting through her hesitation.
"Then this is where you start. With someone who won’t let you fall."
Her eyes locked with his for a second too long before she quickly turned away, overwhelmed.
Vidyut didn’t push further. He simply added as he turned back to his wardrobe,
"You’re joining from Monday. Whether you believe in yourself or not yet… I do."
And just like that, the conversation was over.
But Ritvika’s world?
Something had definitely shifted.
???????
Next day
Tara had finally drifted off after a long day, cuddled close to her soft bunny toy, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic calm.
Ritvika sat on the bed beside her, absently running her fingers through Tara’s soft curls.
Her mind wasn’t with Tara tonight. It was... with him.
Vidyut was still in the balcony, on a call. His voice was low, assertive — all business.
But occasionally, her eyes stole glances at him — through the glass door, under the glow of the night lamp.
She noticed the way his hand slid through his hair every time he was frustrated.
The way he kept checking the room in between conversations, making sure they were okay.
She felt… something. Unfamiliar. Gentle. safe. Soft.
"No, Ritvika," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head with a smile.
"Don’t go there."
But then he walked in.
Took off his coat.
Sat beside Tara.
Tugged the blanket around her carefully — and whispered, “My little lioness…” with a fond smile.
And then... he looked at Ritvika.
And for once, he didn’t look away.
"You’re awake?" he asked softly, noticing her staring.
Ritvika blinked, embarrassed.
"Hmm? Yes... just checking Tara."
"I saw that," he said, voice playful but quiet.
She fumbled. "I mean—I was just..."
"Looking at me?"
"What....Noo"
He chuckled. "You don't have to explain. I like it. When you look at me."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
He gave a half-smirk, shrugged slightly, and stood.
"Goodnight, Ritvika."
And he walked to his side of the bed, casual and calm.
But Ritvika’s heart?
That wasn’t calm anymore.
The lights were out. Tara was asleep between them.
And yet, Ritvika's eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling.
She had pulled the comforter up to her chin, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her.
His voice echoed again.
“I like it. When you look at me.”
Her breath hitched as she turned slightly, careful not to wake Tara.
She glanced at Vidyut’s side.
His silhouette was peaceful, unmoving. One arm draped loosely over his side.
His chest rising, falling... like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
Was he serious?
Was it a joke?
Or… had she been blind all this time?
Her thoughts raced.
What happened in just a few days?
He was cold. Detached. Angry. Always.
Now... he’s helping with Tara.
He bandaged her foot.
He offered her a job.
He’s noticing her eyes. Her gaze.
“Is this real? Or temporary guilt?”
“Is he being kind because I’m Tara’s mom?”
“Or because I’m… his wife?”
That last word made her throat dry.
She shut her eyes tightly. Tried to shake it off.
But that stupid little smile betrayed her.
She liked it.
She liked the care. The softness. The version of him no one else had seen.
And that terrified her.
Because falling for someone who might not stay kind…
That was dangerous.
But even more dangerous?
Was the feeling that maybe, just maybe… he’d stay.
?? ?
The morning sun filtered in gently through the half-drawn curtains. Tara was quietly stacking her blocks on the carpet, occasionally glancing up at her mother, who was folding clothes with absent fingers.
Vidyut stepped out of the bedroom, tightening his watch strap. Ritvika looked up just as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
He paused at the doorway, eyes lingering on her.
“I’ll be back by five,” he said, voice low but firm.
Ritvika frowned slightly, confused. “Why?”
He turned fully toward her, picking up his car keys. “You have a doctor’s appointment today.”
Her brows rose. “I didn’t book anything.”
“I did.”
She stood still for a beat, caught off guard by the calm certainty in his tone.
“Be ready by then,” he added gently. “It’s just a routine checkup. Nothing to worry about.”
Ritvika hesitated. She wanted to ask why—why he was being this attentive, this involved. But something in the way he looked at her, so quietly certain, held her back.
“Okay,” she finally whispered.
Vidyut nodded and turned to leave, but just before stepping out, he looked back over his shoulder.
“And don’t think about canceling it. I’ll be home on time.”
Then he left.
The door closed behind him, but his presence lingered in the silence.
Ritvika stood there, heart quietly racing.
He remembered. He scheduled it. He cared.
She sat down slowly beside Tara, her mind replaying the moment again and again.
What changed in just a few days?
And why did it feel like she was the one changing too?
?? ?
The clock ticked closer to 4:30, and the quiet hum of the house settled around Ritvika as she stood in front of the mirror, holding a pale pink kurta against herself.
It wasn’t fancy. Just soft, simple cotton. But today… somehow it felt different.
She bit her lower lip, her eyes drifting to the slight sheen of lip balm she’d just applied. A gentle blush tinted her cheeks—both from the light touch of makeup and from something deeper. Something fluttery. Unspoken.
He had booked the appointment. He remembered. He’s coming back just for it.
Tara stood nearby on the bed, watching her mother with big curious eyes, chewing on her plush bunny’s ear.
Ritvika turned toward her with a tiny nervous smile, adjusting her dupatta and brushing down invisible creases.
"Do I look okay, baby?" she asked, softly.
Tara gave an excited little nod and clapped.
That made her laugh, heart suddenly lighter. She picked up Tara and twirled once, giggling as the toddler squealed.
Then she set her down and quickly dabbed perfume on her wrists. Not too much. Just enough.
She checked the clock again—4:48.
The butterflies returned, dancing in her stomach.
Why does it matter so much how I look? Why do I care that he’ll see me like this?
And yet… she did.
With one last glance in the mirror, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered to herself—
"Stop overthinking."
But the smile on her lips betrayed the very thing she was trying to hide.
She was blushing.
For him.
And deep down, she knew—this was new. This was real.
The car glided through the streets of the city, but Vidyut’s mind wasn’t on the road.
His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, but his thoughts... they were on her.
On Ritvika.
On the way she had tried to hide her surprise that morning when he mentioned the doctor’s appointment.
She hadn’t expected it.
She hadn’t expected him.
Not to remember. Not to care.
And yet, here he was. Ten minutes early. A whole board meeting cut short because he didn’t want to be late.
What’s happening to me?
He exhaled sharply, almost amused.
This wasn’t him. The Vidyut everyone knew — the man who built walls, not homes... who kept people out, not close.
And yet… she was changing that. Quietly. Gently.
He remembered her flustered voice the previous night, her tiny wince as he dabbed the ointment on her forehead. The way she had looked up at him — confused, shy, vulnerable.
She’s scared. Not of me. But of hoping too much.
He knew that look. He had worn it once himself — long ago, before life knocked the softness out of him.
But she…
She was bringing it back.
The innocence. The warmth. The quiet presence that didn't demand but stayed.
He slowed the car as he neared the gates of the house.
Was this really just a marriage of names anymore?
He didn’t know when the line had blurred.
But it had.
And maybe… maybe he didn’t want to fix it.
The moment he stepped inside the house, the faint scent of jasmine hit him. Not artificial — the real kind. Warm, lingering, gentle.
His eyes scanned the hallway casually… until they landed on her.
And just like that, something shifted.
Ritvika stood near the console table, adjusting the tiny strap of her watch. Her dupatta was neatly pinned, the soft pink of her suit complimenting the faint blush on her cheeks — a blush that had nothing to do with makeup.
She looked… different.
No. Not different.
She looked his.
His grip on the car keys tightened.
What the hell was that thought?
She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her eyes were focused downward, lips slightly parted as if she was mentally rehearsing something.
He should’ve looked away.
He didn’t.
Instead, his gaze dropped — from the soft strands of hair tucked behind her ears… to the nervous fidget of her fingers… to the delicate curve of her neckline.
His heart?
It did something.
It stuttered.
And he hated that he noticed it.
He cleared his throat.
Ritvika’s head snapped up, eyes wide — startled.
And then she gave that tiny, awkward smile — the one she always gave when she didn’t know what to say.
Something about it knocked the air out of his lungs.
Stop it. She’s just dressed for a doctor’s appointment, not a date.
But his mind wasn’t listening.
Because all he could see was her.
Just then, the echo of hurried footsteps and a tiny voice filled the corridor.
"Biiiig maaaaan!"
Vidyut blinked, breaking out of the moment just in time to catch Tara as she came charging toward him like a storm in a tutu.
He crouched instinctively, arms wide open, and scooped her up in one swift motion.
“Oof, my little hurricane,” he muttered under his breath, pulling her close.
Tara giggled and snuggled into his neck, throwing her arms around him like she hadn’t seen him in days — when in fact, it had only been hours.
Ritvika stood still for a second, a soft smile curving on her lips at the scene before her — her daughter tangled in the arms of a man who once terrified her… and now looked like her world.
Vidyut glanced up at Ritvika, Tara still in his arms.
Their eyes met.
And that moment — unspoken, fragile, charged — hung heavy between them again.
But this time, it wasn’t awkward.
It was something… new.
"You ready?" he asked casually, shifting Tara slightly as she clung to him like a baby monkey.
Ritvika nodded softly, brushing back a loose hair behind her ear.
"Yeah, just… let me grab my file."
"We’ll wait in the car," he said, eyes still lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.
And as he walked out with Tara babbling in his arms and Ritvika following behind — her heart was louder than her footsteps.
Ritvika stepped out with the file clutched to her chest, her eyes naturally falling on the way he adjusted Tara’s tiny jacket with practiced gentleness.
She hadn’t imagined this side of him when she first came here.
No one would’ve.
As she reached closer, Vidyut straightened up and walked over to the passenger door — and without saying a word, opened it for her.
Ritvika blinked.
Just a second of hesitation — and she stepped in quietly, murmuring a soft, “Thank you.”
The door closed behind her with a quiet click. He walked around the car, slipped into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
The radio played low — some soft instrumental jazz she couldn’t name — and for a while, the only sounds were Tara humming in the backseat and the low rumble of the engine.
Ritvika dared a glance sideways.
Vidyut’s hand rested on the steering wheel, other arm relaxed on the door, his face unreadable. But there was a calmness in his profile that felt new… grounding.
“You okay?” he asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.
She nodded quickly.
“Yes. Just… a little nervous.”
A brief pause.
“I’ll be right there.”
Simple. Firm. Reassuring.
It wasn’t much.
But it meant more than she could explain.
And though she kept her gaze fixed outside the window, she couldn’t stop the faint blush from creeping up her neck.
The clinic smelled faintly of eucalyptus and disinfectant — sterile, quiet, and softly lit. Ritvika sat beside Vidyut on the leather chair in the waiting room, her fingers curled into her dupatta, heart thudding for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
Tara sat on her lap, content and humming to herself, occasionally playing with the buttons on Vidyut’s sleeve. Vidyut, as usual, sat upright — calm on the outside, but his eyes occasionally flicked toward Ritvika.
The nurse called her name, and before she could react, Vidyut stood.
"Come on. Let’s go."
He picked Tara up effortlessly and guided Ritvika inside.
Soon the doctor's visit ended.
The car ride was unusually quiet.
Tara sat between them in her booster seat, swinging her tiny legs and humming something off-key. The gentle hum of the engine filled the space as the car glided through city lights.
Ritvika kept glancing outside, expecting them to turn toward home. But Vidyut didn’t take the familiar turn.
She looked at him, puzzled.
“This… this isn’t the way back.”
He didn’t look at her, just said calmly,
“We’re going somewhere else.”
Tara gasped excitedly, clapping her hands.
“Ileammmmmm!”
(Ice cream)
Vidyut chuckled softly, eyes still on the road.
“Sure My kitten.”
Ten minutes later, the car pulled into the basement parking of a five-star hotel. The entrance was regal, warm lights glowing across a stone-clad facade, valet staff already approaching the car.
Ritvika’s heart skipped a beat. She immediately felt out of place.
Vidyut got out first, lifted Tara in one arm, and came around to open Ritvika’s door. She stepped out hesitantly, adjusting her dupatta like it could hide the nervousness rising in her chest.
He didn’t say much, just held Tara securely and walked ahead with quiet confidence. Ritvika followed, her steps faltering as they entered the grand lobby — chandeliers above, polished floors below, and everything around them too elegant, too shiny.
The restaurant was dimly lit and elegant, filled with the gentle clinking of silverware and soft instrumental music. A host guided them to a window-side table. Vidyut sat with Tara on his lap, and Ritvika sat opposite them, her back stiff, hands awkwardly folded in her lap.