⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
I stirred softly, my eyes blinking open as the gentle sunlight slipped past the curtains and kissed my face. The morning felt different—warmer somehow. As I adjusted to the light and turned my face sideways…
I froze.
A small smile crept up on my lips as I witnessed the most beautiful scene my eyes could ever capture.
Tara.
My baby… sprawled comfortably on his chest.
Her tiny mouth was slightly open, drool collecting at the edge of her lips, one hand curled on his shirt like she was claiming her territory. Her little legs rested on his stomach, her bunny soft toy squished between them.
Vidyut was sleeping like a log beneath her, one arm protectively resting around her back, his head slightly turned, breathing even.
A peaceful sight. A complete one. My baby... her dadda.
But then...
Suddenly, my cheeks burned as memories of last night flooded back in.
That kiss.
Yes.
I wasn’t asleep.
I was lying there silently, pretending — hoping for sleep, eyes shut, heart restless.
And then… I felt it.
A gentle brush of his lips on my forehead. Soft. Slow. Hesitant.
My breath had hitched.
Vidyut… kissed me.
My heart had done a somersault, then danced, then crumbled and then bloomed — all in one moment. It wasn’t just a peck. It was something else. Something I couldn’t name. Couldn’t define.
And now, remembering it…
Oh God.
I closed my eyes tightly, my hand flying to my lips.
He really did that.
Vidyut Rajvansh — the man who barely looked me in the eye when we first married, the man who kept distance, who hated my presence — kissed me.
Yes, it was on the forehead.
But to me…
It meant the world.
A smile, foolish and unfiltered, stretched across my face as I slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake them. I grabbed my phone and turned back, unable to resist.
I clicked a photo.
My daughter. Her dadda.
Perfect.
I set it as my wallpaper. Then… like a hopeless idiot, I kissed the screen.
"I’m so gone," I whispered, laughing at myself.
I don’t know what was happening with me. Why I was glowing like a teenager in love. But whatever this was, it was beautiful.
I hummed softly as I walked to the wardrobe, choosing a sky-blue saree — my favorite. It felt right today. I took my time draping it, brushing my hair, drying it gently and letting it flow.
Skincare. Lip tint. A soft kajal.
And all the while, I smiled.
Smiled like an idiot. Like a girl who had just discovered a reason to hope again.
I tiptoed back into the bedroom. My eyes landed on the duo still sleeping. Tara had moved a little but was still clinging to his chest. Vidyut hadn’t moved an inch.
I moved slowly to the bed.
Bending down, I placed a soft kiss on Tara’s forehead.
Then… hesitantly, nervously, heart drumming...
I leaned forward again.
A soft kiss on his cheek.
I pulled back instantly, panicked and flushed, eyes wide — but he didn’t stir. Relief swept over me.
Still smiling like a fool, I turned around and walked out of the room — twirling slightly as I did.
Wow. This feeling.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
But for the first time in a long time…
It feels like I’m alive.
Smiling like a complete idiot, I walked into the living room — feeling like I was floating on clouds. I don’t know what had taken over me, but everything today felt... special.
Different. Soft. Warm.
In the living room, I spotted Maa and Chachi standing in front of the temple, performing the morning puja. The soft chime of bells, the scent of incense… everything felt peaceful.
I quietly joined them, folding my hands and bowing my head.
But the smile on my face?
It refused to leave.
My lips were hurting from smiling too much but my heart… oh my heart was just dancing.
I looked up slightly and whispered softly, “Thank you so much Bhagwaan ji… thankuuuuuuu...”
My heart truly meant it. Thank you for this morning. For this happiness. For this peace.
After the puja, I bent down to touch Chachi and Maa’s feet. They both blessed me lovingly.
But then…
Chachi's voice cut through the silence teasingly.
"Aaj toh badi khush lag rahi hai humari bahu… kya baat hai?"
(Our daughter-in-law looks very happy today… what's the matter?)
She chuckled, clearly amused.
I looked up at her in embarrassment, instantly trying to wipe the smile off my face — but it just wouldn’t go. I bit my lower lip, trying hard to suppress it, but I was glowing from the inside.
And then Maa joined in, smiling knowingly as she added fuel to the fire:
"Arey Parul, kyun nahi khush hogi? Uska pati jo wapas aaya hai itne dino baad."
(Parul, why wouldn't she be happy? Her husband has returned after so many days.)
My cheeks burned. My eyes widened.
Oh God. No. No. No.
I wanted to melt right there. Hide somewhere. Anywhere.
I instantly turned my face away, covering my cheeks with the edge of my pallu, feeling the heat crawl all the way to my ears.
I was definitely looking like a tomato right now.
They both giggled, clearly enjoying my awkwardness, and all I could do was stand there—heart racing, smile refusing to leave, and cheeks redder than ever.
But somewhere deep inside…
It felt nice.
To be teased like this.
To be blushing for my husband.
To feel… married.
For the first time…
I didn’t mind it.
Just as I was about to escape from Maa and Chachi's teasing giggles, I heard his voice — deep, husky, echoing softly from the corridor.
“Ritvika...”
My breath hitched.
I turned my head toward the room. My heart fluttered in a way I couldn’t explain. Even his voice now held a different power over me.
I quickly composed myself, whispered a soft “Aayi maa” to them and almost jogged my way toward our room, my saree swishing lightly with each step.
He was standing there near the bed, the soft morning sun casting a halo around him. Tara was in his arms, her little hands tugging at his collar sleepily.
My heart melted.
That sight... Tara in his arms... him calling me...
I blinked, trying to compose my goofy smile but failed miserably.
“Yeh lo... uth gayi tumhari princess,” he said softly, passing Tara to me.
(Here you go... your princess has woken up.)
I instantly took her in my arms, holding her close, the warmth of her tiny body snuggling into mine. I could still feel his touch lingering on my arm as he passed her to me.
Oh God...
Why was I feeling like this? Why was my heart beating so fast?
“Main... main uska bath karwa deti hoon,” I managed to say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, avoiding his eyes as my cheeks burned crimson.
(I... I'll give her a bath,)
He didn’t say anything—just nodded. But I could feel his gaze lingering.
As I walked toward the bathroom holding Tara, she suddenly looked up at me, rubbed her eyes, and mumbled, “Dadda...”
I smiled, radiant.
“I know betu… Dadda is home,” I whispered, kissing her soft hair.
Inside the bathroom, as I bathed my daughter, she kept giggling and splashing water, and I—
I kept thinking about him.
Why does everything feel so special today?
Why does his one glance make my hands tremble?
Why am I smiling like a fool... for just hearing my name from his lips?
“Ritvika...”
I repeated softly, letting the name linger in the air as I poured water gently on Tara’s head.
God… what are you doing to me, Vidyut Rajvansh?
“No! No! I no go office!” she cried, her small fists pressing against his chest.
Startled, Vidyut quickly placed her down.
He kneeled in front of her, concern flashing in his eyes. “Why, kitten? What happened, baby?”
Tara shook her head furiously, pout forming as her eyes welled up. “Aunty hult Taraaa...” she said in a broken voice, pointing at her tiny arms.
Ritvika froze.
The color from her face drained in a second.
She immediately crouched down beside Tara, trying to calm her down. “N-no, baby… it’s nothing, okay? Aunty didn’t hurt you. You were dreaming, my love.” Her voice trembled as she tried to take her into her arms.
But Vidyut didn’t budge. His strong arm gently but firmly stopped her. His eyes didn’t leave Tara’s.
“What are you saying, Princess? Who hurt you?” his voice had dropped — sharp, protective, angry.
“Vidyut, it’s nothing! She’s just blabbering, kids say anything...” Ritvika tried to speak quickly, nervously, desperate to brush it under the rug.
But Vidyut’s jaw was clenched now. One sharp glance silenced her completely.
He bent a little closer to Tara again. “Baby, who hurt you? Tell Dadda.”
Tara sniffled and extended her chubby hand toward her upper arm. “That Aunty… hult Tara here…” she mumbled innocently, her lips wobbling.
Ritvika’s hand trembled.
She tried to step in again, “Vidyut, please... I-I handled it. I told her—”
But Vidyut stood up straight, the storm in his eyes fierce now. His hands clenched at his sides. His chest was heaving as rage brewed inside him.
With a cold calmness, he turned toward Manisha, who had walked in sensing the tension.
“Maa, please take Tara inside.”
“Kya hua—”
“Please.” he cut her firmly.
Manisha quietly picked Tara in her arms and walked away, softly humming to distract the little one.
Vidyut then turned fully toward Ritvika. His voice low, composed, but deadly.
“What. Is. She. Saying?”
Ritvika swallowed, her throat dry, her hands clammy.
“I—I wasn’t going to tell… because it’s Meher and…
and she’s been with you for long and maybe I misunderstood but…
that day in office… she took Tara out of the playroom saying I had called her.
.. I didn’t. When I found her, Tara was crying and her arms were red.
I confronted Meher but she acted innocent… ”
She said it all — trembling, hesitating, trying to protect everyone but unable to lie anymore.
Vidyut’s knuckles turned white.
He turned away, jaw ticking, his rage visibly burning through his skin.
Without saying a word, he pulled out his phone, typed something furiously, and shoved it back into his pocket.
“You’re not coming to office today. You’ll work from home. That’s final.”
“But Vidyut, I—”
One glare. That was all it took.
Ritvika lowered her eyes, biting her lip, and nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Without another word, Vidyut stormed out of the house. The front door shut with a sharp thud as his car roared to life in the driveway.
And Ritvika…
She stood frozen in place, her heartbeat deafening in her ears.
Because this wasn’t just anger.
This was Vidyut Rajvansh’s fury unleashed — for his daughter.
The glass doors of Rajvansh Empire flung open with a bang.
Every head in the office snapped toward the entrance as Vidyut Rajvansh walked in — his strides sharp, face carved in pure rage, jaw clenched so tight it looked like steel.
His eyes — bloodshot, stormy, lethal.
Even the air seemed to thicken around him. The usual pin-drop silence of his presence turned into a terrifying stillness today.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t look.
He simply marched straight to his cabin, pushing open the door so hard it banged against the wall.
Within seconds, his voice thundered from inside.
"CALL MEHER. NOW."
The receptionist jumped, scrambling to make the call.
One minute later, Meher entered the cabin, heels clicking on the floor, face still composed — unaware of the storm she had summoned upon herself.
“Sir... you called—”
SLAM.
Vidyut's fist came down heavily on the glass table, rattling it violently.
“WHY DID YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER?” he thundered, his voice echoing off the walls like a war cry.
Meher flinched, eyes wide.
“S-sir… I—I didn’t mean—she was crying, so I just—”
“Don’t you DARE lie to me!” Vidyut roared, stepping closer, his towering figure looming over her.
“You manipulated the staff. You bruised her arms. You terrified a two-year-old child. Are you out of your damn mind?”
Meher’s lips quivered, her voice trembling now, but laced with venom.
“Sir, she’s just a spoilt brat! And that Ritvika—”
CRASH!
The entire office outside jumped at the shattering sound.
The glass table had smashed beneath Vidyut’s palm, shards flying to the floor.
His eyes burned. His voice? A low, menacing growl.
“Say. One. More. Word. About. My. Wife… and I will chop off your tongue and bury it with your career.”
Meher stumbled back, pale as death.
“I tolerated your arrogance. Even your incompetence. But the moment you laid a finger on my daughter—”
He took a step forward, his aura dark and suffocating.
“You signed your death warrant.”
Meher opened her mouth to say something again—
“I want your resignation letter on my desk in the next five minutes. If not... I swear, I will drag you out of this office myself and show you what hell looks like.”
Tears brimmed in Meher’s eyes now, her knees weak.
“Out. NOW.” Vidyut hissed.
Meher ran out, almost tripping, her pride crushed beneath Vidyut Rajvansh’s wrath.
He stood there alone now, chest heaving, broken glass around his feet, eyes still burning.
Because no one—no one—hurts his daughter.
And no one dares insult his wife.
The sun was mellow, casting golden rays through the half-pulled curtains of the room.
Ritvika sat on the bed, laptop in front of her, trying to focus on the screen—but her eyes… they drifted.
To the door.
To her phone.
To thoughts of Vidyut.
She sighed softly, brushing her hair behind her ears as she mindlessly tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “Kya kar rahe honge abhi…?”
(What must he be doing now?)
Her heart fluttered for no reason.
Just then—
Knock knock.
The door creaked open and Manisha and Parul stepped inside with warm smiles.
Ritvika immediately straightened and got up from the bed, offering them seats on the couch.
“Maa… chachi… aaiye na, please sit.”
The two women exchanged a look and sat down comfortably.
Manisha was the first to speak, her tone soft but layered with meaning.
“Ritvika, kal Vidyut ki bua ji aa rahi hain…” she began.
(Ritvika, Vidyut's aunt is coming tomorrow...)
Ritvika looked at her curiously, giving a small nod.
“Woh thodi… strict nature ki hain. Apne vows aur traditions mein bahut strong belief karti hain. Tum samajh rahi ho na beta?”
(She is a bit strict by nature. Very strong about her vows and traditions. You understand, right, dear?)
Ritvika immediately nodded respectfully, “Ji maa, samajh gayi. I’ll be careful.”
"But she is sweet too"
Just then, Parul let out a soft cough, clearly holding something back.
She looked at Manisha and quipped,
“Bhabhi... aap kya keh rahi ho? Sweet and bua ji? Wah!”
(Bhabhi… what are you saying? Sweet and Bua ji? )
She chuckled lightly.
“Sweet toh bas unke laddoo hote hain, aur baaki bas strictness aur taaney.”
(Only her sweets are sweet… otherwise, it’s all taunts and discipline.)
Manisha tried to suppress a laugh, elbowing Parul gently, “Arey bas kar. Ladki ko dara mat.”
(Stop it, don’t scare the girl.)
Parul grinned, “Dara nahi rahi hoon, bas sach bata rahi hoon. Bas yeh yaad rakhna—kam bolna, zyada muskuraana.
(I’m not scaring her, just telling the truth. Just remember—talk less, smile more.)
Ritvika blushed lightly, smiling shyly as she folded her hands in her lap.
“Main dhyaan rakhungi. Thank you maa, chachi.”
Both women patted her cheek affectionately before getting up.
As they walked toward the door, Parul muttered under her breath with a mischievous smile—
“Kal ka din drama se bhara hoga…”
(Tomorrow will be a day full of drama)
And Ritvika could only smile nervously, already wondering what kind of storm Bua ji was going to bring into their peaceful house tomorrow.
The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the polished floor of the Rajvansh Mansion.
Vidyut entered, his shirt sleeves folded, hair tousled messily, eyes heavy with fatigue. He dropped his bag near the table and sank into the couch, his posture slouched and eyes closed, exhaustion clearly evident.
Just then, Ritvika stepped into the living room, holding a glass of water. Her steps halted for a moment when she saw him—drained, worn-out, vulnerable. She walked closer and extended the glass silently.
Vidyut opened his eyes, murmuring a low “Thanks”, and as he reached out to take the glass—
Ritvika’s eyes instantly widened.
His knuckles were wrapped in a fresh bandage. Redness visible even beneath the gauze.
Her breath hitched.
“Yeh… yeh kaise lagi aapko?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft, worried.
Vidyut looked at his hand and shrugged like it was no big deal.
“Kuch nahi… bas office mein thoda…” he trailed off, avoiding her gaze.
But Ritvika didn’t let it go.
Without a word, she gently took the glass back, placed it on the table, and caught hold of his uninjured hand.
“Chaliye,” she said firmly.
(Let go)
“Kahaan?” he asked, slightly amused but too tired to resist.
(Where)
“Room mein. Abhi dressing change karni padegi.”
(In the room. I will have to change the dressing now.)
Before he could protest, she led him to the room.
Bedroom.
Vidyut sat on the edge of the bed, watching silently as Ritvika moved around swiftly. She fetched the first-aid box, opened it with practiced hands, and sat beside him.
Gently, with care that made his heart thud, she unwrapped the bandage. Her brows furrowed at the dried blood and angry red bruises underneath.
“Yeh lag kaise gyi?” she asked softly without looking up.
(How did it happen?)
He didn’t answer.
Just kept watching her.
She dabbed antiseptic with cotton, blowing lightly after each touch, as if the pain was hers.
“Dard ho raha hai?” she asked when he flinched slightly.
(Is it hurting?)
He chuckled lowly.
Ritvika froze for a second, her heart skipping a beat, then she quietly continued dressing the wound. Her fingers trembling ever so slightly.
There was silence between them—unspoken words hanging in the air.
But in that moment, only one thing mattered—
Her care. His quiet surrender.
After gently tending to his wound, Ritvika softly dusted and adjusted the bedsheet around him, tucking it neatly.
“Aap change kar lijiye aur thoda aaram kijiye… you’re looking really tired,” she whispered softly, her eyes filled with concern.
(You can change and get some rest)
Vidyut merely hummed in response, too drained to argue. He slowly stood up and walked towards the wardrobe. Ritvika watched him silently, her heart tugging at the sight of his slouched shoulders and sluggish movements.
A few minutes later, he returned—changed into a comfortable t-shirt and lowers. His hair still damp from a quick splash of water.
Before she could speak again, he walked straight to the bed… and without a word, lowered his head onto Ritvika’s lap.
She froze.
Her breath caught in her throat as a sudden warmth crept up her chest. A quiet flutter. A small chaos. A garden of butterflies in her stomach.
“Vidyut…” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
But instead of answering, he slowly took her hand and placed it in his hair—seeking comfort. A silent plea.
Ritvika blinked, heart racing. A foolish, idiotic smile spread across her face as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair. Softly. Tenderly. Like he’d shatter if she pressed too hard.
He didn’t move again.
Just lay there silently, breathing deeper, slower.
After a few minutes, she noticed his grip had loosened, his chest rising and falling steadily.
He had fallen asleep.
She checked the time on the clock—past dinner already.
With careful hands, she lifted his head and gently placed it onto a pillow, tucking the comforter over him. Then, tiptoeing out, she returned shortly with two plates of food in hand and set them on the side table.
Leaning over him softly, she whispered,
“Vidyut… uth jaiye… dinner kar lijiye…”
(Vidyut… get up… have dinner…)
He stirred slightly but didn’t open his eyes.
“Bhookh nahi hai,” came his hushed reply, almost inaudible.
(I am not hungry)
“Vidyut… please…”
“Nahi chahiye… thak gaya hoon,” he murmured again, curling slightly into the comforter.
(I don’t want it… I am tired.)
Ritvika sighed and slowly picked up the plates again. She carried them back to the kitchen, stored them carefully in the fridge, and walked back into the room.
Her eyes softened the moment she saw him—Vidyut Rajvansh, the man who once terrified her, now sleeping like a child on their bed.
A smile played on her lips. She quietly sat down on her side of the bed, the moonlight casting a faint glow across the room.
And then…
A thought crossed her mind.
A soft giggle escaped Ritvika’s lips, uncontainable, foolish.
She gently got off the bed, stealing one last glance at the sleeping Vidyut, his expression peaceful and free of the harshness he usually wore. Something in her heart sighed.
Walking towards the drawer near the dresser, she quietly opened it and pulled out the small amber bottle of massage oil—the one prescribed by the doctor for her swollen feet.
“lagta hai aaj kisi aur ko zarurat hai iski,” she whispered under her breath, eyeing Vidyut’s feet still covered under the comforter.
(Looks like someone else needs it today.)
She poured a small amount into a steel bowl and tiptoed into the kitchen. The house was still, silent except for the hum of the night. At the stove, she gently warmed the oil, stirring it with her finger to test the temperature.
Holding the bowl carefully, she made her way back into the bedroom.
Vidyut hadn’t moved. Still sprawled across the bed, one leg slightly extended, his hand resting loosely beside him.
She sat down beside his feet and took a deep breath.
“Bas halka sa lagaungi… shayad thoda comfort mil jaaye…” she mumbled to herself, dipping her fingers into the warm oil.
(I will just apply it lightly… maybe I will get some comfort)
Just as she reached forward to apply the oil onto his foot—
Vidyut shot up.
His hand immediately gripped her wrist.
Eyes wide open.
Alert. Awake. Confused.
And then—locked onto her.