⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Vidyut shot up like a current had jolted through him. His eyes were wide, alert—scanning, disoriented. His gaze first landed on Ritvika, kneeling beside him, then shifted to the bowl of oil in her hand.
Running a tired hand over his face, his voice came out low and gravelly.
“What are you doing?”
Ritvika blinked at his sudden movement, her fingers tightening around the bowl.
“I... I thought you must have pain in your feet,” she replied softly, choosing her words carefully, her eyes gentle. “So... I thought I would apply some oil.”
Before she could lean forward to touch his feet, Vidyut instantly reached out and grasped her hands, stopping her midway. His grip was firm, yet not harsh—his eyes unreadable.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. "Don’t touch my feet."
Ritvika froze, unsure what she had done wrong. She nodded slowly, withdrawing her hands with a small, awkward nod. Vidyut’s eyes lowered again… and landed on the oil.
“This green-coloured oil?” he asked, pointing toward the bowl. “Where did you get this from?”
Ritvika blinked in confusion, then glanced at the bowl in her hand. A shy little smile tugged her lips.
“Doctor prescribed it... for me. For my swollen feet.”
She giggled softly, trying to lighten the moment.
But Vidyut stilled.
His eyes snapped to hers.
“Your feet are swollen?” he repeated, almost as if the words hadn’t registered the first time.
Without waiting another second, he leaned down and gently took one of her feet into his hands.
Ritvika’s breath hitched.
His brows furrowed immediately as his fingers softly skimmed the swollen skin around her ankle.
His heart dropped. Guilt pricked his chest.
“You didn’t tell me about this?”
His voice was low but not angry—concerned, intense.
“Why didn’t you say anything, Ritvika?” he asked again, inspecting the other foot now with even more care.
“Tum kabse ignore kar rahi ho isse?”
(Since when have you been ignoring this?)
Ritvika sat speechless, watching the feared, distant Vidyut Rajvansh gently hold her feet like she was made of glass.
The silence between them was loud now.
His next words weren’t anger—but something that sounded a lot like... care.
“Tumhe bola tha na… doctor ne... sab follow karo properly. Yeh chhoti baat nahi hai.”
(I told you, right? Follow everything the doctor says properly. This isn’t a small issue.)
His hands didn’t leave her feet.
And her heart… didn’t stop racing.
Ritvika quickly tried to shrug off the tension, choosing to steer the moment somewhere lighter. She sighed and said sweetly, "Vidyut... ab aap uth gaye hai toh dinner kar lijiye."
(Now that you're awake, please have dinner.)
But Vidyut leaned back against the bedframe, his tone nonchalant.
"I'm not hungry."
Ritvika instantly pouted, her big eyes pleading like a child.
"Please... thoda sa. Ab toh aap uth bhi gaye ho na..."
(Please… just a little. Now that you’re already up...)
Vidyut gave a defeated sigh, clearly no match for those puppy eyes.
"...Fine."
His voice was low but indulgent.
Ritvika beamed, her face lighting up in genuine happiness.
"Main abhi leke aati hoon dinner!"
(I’ll just bring the food!)
She was about to hop off the bed when—
"Ruko."
(Stop)
Vidyut’s voice stopped her mid-step. She turned, confused.
"Bahar hi chalte hai dono. Tum baar baar aana jaana band karo."
(Let’s just go there only. No need for you to keep going back and forth.)
He said it casually, but Ritvika could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
She nodded silently and turned to leave, but again—
"Aur suno..."
(And listen)
His voice stopped her once more.
"Kapde badlo. Maine tumhare liye isiliye toh laaye the… ki tum comfortable raho. Phir bhi raat mein yeh heavy kapde pehenti ho."
(And listen… change your clothes. I brought those for you so you’d be comfortable. Yet you still wear these heavy clothes at night.)
Ritvika looked at him sheepishly, caught.
Then with a soft smile, she nodded.
"Aap yahin rukiye... main abhi aayi."
(You stay right here… I’ll be back in a minute.)
She ran off to the bathroom, her saree swaying behind her.
Five minutes later, the door creaked open and Ritvika stepped out—dressed in a comfortable green lower and T-shirt set. The soft cotton clung delicately to her form, and her hair was loosely tied. Her cheeks had a natural pink hue, and her smile—radiant.
She motioned toward the door.
"Chaliye?"
(Shall we?)
They walked down the quiet corridor together.
The house was silent.
In the kitchen, Ritvika quickly heated the food and arranged two plates neatly on the dining table. She handed one to Vidyut and sat across from him.
Vidyut looked at her plate, then raised an eyebrow.
"Abhi tak khana nahi khaya?"
(You still haven’t eaten?)
Ritvika mumbled softly, sheepishly,
"Bhook nahi thi..."
(Wasn’t hungry...)
Vidyut sighed.
"Tumhein dawai bhi leni hai, yaad hai?"
(You have to take your medicine too, remember?)
Ritvika gave him the same puppy eyes again, silently pleading for his forgiveness.
He looked away and muttered under his breath,
"...Okay. Now eat fast."
Ritvika giggled softly and began to munch on her food, her smile never fading.
There was something radiant in her face. Something warm.
Something that made Vidyut’s tired heart... do a little happy dance.
After finishing dinner and putting away the dishes, we both made our way back to the room. Vidyut sat on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone, his forehead creased in quiet focus.
I turned to walk towards the wardrobe, thinking I’d quickly organize the sarees and sort out Tara’s freshly washed clothes. But barely had I taken two steps when—
“Where?”
His deep voice stopped me mid-stride. I turned around.
“V-voh… wardrobe mein kapde thik karne hain. Aap so jaiye, main jaldi se finish karke aati hoon.”
(I just need to fix the clothes in the wardrobe. You sleep, I’ll be quick.)
Vidyut sighed and looked up at me, his expression half strict, half exasperated.
“Pura din kaam hi karna hai bas tumhe? Pehle idhar aao aur medicines lo… mujhe toh shak hai, jab itna bhulti ho toh mere peeche medicines li bhi hain ya nahi.”
(You just want to keep working all day? First come here and take your medicines… I’m sure you’ve skipped a few when I wasn’t around.)
I bit my tongue guiltily, caught red-handed.
“Abhi leti hoon! But I swear maine saari medicines li hain.”
(I’ll take them now! But I swear I’ve taken them all.)
I pinched my throat in promise like a child.
He narrowed his eyes but pulled out the medicine strip anyway.
“Haan thik hai, aao ab idhar.”
(Yeah right, come here now.)
I walked over and obediently took the tablets from his hand, gulping them down with water. Before I could make a run again, my eyes fell on the wardrobe and—of course—my hands itched.
Just as I turned, he groaned, rubbing his face.
“Arey yaar! Kitna kaam karogi? Chup chaap idhar baitho.”
(Ugh! How much will you work? Just sit here quietly.)
His tone was strict, making me blink.
I gulped, startled by his commanding tone, and slowly sat down on the bed like a scolded schoolgirl.
“Par voh clothes—”
(But those clothes—)
“Haan Madam ji! Saara kaam abhi kar lena tum.”
(Yes, Madam ji! Finish all the work right now, please!)
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips hearing Madam ji. There was something oddly sweet about the way he said it. Something warm.
“Pair idhar karo.”
(Put your feet here.)
“Huh?” I blinked, unsure.
“I said show me your legs.” His tone was firm.
I sat frozen, not understanding.
With a quiet sigh, Vidyut leaned forward, grabbed my legs gently, and pulled them into his lap before I could protest.
“Vidyut! Aap yeh—”
(Vidyut! You—)
“Shhh.”
He hushed me with a simple sound and picked up the bowl of warm oil from the nightstand.
And then… his fingers touched my feet.
A gasp escaped my lips as I felt a soft shiver run through my spine. My heart fluttered wildly.
He was… massaging my swollen feet.
With such care. With so much tenderness that it made my throat tighten.
I wanted to stop him. I didn’t want him to… serve me like this. I didn’t deserve this softness. But no matter how many times I tried to lift my feet away, he kept them firmly in place, rubbing the oil in slow, circular motions, pressing gently into the sore muscles.
“Tara aaj Aarush ke saath hi sone wali hai?”
(Tara’s going to sleep with Aarush tonight?)
He asked casually, pulling me out of my daze.
“Y-yes… she wasn’t leaving him.”
I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper.
Vidyut just hummed in reply, not looking up. He stayed focused on my feet, massaging like it was the most normal thing in the world—
I was still processing what just happened.
Vidyut Rajvansh… massaged my swollen feet.
Who does that?
Which husband notices things I don’t even speak about?
Which husband tells you off for overworking… but then kneels down and rubs warm oil into your tired skin like it’s his responsibility, not mine?
And what do I do in return?
Nothing. Just sit there like an idiot—heart pounding, eyes watery, lips sealed.
He didn’t even say anything. No drama. No pity. Just… care. Pure, simple care.
After a while, he gently let go of my feet, wiped his hands, and lay back on the bed.
“Lights off?” he asked softly.
I hummed, switching the lamp off.
And then… we lay down.
I on my side.
He on his.
But the silence between us? It wasn’t empty.
It was warm. Like a blanket tucked over two beating hearts who were finally starting to understand each other.
My hand slowly travelled to my lips, pressing against them gently as a wide smile spread across my face. I giggled softly, covering my mouth like a schoolgirl hiding her crush.
I don’t even know why I was smiling so much.
Maybe because it was the first time in my life someone did something for me… without being asked. Without expecting anything back.
Maybe because I was finally allowing myself to feel something I shouldn’t.
Maybe because my heart was no longer listening to the rules my brain made.
I turned to my side, my back now to him.
Still smiling. Still holding my mouth. Still giggling like a fool.
My eyes closed slowly, heart whispering one thing again and again…
"He cares. For me."
The faint light of morning peeked through the curtains, casting soft streaks of gold across the room. My eyes fluttered open, still heavy from the night’s rest.
I tried to shift slightly, to stretch maybe…
But I stopped.
Because the moment I turned my head to the side—
I froze.
There she was.
Ritvika.
Flushed against my chest.
Her breath slow… warm… ghosting gently against my skin.
Her one arm was lazily flung across my torso, like it belonged there.
Her fingers resting right above my heart.
And her head? Tucked beneath my chin, placed right over my chest—as if that spot was made just for her.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
What the hell?
How did she even end up here?
Wait.
Every night, Tara sleeps between us.
She rolls, kicks, and occasionally snores like a kitten—but she makes sure there's a thick wall of toddler between us.
But last night…
Tara slept with Aarush.
That meant…
I closed my eyes again for a second, letting out a tiny sigh.
So that’s how this happened.
And I should probably move.
Untangle myself.
Remind myself that this is not… normal.
But I didn’t.
Instead…
I stared at her.
Strands of her hair were scattered over her cheek. A few tickling my throat, a few fluttering with each breath she took. I carefully lifted my hand—slow, hesitant—and tucked them back behind her ear.
She stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake up.
Her face…
God.
She looked so peaceful.
Like nothing could ever break her.
And yet… I knew how fragile she really was.
How much pain she carried behind those closed eyes.
I don’t know what was wrong with me.
Maybe it was the softness of this moment.
Maybe it was the way her body curled so naturally against mine.
Maybe it was how right it felt.
Too right.
I leaned forward slowly—so slow it almost didn’t feel real—
And pressed the softest, barely-there kiss on her forehead.
Like a feather.
Like a secret.
Like… a promise I never made, but almost wanted to.
I didn’t move after that.
Just pulled her slightly closer.
Closed my eyes.
And let sleep take me again.
Because in this moment…
I wasn’t Vidyut Rajvansh, the cruel, ruthless man the world feared.
I was just a man.
Holding the woman he didn’t mean to fall for.
The first thing I felt was warmth. Not the kind from a blanket, but something else—solid, steady, familiar.
My eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking against the soft morning light that peeked through the curtains. I tried to stretch, to move… and that’s when I froze.
My face was pressed… against a chest.
A firm chest.
My heart skipped a beat.
My breath hitched.
I slowly tilted my face upward—only to find myself sprawled against Vidyut. One arm of mine was wrapped around his torso. My head had claimed the space just beneath his chin like it was some sacred pillow. And worst of all—I was the one who moved here.
He hadn’t.
He hadn’t shifted an inch.
"Oh God…"
My cheeks burned—scarlet red.
No—this was beyond embarrassment. This was humiliation curled in a blanket of softness.
I quickly unwrapped my hand from around him and slid out of the bed carefully, almost tripping over the edge in my hurry. I didn’t dare look back. My face was on fire. My hands clutched my cheeks like I could hide the heat bubbling up.
Why? Why did I do that in sleep?
What will he think?
He must have noticed!
Did he move? No! He was still in the same place when I woke up.
Which means…
Oh no…
I rushed into the bathroom like I was being chased and closed the door, resting my back against it.
"Calm down… Calm down, Ritvika…" I whispered to myself, trying to breathe.
But no amount of pep talk could remove the blush from my cheeks.
I dressed up quickly—a soft yellow saree with delicate embroidery. My hair was damp as I towel-dried it, eyes glancing towards the door nervously.
Before stepping out, I looked at myself in the mirror, and without thinking, a tiny smile escaped my lips.
That same smile lingered when I walked back to the room.
Vidyut was still asleep, deep and still. His expression looked softer, calmer… almost boyish.
Taking a silent breath, I stepped closer. And just like I had done yesterday—I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
So soft that it wouldn’t even leave a trace.
Then I ran out, my saree fluttering slightly behind me like I had committed a crime.
I entered the living room, my heart still racing.
"Good morning maa, good morning chachi," I said quickly, placing the tea tray on the table.
"Good morning, beta," they both smiled.
I began pouring tea with shaky hands, cheeks still warm when Aarush entered with a very sleepy Tara in his arms.
"Lijiye, sambhaliye apni choti si toofan mail," he said, handing her to me.
(Here, take care of your little storm mail)
"Thank you, Aarush," I said, smiling, holding my baby against me.
I walked back into the room with Tara still yawning in my arms.
Vidyut was… still asleep.
My brows pulled together slightly.
That was strange.
He never slept this late.
I stood still for a second, just watching him. He was breathing evenly, completely peaceful… but so still.
Was he okay?
Maybe he was just tired. Yesterday had been… a lot.
I shook the thoughts away and decided not to wake him.
"Come baby, let’s go take a bath," I whispered to Tara.
Cradling her gently, I walked out of the room, letting Vidyut sleep a little longer—still carrying the smile from that tiny kiss.
Ritvika was about to step out of the living room when Manisha called out,
"Beta, Vidyut ko bula lo nashta karne ke liye."
("Dear, please call Vidyut for breakfast.")
She nodded softly, "Ji maa," and turned toward their room, her pace calm, her heart unaware of the storm about to hit.
Pushing the door open, she was met with unusual stillness. The curtain filtered the sunlight softly into the room. Vidyut was still on the bed, lying on one side, unmoving.
Ritvika frowned slightly.
"Vidyut?" she called gently.
No response.
She walked closer, her heart skipping a beat.
"Vidyut... uthiye, breakfast ka time ho gaya hai."
("Vidyut... wake up, it's breakfast time.")
Still no reaction.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out and shook his shoulder.
"Vidyut? Kya hua?"
("Vidyut? What's wrong?")
But the moment her palm grazed his cheek—her eyes widened.
Burning.
His skin was scorching hot. Alarm flooded her senses.
"Oh my God..." she whispered, panicked, as she checked his forehead next. It was worse. His body was burning with fever.
"Vidyut!" she called louder, voice trembling. "Please uthna... kya ho gaya hai aapko?"
("Please wake up... what's happened to you?")
Her hands cradled his face, panic rising. His brows furrowed in discomfort but still no real reaction.
"Aankhein kholiye Vidyut... please aankhein kholo..."
("Open your eyes Vidyut... please open your eyes...")
She felt like her heart was breaking. Slowly, finally, his eyes fluttered open, heavy and clouded with fever.
"Ritvika..." his voice rasped, barely audible, eyes unfocused.
"Aapko bukhaar hai... itna zyada..."
("You have a fever... such a high one...")
She rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a tray of warm poha, and water, placing it on the nightstand. Then she sat beside him, supporting his shoulders.
"Khayiye thoda sa. Main medicine tabhi de sakti hoon jab aap kuch kha lenge."
("Please eat something. I can only give you the medicine once you eat something.")
Vidyut groaned, turning his head,
"Mujhe bhook nahi hai..."
("I'm not hungry...")
"Vidyut please..." she whispered, her eyes glistening.
When he didn’t respond, she picked a spoonful of poha, brought it to his mouth, and looked at him with soft pleading eyes.
"Please... sirf ek bite."
("Please... just one bite.")
Vidyut stared at her for a second—those eyes, that trembling voice—it all melted his resistance. With a sigh, he opened his mouth, accepting the bite.
She gently fed him, her fingers brushing lightly against his lips now and then, and he didn’t pull back. Something about this moment felt more intimate than any kiss. A kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed.
Half the plate went down just like that—from her hand, with her eyes on him.
When she finally stopped, she quietly placed the tray back, fetched the medicine and water.
"Yeh lijiye..." she said, gently handing him the pills and water.
("Take these...")
He obeyed, swallowing slowly, exhaustion evident in his every movement.
"Ab so jaiye..." she whispered, caressing his forehead.
("Now go to sleep...")
He tried, but a minute later, she noticed him shifting uncomfortably, his hands pressing against his forehead.
"Kya hua?" she asked, her voice soft yet worried.
("What happened?")
"headache.." he muttered.
Without thinking, Ritvika slid on the bed, sitting upright, and slowly, nervously, she pulled his head onto her lap.
"Aap relax kijiye..." she whispered.
("Just relax...")
Her fingers moved to his temples, massaging gently, filled with love, fear, and an unknown tenderness. Her strokes were slow, rhythmic—trying to ease his pain.
Just then, a soft patter of feet was heard.
Tara, in her panda onesie, toddled in, eyes curious. She stood near the bed, thumb in her mouth, watching silently.
Then she smiled brightly, "Mummaa"
Without waiting, she climbed up the bed, knelt beside her parents, and placed her tiny hands on Vidyut’s forehead, mimicking Ritvika.
Ritvika smiled warmly, eyes brimming.
Vidyut opened his eyes at the soft pressure. He saw his wife gently massaging his forehead and his daughter copying her in the most adorable way. A smile tugged at his lips despite the fever.
"I’ll be fine... as long as these two stay by my side..."he thought silently,heart full.
Ritvika looked down at him with concern, brushing back a few strands from his forehead.
"Sleep a bit more... let the medicine work..."
He nodded faintly, closed his eyes again—the warmth of his family lulling him into peaceful rest.
It was late afternoon.
Vidyut's fever had slowly subsided.
Tara giggled happily, her tiny hands tangled in her father’s shirt as she bounced on the bed. Vidyut, leaning against the headboard with pillows tucked behind him, smiled lazily, his eyes watching his little girl with a tenderness that softened even his tired face.
"Dadda... dekhooo! Cat!" Tara shrieked as she showed him her stuffed toy.
"Haan meri princess ki cat... bilkul uski tarah cute," Vidyut said, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.
(Yes, my princess's cat... just as cute as her.)
A soft chuckle left his lips as he tickled Tara’s belly, earning a burst of uncontrollable laughter from the toddler.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen...
Ritvika stood near the counter, her fingers trembling slightly as she chopped some coriander. Her heart was beating just a little faster today.
It wasn’t just the usual cooking. It wasn’t just about serving lunch.
It was the arrival of Geetanjali Shekhawat—Vidyut’s bua.
And the stories Parul had told her... strict, traditional, sharp-tongued, and deeply rooted in customs. Her spine straightened remembering one particular thing Parul had warned her:
"Woh sirf bahu nahi, sabhyata dekhti hai."
(She doesn't just look for a daughter-in-law... she looks for tradition.)
Ritvika adjusted her heavy saree, the fabric slightly itching her skin. She was already sweating—maybe from the kitchen heat, or maybe from nerves. Manisha had made her wear a proper Rajvansh daughter-in-law attire—sindoor, bangles, mangalsutra, and pallu neatly on her head.
Just then—
"Ting-Tong!" The doorbell rang.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded.
She wiped her palms quickly on her saree, peeking from the kitchen door. And there she was—
Geetanjali Shekhawat.
Dressed in a beige crisp saree, her back straight, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes sharp as blades—she walked inside the house like it still belonged to her.
Parul and Manisha welcomed her with folded hands.
"Namaste didi, aayiye, baithiye."
(Namaste di, please come, sit.)
Geetanjali nodded slightly, her eyes scanning the house, like a general inspecting a battlefield.
From the kitchen, Ritvika saw her and felt her throat go dry.
"Ritvika, paani lana beta!" Manisha called out.
(Ritvika, bring water dear)
“Jii maa…” Ritvika whispered and nervously picked up the tray of water.
With careful steps, pallu neatly covering her head, she walked towards the living room, heart beating louder with every step. She held the tray steadily, trying not to tremble.
As she stood in front of Geetanjali, she bent down to touch her feet.
"Namaste buaji," she said softly.
(Greetings, Bua ji.)
Geetanjali didn’t speak.
Her gaze travelled from Ritvika’s covered head to her hands holding the tray. Her eyes lingered longer than necessary—searching, judging.
She finally took the glass, sipped the water, but her eyes never left Ritvika.
It made Ritvika’s skin crawl.
She quickly turned to go and prepare tea and snacks. She kept the tea on the stove and opened the top cabinet to bring down the snack jars. Her back was to the door, lost in her task.
Just then, a cold voice said—
"Main glass rakh doon kitchen mein?"
(Shall I keep the glass in the kitchen?)
"Didi, rehne dijiye, Ritvika rakh degi..." Manisha tried to stop her.
(Di, let it be, Ritwika will keep it...)
But Geetanjali was already walking.
Ritvika was on her toes reaching up to take out a jar, completely oblivious to the silent shadow behind her.
Geetanjali glanced around once. Then—
She quietly opened the nearby cabinet, took out the salt box, and added three heaped spoons of salt into the boiling tea.
A calm expression returned to her face. She closed the lid, stirred the tea slightly with the spoon, and carefully placed everything back the way it was.
By the time Ritvika turned back around—Geetanjali had already kept the glass in the sink and walked away like nothing happened.
Ritvika smiled faintly.
“Bua ji simple hai...”
(Bua ji seems so simple...)
She had no idea what just happened.
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NEXT Chapter Spoiler
"Big man .....dadaaaa yeh ishe naayi naayi kla do"
(Give him a bath)
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1.3k votes and 300 Comments and I will update next chapter on Wednesday!!!