Chapter 37
By the next day, wedding preparations had turned into organised madness.
Opinions rose from every corner. Voices overlapped. Instructions collided. The Haveli throbbed with movement.
Meera moved through it on instinct. Food appeared, she ate. A glass reached her, she drank. Someone called her name, she smiled.
Inside, anxiety kept climbing.
It began quietly. By lunch it sharpened. She looked across the table at her parents and felt it rise higher. She could not walk toward the sacred fire with silence standing between her and Abhinav.
The weight pressed harder when her phone gallery opened by mistake.
Those mornings filled the screen. Abhinav leaned against the wall. Her dupatta caught around his wrist. Sunlight brushed his face while he looked at her as if life had finally begun to make sense.
By evening, the pressure turned unbearable.
Three days. Three days until marriage, until the new beginning. And still the underground chamber sat inside her ribs.
She needed to speak to him. For that, she needed help.
Naina arrived around eight carrying a small silver plate covered with red cloth. She swept into the living room, hugged Meera in passing, and dropped onto the sofa beside Gauri.
“Haldi dhaga,” she announced, uncovering the plate. “Blessed at Kuldevi temple this evening. Bhabhi has to wear it before tomorrow’s ceremony.”
A delicate yellow thread rested among marigold petals and grains of rice.
Gauri accepted the plate carefully.
“Maa told me to hand this directly to you,” Naina continued. “Apparently nobody in this family can be trusted with sacred objects after one aunty misplaced the coconuts twice.”
Devendra made a sound that strongly resembled laughter.
Meera waited until Naina finished relaying Sarita’s instructions. Then she crossed the room, caught Naina’s wrist, and pulled. “Come with me.”
Naina blinked. “Bhabhi?”
“Inside.”
“What happened?”
“Come.”
She pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door.
Naina turned to her. “Everything alright?”
Meera sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, eyes helpless. “I need your help.”
“Done.”
“You do not even know what it is.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Naina folded her arms. “Who do I threaten?”
Despite herself, Meera laughed. “I need to meet your brother.”
Naina’s eyes widened.
“Now,” Meera continued. “Without anyone knowing.”
Delight spread across Naina’s face at terrifying speed. She looked spiritually fulfilled.
“Bhabhi.”
“Naina…”
“You came to me.” Naina pressed a hand dramatically to her own heart. “To arrange a secret meeting with my brother three days before your wedding.”
“Yes.”
“This is the greatest honour of my life.”
“You are taking this too seriously.”
“I am taking this with the respect it deserves.” Naina had already begun pacing. “Right. Cover story first. Maa will not notice. She is busy terrorising the caterers. If anybody stops us, I will stare at them with mild Anand disappointment until they apologise for existing.”
Meera laughed again.
Naina stopped pacing and looked at her properly. The teasing faded a little. “Bhabhi.”
“Yes?”
“I am genuinely happy you came to me.”
Meera’s smile softened.
Naina exhaled dramatically. “Unfortunately, this entire situation has also ruined my future.”
“What.”
“I am going to die alone.”
Meera blinked.
Naina stared into the distance with the tragic expression of a woman abandoned by destiny.
“My brother has created impossible standards. Impossible.” She pointed accusingly toward the ceiling as if Abhinav sat there ruining men for her. “I cannot settle for anything less now. How do I meet ordinary men after watching this man challenge divine forces for you?”
“Naina…”
“I accept my fate.” Her voice turned grave. “I will become wealthy and mysterious. I will live alone in silk kaftans.”
“You hate being alone.”
“I will adapt.”
“You also hate kaftans.”
“That part is negotiable.”
Meera pressed her lips together, fighting another laugh.
Naina continued staring into distance. “One day people will whisper about me. They will point toward the eastern wing and murmur… there lives Naina Anand. Unmarried. Dramatic. Emotionally damaged by her brother.”
“Naina.”
No response.
“Naina.”
Silence from her side, full commitment to tragedy.
Meera leaned forward and tapped her forehead.
Naina blinked and snapped back. “Right. Mission.”
She grabbed Meera’s hand and pulled her up. “No fear, Bhabhi. You are with a professional.”
Her arm looped through Meera’s as she marched out. They crossed the living room at a dangerous speed. Gauri looked up from a conversation with two cousins just in time to see them pass.
“Aunty,” Naina called out brightly without stopping, “I am taking Bhabhi for fresh air.”
Gauri opened her mouth.
They had already disappeared.
In the corridor, Meera took the lead.
The Haveli had reached its calmest hour. Most relatives gathered for dinner. Staff moved toward the dining halls.
Naina stayed close, ready to intervene if needed.
“You know,” she whispered, “if Bhai finds out I helped you, he is going to double my monthly allowance.”
A soft giggle slipped from Meera.
“Bhabhi, at this rate, you can make me a millionaire. Just keep needing my help every day.”
Meera shook her head despite herself.
They reached Abhinav’s office. Naina placed a hand against the door and turned to her.
“Twenty minutes,” she declared. “After that I return. Whatever happens inside, for the protection of my innocence, I want no details.”
“Naina…”
“Twenty minutes, Bhabhi.”
Naina pushed her gently into the office and shut the door.
Meera paused at the doorway, drawing in a breath to gather herself.
Across the room, Abhinav looked up from his desk. The pen slipped from his fingers, tapping against the papers. For a second, neither moved.
Then she walked to him. “I needed to talk to you.”
He rose at once and came around the desk. He did not ask questions. Did not demand explanations. He only stopped in front of her and waited.
That almost undid her.
She had rehearsed everything. Calm words. Careful sentences. None of it survived his presence.
“It was fear.”
His expression did not shift.
“What I did that day. Not coming to you. Walking away instead of asking.” Her fingers twisted together. “It was fear.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I know.”
She blinked. “You know?”
He stepped closer. His hand came up to her face, thumb resting against her cheek.
“I thought about it after,” he murmured. “You were afraid of the answer. Afraid that if you came to me and asked about Anand Mahal, I would look at you and tell you yes.”
Her breath caught.
“That was the fear.”
“Hukum…”
“And it came from distrust.” No anger in his voice. Only honesty. “I understood that too. You heard enough to doubt me.”
Pain flashed across her face. “No…”
“Yes.” His thumb moved once. “Listen to me.”
She fell silent.
“My words that day, about you not trusting me, were not wrong, Meera.” His jaw worked once. “I had not earned your trust on this.”
Her eyes widened.
“And I am sorry for my part in it.”
The apology landed deep.
“I came into your home. Walked beside you in these corridors. Asked you to marry me. Took you into the sky. Claimed you.” He exhaled. “Yet I never told you that Anand Mahal was safe.”
Her throat burned.
“I thought loving you would be enough. That asking you to become my wife would answer every fear.”
A hint of self-mockery touched his mouth.
“I was an idiot.”
Her fingers tightened.
“Love is not telepathy, Meera.” His eyes stayed on hers. “You needed words. You needed me to tell you no one would take your home.”
His palm settled fully against her cheek. “I should have told you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“And because I stayed silent, you built the rest from fragments. You ran with the only truth you had.”
She shook her head, tears spilling. “Hukum…”
“I am not finished.”
The softness in his tone sharpened just enough.
His other hand rose. Now both palms framed her face completely.
“I am telling you now.” Each word came firm, intense. “And you will hear me properly.”
Her breathing turned uneven.
“I am not selling Anand Mahal.”
The words entered her whole body at once.
“I was never going to sell it. Not after the wedding. Not in ten years. Not ever.”
Her lips parted.
“This is your home.” His forehead rested against hers. “Mine too now. Where our family will live. Where our children will grow up. Where you will terrorise the staff while I enjoy it.”
A broken laugh escaped her.
“And if anyone offers to buy it,” he murmured, “I will laugh in their face.”
Tears ran freely.
“Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Properly.”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed for a second. He kissed her forehead and stayed there.
Her hands rose, wrapping around his wrists.
He held her as she cried, his forehead against hers, his breath warm between them.
When he pulled back, he tilted her chin up. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and met his. And what she saw stole her breath.
Love.
Furious in its devotion.
Terrifying in its depth.
Entirely hers.
“Was there anything else you came to say?” His voice softened.
A small laugh slipped out through tears. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Her grip tightened on his wrists. “I love you.”
He froze.
“I should have told you in the balloon.” Her voice trembled. “I should have told you the first time you held my hand.”
Her eyes dipped, then rose again.
“I think I loved you before I even understood what it was.”
His eyes darkened.
“And tonight… I am not speaking from guilt or fear.” Her voice thickened. “I am saying it because it is true.”
His hand tightened against her jaw. “Meera.”
“Yes?”
“Say that again.”
Her lips trembled. “I love you.”
He kissed her.
Hard.
His arm locked around her waist, pulling her close enough to steal breath.
Her fingers twisted into his shirt.
He kissed her with the intensity of a man who had realised that loving her had become stitched into every part of him, so deeply that even the thought of losing her felt unbearable.
And she kissed him back with everything she had. With relief. With guilt. With love she should have confessed days ago.
When he pulled away, her forehead dropped against his chest. Their breaths came uneven.
“Meera.”
“Hm?”
“Look at me.”
She tried. Her eyes stopped at his collar.
He laughed softly. “Meera Chauhan.”
“Hm.”
“This is shy now?”
“Hukum.”
The word slipped out, soft, dangerous. She bit her lip at once.
His eyes dropped there. The air around them thickened.
“Meera.” His voice was low, rough.
“Hm?” Wide eyes. Innocent expression. Lip still trapped between her teeth.
His hand moved to her waist. The other braced against the desk. Her back met polished wood before she realized what happened.
She hadn’t even known when she had turned.
His mouth hovered near her temple. Not touching. Not yet. “You know what that word does to me.”
“What word, Hukum?”
A breath left him against her ear. Barely controlled. “You are doing this on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Hukum.”
His mouth traced along her jaw, slow, close enough to make her unsteady before an actual kiss arrived.
Her palms pressed against his chest just to stay upright.
“Meera.”
“Yes, Hukum?”
His mouth lowered further. To the spot where her pulse had already gone wild. The touch of his teeth there drew a soft sound from her.
“Say my name,” he murmured into her skin.
She froze.
“Say my name, Meera.”
“Hukum…”
“No.” His hand tightened at her back, pulling her closer. “My name.”
Her composure slipped.
“I cannot…”
“Try.”
His mouth moved across her throat with unbearable patience. “Try, Meera.”
“Abhi…”
The rest caught. Her eyes shut.
“Abhinav.”
Tiny.
Almost swallowed by the warmth of his neck where her face had ended up hiding.
He stopped.
His hand pressed firm against her back as he lifted his head. His eyes darkened.
She kept her eyes closed.
“Meera.”
“I cannot do that again.”
“You just did.”
“I cannot.” Her cheeks burned. “Please do not ask me to.”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “Why?”
She drew in a shaking breath and opened her eyes.
“I have never heard Maa Sa call Babuji by his name.” Her voice was soft. “Not once. None of the women here use their husband’s names.”
He listened.
“They believe it shortens his life. Weakens his health. Damages his fortune.” Her eyes filled again. “It may sound old but I grew up with it. I cannot risk anything happening to you. I only spoke your name because you asked.”
Her lashes lowered.
“Tomorrow morning I am apologising to Maa for it.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. Warm, fond. “Meera.”
“Don't laugh.”
“You believe saying my name will shorten my life.”
“I am serious.”
“I know.” His thumb moved against her cheek again. “That is why this is cute.”
Her eyes widened. “Do not call it cute.”
“It is.”
“I am being serious.”
“And I am completely in love with the woman planning an apology from a goddess because she spoke my name once.”
She shut her eyes in embarrassment.
He looked devastatingly pleased with himself. “Alright.”
Her eyes opened. “Alright what?”
“You never have to use my name again.” His forehead brushed hers. “I am not forcing you to go against what you believe.”
Relief rushed through her.
“But I have one condition.”
She blinked.
“No more Hukum.”
Now she stared.
“Nowhere,” he continued. “Privately. Publicly. In front of staff. In front of my mother. Find another word, Meera. The way you say Hukum does something I can only explain with my hands and mouth.”
Heat rose in her body. “What should I call you?”
“I don’t know. That problem belongs to you.”
She studied him for a second. “Ji?”
“What about ji?”
“I will call you ji.”
His eyes darkened. “Ji is acceptable.”
A tiny smile appeared on her face. “Yes, ji.”
He kissed her forehead. “How did you even get here tonight?”
The question startled a laugh out of her. “I asked Naina for help.”
His brows rose. “My sister helped you sneak into my office?”
“She was very enthusiastic.”
Understanding crossed his face. “Meera.” His voice carried warning now. “Be careful with Naina.”
She blinked.
“She collects favours,” he added. “And she demands repayment during the worst possible time.”
Another laugh escaped her. She leaned forward, brushing her nose against his.
He forgot the rest of his warning.
For the first time since panic had taken hold, she looked light again. Happy.
“Naina is my sister too now,” she whispered. “I will always be there for her. Favour or no favour.”
His expression softened into something helpless. “You have all become very confident around me.”
“Maybe because you love us too much to win arguments.”
“That is absolutely not true.”
“It is completely true, ji.”
He stared at her.
Then exhaled and kissed her again, because arguing had apparently become impossible.