Chapter 25 Where the Thread Began
A single thread is fragile; a woven cord endures.
- Ashwin Adani
Adhrita, Vritant, Saanvi, and Aryan stood at the grand wooden doors of the Adani house. Neeta Adani greeted them first, her smile warm and motherly, with Mahir Adani and Ashwin Adani close behind.
Adhrita hugged her chachi tightly before stepping in. The scent, the walls, the faint echoes of laughter-it was her home. Memories of her younger days rushed back all at once, and for a moment, she forgot the weight she had carried from Delhi.
Aryan leaned close to Vritant, his lips quirking into a grin.
"Bhai, you're too smart, haan. Mera sasural bhi tumne apna ghar bana liya. Hum dono bhaiyon ne Adani ki dono betiya..."
His voice trailed off into a mischievous chuckle.
Aryan choked on his laugh while Saanvi gave him the look. Adhrita turned her head briefly, catching the tail of their exchange, and for a fleeting second, she saw the rare spark of mischief in Vritant's eyes.
Her heart clenched. He could joke, he could hide, but the report she had found still burned in her mind.
Mahir stepped forward with a broad smile.
"Aiye, damad ji," he said warmly, greeting Aryan first and then Vritant.
Aryan embraced him with effortless charm, the kind of warmth that came as naturally to him as slipping into character. Vritant's hug followed-brief, precise, as though he were checking off a box in some invisible ledger.
"Bas ghar hi samajhiye," Mahir said, ushering them inside.
As they walked in, Aryan leaned slightly towards Vritant, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
His words were low, almost playful-but his eyes were sharp, calculating, like a man who never really left the stage.
"Bhai, soch ke dekho. Adani ki dono betiyan, aur hum dono-ghar ke andar aur sasural ke andar. Perfect casting, no?"
Vritant arched a brow, his expression unreadable. "And every perfect cast hides a flawed script. Don't forget that."
Aryan's smile deepened, as if he relished the tension. "Scripts are my department. You just keep playing the mystery hero."
Their exchange lasted barely a breath, masked by the noise of greetings around them, but it was enough to spark a silent grin between the brothers-a shared acknowledgment of the games both on stage and off it.
Just then, Rawat stepped in with Karma, the restless dog tugging against the lace in his hand. "Sir," he said, offering the leash to Vritant.
Vritant's gaze flicked across the room. Saanvi and Adhrita were already seated on the sofa with Neeta chachi. A smirk touched his lips.
He loosened his grip on the lace-deliberately careless. The second the leash slipped, Karma bolted as though reading his master's mind.
Straight to Adhrita.
With a joyful bark, Karma leapt onto her lap. Adhrita caught her breath, hands instinctively going around the dog. Beside her, Saanvi shrieked, half in shock, half in annoyance, scooting to the edge of the sofa.
Vritant leaned back slightly, watching the scene unfold with the satisfaction of a man who didn't need words to make his point.
"Adhrita!" Saanvi's scream cut through the room. "You brought this bitch here?"
Karma turned his head sharply, gave a sharp bark in Saanvi's direction, and she yelped, scrambling to her feet.
"How come this devil is here?" she shrieked again, pointing accusingly at Adhrita as if she had smuggled the dog in.
Before anyone could intervene, Karma leapt down from Adhrita's lap and bounded toward Saanvi, barking loud enough to shake the walls. Saanvi let out another scream and bolted across the room, half-running, half-tripping in her heels, with Karma gleefully on his heels.
The whole living room dissolved into chaos-Neeta chachi trying to calm the dog, Ashwin doubled over in laughter, Aryan struggling to hide his grin.
And in the middle of it all, Vritant came inside casually, his smirk sharper than ever. He hadn't spoken a word, but the scene played exactly as he had intended.
"Adhrita, save me!" Saanvi shrieked, darting around the coffee table as Karma barked and bounded after her.
Adhrita burst into laughter despite herself and ran behind Karma, trying to catch his collar.
"Karma, stop! Come here!" she pleaded, but Karma only barked louder, tongue lolling, tail wagging, thoroughly enjoying the chase.
Saanvi shrieked again, nearly colliding with Aryan, who had to grab her by the arm to steady her. "This is not funny!" she yelled, glaring at everyone-though the sight of Ashwin and Mahir doubled over with laughter did nothing to help her case.
"Karma!" Adhrita tried again, almost breathless now, but the dog ignored her completely.
It was only when Vritant finally called, voice low and firm, "Karma," that the dog froze mid-step. He turned instantly and padded back to his master, tail still wagging but obedience absolute.
The room quieted, though laughter lingered in the air. Adhrita looked at Vritant, half-annoyed, half-amused. He met her gaze with that infuriating smirk, as if to say I told you so.
Saanvi, still panting, pointed accusingly at the dog. "This devil should not be allowed in this house!"
Karma barked once, sharp, as though mocking her-and the room erupted again.
Saanvi, still catching her breath, threw her hands up. "Dog and owner both are the same-stubborn, arrogant, and impossible!"
The room went quiet for a beat, and then Ashwin burst out laughing. "Finally, someone dared to say it."
Adhrita bit her lip, torn between scolding Saanvi and laughing herself. She glanced at Vritant, bracing for his reaction.
But Vritant didn't flinch. His smirk only deepened as he stroked Karma's head, the dog sitting loyally by his side.
"You're right, Saanvi," he said, his tone silk and sarcasm in equal measure. "Dog and owner are the same. Loyal to one, dangerous to the rest."
Saanvi froze, eyes widening a little, as if she wasn't sure whether he was joking or warning.
Aryan quickly jumped in, grinning. "Arre, bhai, thoda toh reham karo. Sasural hai yeh, battlefield nahin."
The tension cracked, laughter rippled again, and Adhrita exhaled slowly, though her heart was still racing. Only she caught the brief glint in Vritant's eyes-the one that made her wonder whether his words were just banter... or something more.
Finally, the chaos simmered down. Saanvi sulked into the corner of the sofa, Aryan kept smirking at her misfortune, and Neeta chachi tried to restore order with tea.
Vritant sat down beside Adhrita, pulling Karma into his lap as if nothing had happened. Karma settled instantly, tongue hanging happily.
He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
"Your father is CM, can't he launch a 'Damad ko daru pilao yojna'?"
Adhrita's head snapped toward him, eyes wide, and she almost choked on the laugh she tried to suppress. "You're impossible."
His smirk deepened, eyes glinting. "Correction-unbeatable."
She shook her head, hiding her smile, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her. For a man who carried shadows darker than she could imagine, he had a knack for making her heart stumble with one sarcastic line.
??? V ? A ???
"Kahaan se dhoondha hai tune yeh Vritant ke bacche ko?" Saanvi huffed, climbing onto the kitchen slab like a sulking teenager.
Adhrita was busy eating halwa straight from the bowl their chachi had just made. She licked the spoon and looked up innocently.
"Aap ki shaadi mein?" she deadpanned.
Saanvi's jaw dropped. "Mumma!" she yelled dramatically, "don't give her halwa, she is not our Adhrita anymore. She's Vritant's wife-see her sarcasm?!"
Neeta chachi chuckled, balancing the tray of halwa as she started walking out of the kitchen. "We have people for that, Mom!" Saanvi complained again, pouting.
"Mere damad ghar aaye hain, Saanvi. Behave," Neeta said with mock sternness before shooting her a glare and leaving with the tray.
Saanvi turned back, eyes wide. "Really?" she asked Adhrita in disbelief.
Adhrita shrugged, spooning another bite of halwa into her mouth. "Let her be, Saanvi. They're more important than us now. Mother-in-law role, you know."
Saanvi narrowed her eyes, chewing hard on her words. "What about you, Mrs. Vardhan?"
Adhrita froze for a second at the name, then looked up slowly, meeting her sister's gaze.
"your mother-in-law?" she repeated softly, lips curling into a smirk.
Adhrita twirled the spoon lazily in the empty bowl, as if weighing her answer. Then she looked her sister dead in the eye, smirk still tugging at her lips.
"She's powerful, unpredictable, and knows exactly how to get under your skin."
Saanvi blinked, caught off guard. "So basically... another Vritant in a saree?"
Adhrita laughed-an unguarded, genuine laugh that filled the kitchen. "Exactly."
For a moment, the two sisters dissolved into giggles, the heaviness of new roles and responsibilities melting away in their shared sarcasm.
The laughter in the kitchen faded, and for a moment it was just the two of them-sisters who had shared secrets since childhood.
Saanvi set the empty bowl aside, her expression softening. "Adhrita..."
Adhrita looked up, surprised at the change in her tone.
"I know I joke a lot," Saanvi began, her voice quieter now, "but... are you really okay with him? With Vritant?"
Adhrita blinked, the question sinking deep.
"You've always been the sensible one," Saanvi continued, frowning a little. "And he's... well, he's not easy. He's dangerous sometimes, Adhrita. The way he looks at people, the way he talks-it feels like he's always hiding something."
Adhrita stayed silent for a beat, her fingers tracing the rim of the bowl. Then she smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed a storm underneath.
"He is not easy," she admitted. "But he's mine now. And maybe that's enough."
She glanced up at Saanvi, then quickly corrected herself, her tone flat, almost rehearsed.
"I mean... he's my husband now. So that's enough."
The silence that followed was heavier than either of them wanted to acknowledge. Saanvi looked at her sister, trying to find some trace of conviction in her voice-but all she found was resignation.
??? V ? A ???
Adhrita was about to enter her room when she heard her father's voice.
"Adhrit, I want to talk to you," he said.
She didn't reply, just turned and followed him to his room. He sat down on the sofa, his face unusually soft.
"Thank you, beta, for coming. I thought... after what happened, you would never come here."
"After what, Papa?" Her voice was low, controlled. "After you threatening to strip me of my identity?"
Her father sighed. "Look, Adhrita. If you still want to paint me as the villain, you can. But I did what I thought was best."
"Best for whom, Papa?" she shot back. "You always thought you knew best for me.
Mumma died-and you decided it was best for me to move to the US.
Years later, you decided it was best to drag me back to India.
And then you thought marrying me into the Vardhan family would be the best. But best for whom, Papa? "
"Adu beta..." his voice cracked, "I'm not trying to justify myself. Mere liye na sahi... apni maa ke liye soch lo. Tum toh uski ladli thi."
Her eyes burned. "Main toh Mumma se zyada aapki ladli thi, Papa. Mumma hamesha daantti thi-'isko itna pyaar mat karo, bigad jayegi.' But I didn't, Papa. I didn't get spoiled. Because one day... you just stopped loving me."
Her voice broke, but she pressed on.
"I was your Adu, right? Then how did I become... nothing?"
She drew in a shuddering breath. "You know, Papa... I'm so intelligent I can answer any question on any subject. Even in surgery, no one can go ahead of me. But when he asked me one question-What do you want, Adhrita?-I didn't have an answer. Because no one ever asked me before."
Her father looked down, silent.
"At first, you gave me everything without asking.
And when you stopped... I spent years giving you everything you wanted instead.
I didn't even realize I had failed the most important question of my life.
" She wiped a tear that had slipped out.
"But I did realize one thing-that maybe the life I want...
is the one where these hands save people. "
She paused, her voice trembling but steadying with each word.
"You remember my dream, Papa? To be a doctor?
That dream wasn't even mine-it was yours.
You were sick, and I checked you with my toy stethoscope.
You laughed and said, Meri Adu ek din asli doctor banegi aur mujhe thik karegi.
I believed you. I thought-Mumma's gone, so at least I'll fulfill your dream. I didn't have one of my own."
Her lips trembled as her voice dropped.
"For ten years, I studied-just to become something. And for four more, I fought-just to prove that I really am a doctor. But for me? For myself? Nothing, Papa."
For a long time, silence stretched between them. Her father sat with his hands clasped, staring at the floor as if her words had stripped him bare.
Finally, he exhaled. "Adu..." His voice was rough. "You think I stopped loving you? Beta, I only knew how to love you by protecting you. By controlling everything around you so nothing could hurt you."
Adhrita's eyes narrowed, but he pressed on.
"I lost your mother. Do you know what that did to me? Suddenly, it was just you. And I-" he broke off, shaking his head. "I didn't trust the world with you. I didn't even trust you with yourself. So I kept deciding for you. Sending you away, pulling you back, tying your future to the Vardhans..."
He looked at her now, eyes glistening despite his effort to stay firm.
"Maybe it wasn't best for you, Adhri. Maybe it was best for me. Because it was the only way I knew to keep you safe."
His words hung heavy, somewhere between confession and excuse.
Adhrita swallowed hard, her anger faltering for just a breath.
"Safe?" Adhrita's voice cracked, but her eyes blazed.
"Papa, I kept your dream safe for years.
In a foreign country, surrounded by strangers, you didn't even give me time to mourn my mother.
You threw me away, and still, I thought-at least my father's dream should never break.
I buried everything inside me and spent days, nights, years, just to become a successful surgeon.
I forgot what festivals feel like, what social life is, what it means to dance, Papa. "
Her throat tightened, but the words wouldn't stop.
"Yesterday, I had to tell him-I don't know how to dance.
Can you imagine that? What should I say?
That I know nothing? That my whole life was spent buried under books?
While everyone else was learning how to live, I was busy decorating my father's dream.
And when people asked, I just smiled and said I'm introverted.
But Papa... I was just my mother's Adu."
Her voice rose, raw with frustration.
"It wasn't like that, Adu-" he tried, but she cut him off.
"I'm not stupid, Papa, I'm just introverted.
Do you really think I don't understand? Suddenly I was called for my cousin's wedding.
I was attacked there-and the attacker escaped?
Really? That palace can't even breathe without permission, and yet an intruder came, attacked me, and vanished?
No one caught? Papa, I was raised in a political family-I know what that means. "
Her words grew sharper.
"And then, out of nowhere-'Adhrita, marry Vritant.
' What did I know about them? Nothing. And when I tried to take a breath before deciding, you sent me an email.
Telling me I was nothing but the CM's daughter.
You're not wrong, Papa-I was nothing but the CM's daughter.
Because my whole life revolved around you.
Around being your daughter. But not anymore. "
Her chest heaved as the decision left her lips.
"Maybe you won't like it, but from tomorrow, I will start practicing in Delhi.
As Dr. Adhrita Vardhan. And you know what?
In all of this, at least Vritant asked me once what I actually want.
My suffix doesn't matter, Papa, as long as I have a prefix .
And unlike here, in the name of security, I'm not being suffocated.
I'm given the freedom to fight whatever threatens me. "
Her father's lips trembled as he looked at her, eyes glistening but voice steady.
"I only ever knew how to protect you, Adu. Maybe I called it love, maybe I forced it as duty... but if I made you feel caged, then I failed you-as a father more than as a man."
He fell silent, his gaze dropping, unable to meet hers.
For a long moment, Adhrita just stood there, her fists clenched at her sides. She didn't reply, didn't even give him the satisfaction of her anger. With measured steps, she turned away and walked out, leaving him alone in the silence of his own choices.
??? V ? A ???
"None of the clips show anyone slipping the report into her clutch, Rawat," Vritant snapped into the phone. "Then how the hell did she get it? By evening, I want every analyst combing through those five hours of footage."
He ended the call in frustration and immediately dialed another number.
"Vritant?" Radhika Mehta's voice came through, half question, half concern.
"Someone leaked my coma report," he said flatly.
"What? That's impossible. All your records are safe with me." Panic edged her words.
"Are you sure?" His voice sharpened. "Or are you the one who slipped it into my wife's purse?"
"Are you insane? I just came to congratulate you and left. Why would I-wait... your wife knows?"
"Yes," he drawled, sarcasm dripping. "Lucky me, she's a doctor. She can read those lines better than anyone."
"Vritant, this is serious."
"Oh, thank you. And here I thought I called to showcase my new sarcasm skills," he cut back.
"Did she question you? Any flashbacks? Any recent episode?"
"Well," he said coolly, "I can consult you later. Right now, I'm more interested in knowing how someone reached my wife without my knowledge. And as far as that report goes-" his voice dropped to a bitter edge, "-it was all over the internet. So she'd know sooner or later."
He cut the call before she could respond.
Vritant stepped out of the room, intending to look for Adhrita, when he caught sight of her. She was rushing out of another room, her face tight, her steps urgent. Before he could follow, her father emerged from the same doorway. The pieces clicked instantly.
He walked over to Ashwin.
"You've ruined my daughter," Ashwin said quietly, eyes still fixed in the direction Adhrita had run.
Vritant arched a brow, smirking. "What happened? Did she finally give you the classic-'I don't consider you my CM or my papa' speech?"
His voice stayed sharp, but a shadow crossed his face. "She never spoke for herself before. And now she did..." He left the sentence hanging, heavy with regret.
Vritant gave a short laugh without humor. "Ah, perks of being a Vardhan, Sasurji."
Ashwin exhaled, his tone lower now. "She thinks I'm the villain." His gaze flicked to Vritant. "And maybe she's right. It took her years to accept that even a father can be one, not just a hero."
Vritant's smirk thinned into something colder. "If that's all it took, you're lucky. Because when she learns the whole truth..." He paused, his voice cutting. "She'll hate me."
Without another word, he turned away, his eyes already following the path Adhrita had taken. He didn't need to ask where she'd gone - some instinct pulled him in her direction.
Adhrita was sitting on the swing, her hands limp on the chains, her feet brushing the ground just enough to keep her swaying. Her eyes weren't on the garden, not even on the stars - just lost, staring into a particular nothing.
Vritant stood there for a moment, watching her. She looked too small for the silence she was carrying. Finally, he stepped forward, the crunch of gravel announcing him.
She didn't move, didn't look at him, just kept rocking faintly.
"You know," he said, sliding one hand along the chain of the swing to still her motion, "for someone who can argue with a scalpel in her hand, you're terrible at hiding when something's cutting you open."
She finally looked up at him, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "And what are you now? My therapist?"
He leaned down, one hand on the swing's chain, the other braced on the seat beside her hip. Suddenly, he was much too close - close enough that her breath caught, close enough that the faint brush of his hair nearly grazed her forehead.
For a second, he froze - not expecting her to turn, to bury herself against him as if he were the only place left to breathe. Her arms clutched him tightly, desperately, and something inside him cracked.
Almost without thinking, his arm came around her, strong and steady, pulling her closer. His chin brushed her temple, and before he even realized, his lips pressed into her hair in the faintest of kisses - instinct, not intention.
Adhrita felt it. The weight of it. And she held him tighter.
They stayed like that, suspended in the quiet of the garden, the swing swaying gently beneath them. He didn't speak, and for once, she didn't need words.
By the end of the day, everyone had a villain, nobody had an answer, and he - apparently - had a wife who hugs him anyway.
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