Chapter 44 Normal Is Overrated
Family is a battlefield disguised as love.
- Author
"Sir, the local lines are affected badly and I need to take action - and Samarjeet bhau is getting angry with me," CM Abhijeet Bapat said over the call.
"Can't you handle Mumbai people? Work with Mamaji and solve the issue," Vritant said flatly and cut the call.
He immediately dialled Maya Awasthi. "They're busy handling the chaos. Where are you?"
"You know I hate you..." she said from the other end.
"Maya," Vritant warned, his tone sharp.
"You and Jay both are just- I swear I'll tell Iva your and Jay's little secret!" she snapped.
"And I know you're not in love with Alex," Vritant replied coolly. "Alex is gay. You're in love with-"
"Shut up!" she interrupted, furious.
"Ah... still sensitive about it. Maya Awasthi does have a weakness," he said with a smirk.
"And you're a bastard," she shot back.
"I wouldn't have touched your weakness if you hadn't touched mine - or Agnivanshi's," he countered.
"What do you want me to do now?" she asked bluntly.
"Protect my wife while I'm busy taking care of some business."
"Yeah, right. As if I don't already hate her."
"Maya." His tone turned cold, commanding.
"Yeah, yeah. Mrs. Vritant Vardhan," she said, dripping sarcasm.
"Stop hating her."
"You love her insanely - that's enough reason to hate her, Vritant," she said bitterly.
"Agnivanshi will handle this. He knows more about Iva than anyone. And since I knew you'd refuse, I prefer Kiaan."
"Kiaan isn't ready to enter your world."
"Well, he has to. I spoke to him - and to Agnivanshi. He's joining my world."
"You really are a manipulative bastard," Maya shouted.
"Guess who loves this manipulative bastard?" he said with a smirk. "Of course, my Hrita."
Maya hung up on him in anger.
Seconds later, his phone rang again. Mamaji.
"Vritant... beta... your Mami..."
"What happened to her?" Vritant asked, pretending ignorance.
"She left a message saying she's going to Banaras. But anyone who knows her knows she'd never go without my permission. Vritant, you didn't do anything... right, beta?"
"Nope. Vritant didn't do anything," he said calmly.
"I checked the security footage - she left the house on her own," Mamaji said, his voice laced with worry.
"Oh, then she must have gone to Banaras for some mannat for Ashish," Vritant said dryly. "But as I promised you, Mamaji, I won't touch Ashish."
"I'm stuck here with this local train crisis in Mumbai. Please, Vritant... find her."
"Sure, Mamaji. I'll try my best," he said and cut the call.
Leaning back in his chair, he murmured to himself with a faint smirk,
"Vritant Vardhan didn't do anything... but Adhrita ka pati is out for his wife."
??? V ? A ???
"Ghar aajao..."
Adhrita's broken voice, her tear-streaked face - it flashed before him in his nightmare.
(Come home)
"Jaan..." he whispered in his sleep, breath trembling. Tears slipped from his closed eyes.
(Life)
Adhrita stirred awake at the sound of his voice. She turned, alarmed, and shook his shoulder. He jolted upright, eyes wide open, drenched in sweat.
Without a word, he pulled her into his arms - so tightly it felt like he was holding on for life itself.
She tried to reach for his wrist, instinctively wanting to check his pulse, but his grip only grew firmer, desperate.
After a few moments, he loosened his hold. She eased back, looking at him. For once, the man of control looked... human - vulnerable, unguarded. She could lean on him for her pain, but him? He never let anyone carry his.
She got out of bed quietly, walked to the fridge, poured a glass of water, and came back.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered.
She handed him the glass. He took it wordlessly and drained it in one go.
"I'm sorry. You sleep," he murmured, tapping the space beside him.
She lay down again, and without hesitation, reached for his hand - pressed it against her chest and closed her eyes.
After a while, when he thought she'd fallen asleep, he gently freed his hand and slipped out of the house.
The lake outside shimmered under the faint glow of the night lamps. He switched them on and sat at the edge, letting the cold water lap around his feet.
A faint movement caught his eye - her reflection. He turned. She was standing there.
"Why are you up?" he asked softly, stretching out a hand toward her.
She took it and sat beside him. His arm instinctively went around her waist, pulling her closer.
"Vritant..." she said quietly.
He hummed in response.
"This... this is bothering me," she said, her voice small.
He bent his head slightly to meet her eyes. "I promise, jaan, I won't leave him," he said - though she wasn't talking about him at all.
"More than him," she murmured, "this distance between us is bothering me."
He sighed, guilt flickering in his gaze. "I couldn't protect you. Twice."
"I saved myself both times," she countered gently.
"It was my duty to protect you."
"Your duty," she said quietly, "is to protect me only when I can't protect myself."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them - heavy but soft. Then, he finally gathered the courage to ask,
"Can you share how you're feeling?"
She looked at him, eyes steady. "Only if you promise not to feel guilty," she said.
He nodded, wordless.
"I hated his hands on me..." she said, voice trembling. "It felt disgusting. When you touch me, I feel... loved. Cherished. But when he touched me- I felt cheap. Dirty. It was horrible. It reminded me of..."
She stopped mid-sentence, her voice breaking.
"Prof. John?" Vritant asked quietly.
Her head snapped up in shock. "How do you know?"
"You really think I wouldn't know things about my wife?" he said softly - but the sadness in his tone was unmistakable. He still blamed himself - for the riots, for the danger, for everything she endured.
"He didn't... harass me," she said after a pause. "He wanted to."
"To sleep with you," Vritant finished, voice cold, jaw tightening.
Adhrita looked away, her eyes fixed on their reflections rippling in the water.
"Hrita..." he said gently, "share with me - anything, everything."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, her breath uneven. "What should I tell you, Vritant? I was always an introverted kid... quiet, invisible."
"If it hurts, let it," he murmured.
"I want to heal," she whispered. "Because if I don't, I'll stay insecure. And I'll ruin this... whatever we have. I want to have a normal life with you, Vritant. I don't want to wake up scared after dreaming of you."
He exhaled deeply, then cupped her face gently and said, "Then let it all out, jaan. Empty everything."
And with that, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead - not to silence her pain, but to promise he'd stay through it.
"I was papa ki laadli beti," she began softly. "Mumma always said, 'don't love her too much, bigad jayegi.' They both loved me like I was the angel of their life. I was never ready to face the world - they'd kept me so protected."
(papa's dear child)
She smiled faintly, as if watching her own childhood play like a film.
"I wanted to be a doctor because when I was six, Papa got sick. A doctor treated him, and I thought - that's what I want to do. Heal people. Mumma always said she loved my eyes..."
Her voice trembled as she continued, "Then at sixteen, I found out Mumma had cancer. That was the first time I really felt pain - real pain. I cried like a child who'd lost her sky." She took a shaky breath. "Within a year, she left me, Vritant. She couldn't survive..."
"Hey..." he whispered, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "Mumma wouldn't like you crying."
She nodded, smiling weakly. "After she left, my life turned upside down.
I lost Papa too - not to death, but to distance.
He stopped seeing me. Stopped loving me.
Within two weeks, he decided to send me to the U.S.
to study medicine. I begged him to let me stay, to mourn her, but he didn't listen.
He just... shipped me off to the first world. "
She let out a bitter laugh. "When I reached there, I was so lost. No Mumma to understand my silence, no Papa to check if I was eating or sleeping.
I thought he sent me there so I could fulfil my dream, so I didn't mourn.
I just buried myself in work. Years passed, and then one day I realised - I was utterly alone. "
"Hey..." Vritant tried to say, but she shook her head.
"I was so alone all the time, Vritant," she whispered. "I became more American than Indian... except for Mumma's sanskaar. Every festival - Navratri, Diwali - it hurt. Mumma and I used to light up our whole house with diyas. In the U.S., I used to light just one - in front of her photo."
He asked quietly, "Why didn't you come back?"
She gave a small, broken laugh. "For whom, Vritant? Chachu, Chachi, and Saanvi were mostly in Mumbai. Papa was too busy being a politician. When I once called him saying I wanted to return, he just asked - 'why?' I didn't have an answer. So I stayed. Until..."
"Until Saanvi and Aryan's wedding," he completed for her.
She nodded. "Yes. Until their wedding. I was invited as 'family,' when I'd almost forgotten what that word felt like. I wanted to come back - not for them, but for myself. To see if it was worth it - everything I'd left behind. I was too young when I made those choices."
Her eyes softened. "When I came back, every corner of my house was soaked in memories. Nostalgia can be beautiful - but it's a trap, you know? So after the wedding, I decided I'd leave again."
"But you married me instead," he said, half amused, half in disbelief.
She laughed, a genuine one this time. "Yes. I married you."
Then her voice dropped. "When I was in college, Professor John used to tell me my eyes were 'unique'...
'captivating.' When I turned twenty-one, he told me he knew I was a virgin - and that I should lose it to him.
" Her hands trembled slightly. "He didn't know I was from a political family.
I told him who my father was - and he vanished. But his name... still intimidates me."
She inhaled deeply. "When Ashish touched me forcibly, it was like reliving that moment. The same disgust. The same helplessness. And in that moment of rage, I stabbed him. I hurt him."
A long silence followed - only the sound of water rippling beneath them.
"This is me," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Completely bare in front of you. I already gave you my body. I already gave you my soul. And now... I've given you my life too."
Vritant didn't speak. He just pulled her closer - as if to protect every broken piece she'd just handed him.
"You trust me so much..." he murmured, brushing a soft kiss on her lips before pausing - waiting for her reaction.
He had been careful with every touch since the Ashish incident, measuring every breath around her.
"I want a normal life with you," she said quietly. "Where my husband loves me without hesitation, without second thoughts. I just want us - not me, my husband, and the past sitting between us."
He looked down, voice barely audible. "Would you... listen to mine?"
Her eyes softened. "Would you tell me everything?" she asked, hope flickering in her tone.
"You're already hurt," he said after a beat. "Adding mine to your pain would be stupid."
"Probably the only stupid thing," she countered gently, "is letting the past come between us."
He sighed, glancing toward the fading night. "Morning's about to break..."
"As if you actually go to the office for work," she said, smirking. "Remind me, why do you even go?"
"To see a beautiful girl," he replied, deadpan.
Her fingers caught the collar of his t-shirt. "What? How dare-"
"Relax, meri jaan," he said, smirking. "Iss Vritant ne agar kisi ko aankh utha kar dekha hai toh sirf ek ladki ko."
"From sarcastic to cheesy? Well done, Dr. Adhrita," she teased, patting her own shoulder.
"I don't even know where to start..." he admitted honestly.
"Start with the obvious. Was there any girl in your life?"
He chuckled. "Ah, typical wifey question. Not answering that."
"So there was one," she said, narrowing her eyes. "And someone just said he's only ever looked at one girl."
"Baaki ko mann ki aankhon se dekha hai," he whispered, and her jaw dropped.
She was about to hit him, but he caught her wrists, laughing. Then he stood, made her stand with him, and led her to the big swing by the veranda. He sat down, and she lay across it, resting her head on his lap.
"You don't behave like this typical husband," she said, half smiling. "And these... shitty jokes are so not Vritant. What happened to your sarcasm?"
"Trying to change the topic," he confessed, "but failing miserably."
"Like you failed in sixth standard?" she quipped, opening one eye to gauge his reaction.
He froze mid-swing. "How do you know that?"
"I... opened your cupboard," she admitted guiltily. "I'm sorry."
He chuckled, brushing her hair off her face. "My wife being sneaky... don't be sorry. If I'd told you, you wouldn't have looked. And honestly, I spied on you first - to know who you really were. You just... sneaked."
"Now tell me," she insisted, poking his chest. "Who was that girl?"
He sighed, took out his phone, and opened a picture from his gallery.
Her eyes widened. "Ivikaa Agnivanshi?"
"No, not Iva," he said quickly. "She's my... bhabhi. I mean- my friend." His tongue stumbled for a moment before he pointed at the woman standing beside her in the photo. "That's Maya Awasthi - Iva's PA."
"You liked her?" she asked softly, a faint tinge of sadness in her tone.
"Nope," he replied, locking his phone. "She liked me."
Adhrita raised a brow. "Sarcastic Vardhan was actually liked by someone? That's... strange."
He smirked. "Well, this sarcastic Vardhan happens to be immensely loved by his wife." He leaned down and pecked her lips gently.
"She's beautiful," Adhrita murmured.
"You're gorgeous," he said simply - his gaze steady, sincere.
Her breath hitched. "Don't distract me... now tell me," she whispered, almost pleading.
He took a slow breath, his thumb tracing idle circles on her arm. "You okay?" he asked again, voice low.
She nodded, took his hand in hers, and squeezed it gently.
With his other hand, he brushed his fingers through her hair - a silent act of comfort before words turned heavier.
"Just like yours, my family was once a happy one," he began quietly. "I, Echo, Papa, and aa..." he cleared his throat, "...the PM sahiba."
He looked down, eyes unfocused.
"We had gone to Mumbai for Ganesh Visarjan. It was supposed to be a celebration. But we were kidnapped from Chowpatty - taken through the sea route, across the border, and then to the LOC.
We were kept there for three days. They wanted their captured men released. They wanted negotiation. And our lives became their leverage."
His voice was low, flat, as if reading from an old, closed file.
"Slapping, kicking, punching - it all became routine. The first day, we were burned - hands, legs - just because they could. They used to plan the day's torture every morning like it was a schedule. Their laughter still echoes in my ears sometimes."
Adhrita's grip on his hand tightened.
"On the third day, they said Nandish Deshmukh refused to negotiate. They told us the government wouldn't trade terrorists for us - and that we'd be killed instead."
He inhaled sharply, eyes distant. "We were terrified. But Echo... he came up with a plan to escape. Stupid, reckless... we were just kids.
I sent him to listen to their conversation near the door. But while dragging himself back, they saw movement. To protect him, I said it was me who heard.
The man slapped me. But he'd seen Echo too. He dragged him to another room. Said he'd kill him by evening."
He paused. His voice trembled faintly - the first sign of breaking.
"Later that evening, one of them said we were being released. I was so happy. I ran to the car where Echo was sitting... and that's when I saw the suicide jacket strapped to him."
Adhrita's breath hitched.
"I was tied to him too," he continued, quietly. "He looked at me and smiled. Told me to go. I said no. He said-" Vritant's voice cracked-"'Two coins, same pocket.'"
A long pause.
"I fell while trying to drag him out. My shoelaces got tangled. When I looked up... he smiled again. And then the blast threw me away. I tried to get up, but one of them saw me alive. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away. My face hit the ground. The side of my face got burnt."
Adhrita swallowed back a sob.
"He took me to another hideout. But before he could do anything else, the army reached them. There was another blast, and they were surrounded. That's how I was saved."
He stopped, staring at nothing. "Echo died. I lived."
Silence stretched. Only their breathing filled it.
"I was taken to the hospital. Papa cremated him.
No one spoke a word. PM Sahiba's speech was lying half-written, and I finished it for her.
I wanted to be like her someday... strong, unshaken.
But all I could hear in that house was the truth - that Vedashree Vardhan and Nandish Deshmukh refused to negotiate.
That my brother died because they didn't bend. "
He exhaled, long and tired.
"I collapsed when I heard that. While my family mourned Echo, I was in the hospital - half-dead already. But then... I was kidnapped again. From the hospital this time."
Adhrita's eyes widened. "What-"
"They weren't done," he said simply. "Their men hadn't been released. So they decided - if they couldn't have their men back, they'd make me one of theirs."
He looked away.
"For seven days, I was in hell. Drowned, burned, drugged, trained with guns. I wasn't allowed to sleep, eat, breathe. They fed me once - I refused - so they-"
"Don't," Adhrita whispered, tears filling her eyes, and she threw her arms around him.
He rested his chin on her shoulder, voice muffled.
"After seven days, I was rescued again. But I wasn't alive. I was a body breathing out of habit. In coma for two years. Samarjeet Mama saved me. Twice. Stayed with me when my family couldn't look at me without breaking."
He fell silent. Only his heartbeat under her ear remained - steady, heavy, real.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You went through all that, and here I was... behaving like it was some puzzle to solve."
He shook his head lightly. "You're my wife," he said, cupping her face. "You bared your body and soul to me. Now it's my turn."
"I hate them..." she murmured, her voice breaking as she hid in the crook of his neck.
"Arey meri jaan..." he whispered, trying to see her face, but she refused to look up.
(Oh.. my life)
"I'll kill them," she said suddenly, her hand tracing the faint line along his neck.
"I hate them for giving you scars," she whispered fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair.
"I hate them for touching you... for breaking you...
I'll never forgive them. Even God- I won't talk to Him. How could He allow this to you?"
"Of course," he said softly, a weak smile flickering. "After all, main Adhrita ka pati hoon. How dare they?"
"Har baat mazak nahi hoti, Ant," she snapped through her tears, pulling back to look at him.
(Everything is not a joke)
He stayed quiet. Her anger was love in disguise - and he knew it.
"I understand now," she continued, voice shaking. "Why you always said tum mujhe pure kyun nahi mil sakte. How could you? A part of you... died with them. Died with Echo."
"Ace..." he said quietly, but she wasn't done.
"What, Ace?" she shot back, wiping her tears roughly. "Because of them, I'll never have my whole husband. And Echo..." her voice broke again. "What was his fault? If he were alive today, maybe- maybe you would've been whole... maybe I'd have my husband without the cracks..."
He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. "You already have him," he whispered. "The rest of me... I left there so I could come back to you."
Her lips quivered. "You always talk like that-like everything is fine."
"It isn't," he said simply. "But I don't need it to be fine. I just need it to be ours."
She looked up at him - eyes red, lips trembling - and for the first time, she didn't see the Prime Minister's son, or the heir of a business empire. She saw a boy who crawled out of fire just to hold her hand without burning her.
"Why do you always sound like you've already made peace with the pain?" she asked softly.
"Because pain and I signed a lifetime contract," he said, his tone dry. "Can't break it. No exit clause."
Her tears turned into a weak laugh. "You're impossible."
He smiled faintly, finally letting his sarcasm breathe between the grief. "And you married the impossible. So technically, you're the bigger idiot here."
She rested her head back on his chest, eyes closing as the dawn light started to break through the horizon.
In that half-light, they both stopped pretending - she stopped trying to fix him, and he stopped trying to hide the cracks.
Maybe love wasn't about healing.
Maybe it was just about sitting beside someone and saying, "I'll stay, even if it still hurts."
He exhaled, long and slow. "Morning's here," he murmured.
"Yeah," she whispered. "And we survived another night."
He chuckled, bitter and soft.
"Survival," he said, "the most romantic thing we do together."
??? V ? A ???
"Phoolon ka taaron ka, sabka kehna hai... ek hazaaron mein meri maami hai... sari umar aapko tang karna hai..." Vritant's voice echoed through the dimly lit Hall of Fame, each word dripping with a mock sweetness that could slice through steel.
(Hindi song)
Sunita Maami's head jerked up. Her hands were tied, her eyes wide - half disbelief, half fear.
"Vritant?" she stammered. "Tumne mujhe... kidnap kiya?"
(You kidnapped me?)
He flashed a charming smile - the kind that had once won business deals and headlines.
"Welcome to Delhi, Maami," he said smoothly, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her like it was an afternoon tea, not an abduction.
"Why did you kidnap me?" she asked, voice trembling.
He tilted his head, smirking. "Some questions don't have answers, Maami... like why Ashish touched my wife."
Her face paled.
He leaned back, lazy and dangerous, and pulled out his phone. With one precise click, the camera shutter broke the silence.He looked at the photo, adjusted the angle slightly, and then sent it via a secure line.
"To whom?" she whispered.
He smiled again, this time colder.
"To the man who thought touching fire was fun."
He looked at her, his tone casual - but his eyes carried the weight of controlled chaos.
"By the way, Maami," he said, rising to leave, "next time you visit Delhi, do call before coming. I hate uninvited guests - and I charge for hospitality now."
Vritant hit send, and the secure message disappeared into Ashish's phone almost instantly.
Seconds later, Ashish's phone buzzed. He opened it, and his face went pale as he saw the photo of Sunita Maami - tied, helpless, yet alive - and Vritant's message underneath:
"This is what happens when you touch what's mine. Consider it a friendly reminder."
Ashish's hands trembled. He wanted to reply, but he knew better than to act rashly. Every instinct screamed at him - Vritant wasn't bluffing.
Almost immediately, another message came through, simple, cold:
"Next time, think before you cross lines you shouldn't even see."
Ashish stared at the screen, sweat forming at his temples. The kind of fear he had never felt before crawled up his spine.
Vritant, on the other end, leaned back, sipping his coffee, perfectly calm.
"To think," he muttered aloud, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "he always thought he was untouchable."
The kind of calm that preceded a storm. And Ashish now understood - Vritant Vardhan never forgave, he only collected debts.
??? V ? A ???
He opened the fridge and stared inside. Empty shelves, an unopened bottle of water, and the cold hum of nothingness greeted him.
He sighed. "Need to go grocery shopping," he muttered.
"Let's go," Adhrita said instantly, appearing beside him with that spark of excitement only she could manage over something so ordinary.
"Not us," he corrected, shutting the fridge door. "I'll ask someone to bring it."
Her smile faded in a blink. "Okay," she said softly, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.
He turned, brows furrowed. "What happened?"
"Nothing," she said with a half-hearted shrug. "I just forgot... I can't even spend a normal day with my husband."
She started to walk away, but his hand shot out, catching hers.
"Chaliye," he said simply.
(Come.)
Her eyes lit up instantly, and before he could even process it, she wrapped her arms around him in pure joy.
He chuckled, hugging her back. "Duniya ki pehli biwi hogi jo dhaniya lene ke liye itni khush ho rahi hai."
(She must be the first wife in the world who's this happy about going to buy coriander.)
She laughed into his chest, and for the first time in days, the air around them felt lighter - almost normal.
He grabbed the car keys, and they headed out together. The silver Mercedes purred to life as they drove off into the quiet evening - just a husband and wife, going grocery shopping like it was the most special thing in the world.
They parked near a small, local grocery store - quiet, almost deserted. Adhrita practically bounced in excitement, picking up a basket before he could protest.
He picked up a bunch of fresh coriander and dropped it into the basket.
"My wife clearly thought I failed nursery-level botany," he said, smirking as he glanced at her.
"I won't forgive you for making me look stupid," she shot back, rolling her eyes.
Without waiting for a reply, she strolled over to another rack and began picking out chocolates, completely ignoring him.
Then he came up behind her, voice low and teasing.
"I had no idea you liked chocolate flavors," he whispered.
She froze mid-reach, and in that instant, several chocolate bars slipped from her hands and tumbled onto the floor.
Vritant laughed quietly, enjoying her flustered expression.
"Don't shout. If people recognize you... it'll be a disaster," he said, stooping to pick up the chocolates. Then, with the same casual ease, he grabbed packets of sanitary pads from another rack and dropped them into the basket.
Adhrita glanced down, saw the pads, and narrowed her eyes.
"Is there anything you don't know about me?" she asked.
He nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"I still don't know which flavor..." he whispered, letting the pause stretch just long enough to make her blush.
She rolled her eyes and hurried to another rack to hide herself, hoping no one in the store recognized them.
And yet, as they walked down the aisles, arguing over coriander, picking up random snacks, and laughing at nothing at all - it wasn't just grocery shopping. It was a stolen fragment of normalcy, a moment that belonged entirely to them, far away from threats, pasts, and scars.
For Vritant, watching her smile like that was worth more than any empire, any power, or any calculated move in the world.
He was behaving like a perfectly normal husband here - teasing, laughing, stealing chocolate kisses - while on the other side of the country, chaos was already unfolding in a Samarjeet-dominated state, meticulously orchestrated by Vritant's hand.
Because for Vritant Vardhan, life could be domestic bliss in one moment... and calculated havoc the next.
??? V ? A ???
Back at Mriga Trishna, Vritant headed straight to the kitchen while Adhrita perched on the slab beside him, helping him chop vegetables and stir the simmering dal.
Once everything was ready, he started making rotis, placing them neatly on the plate. He cleaned his hands, and together they walked to the porch, sitting at the table under the soft glow of the evening lights.
He offered her the first bite, dipping it generously in Gujarati dal.
"You should meet Dr. Radhika," he said casually.
Adhrita paused mid-chew, eyes narrowing, curious.
"I know everything seems normal - laughing, teasing, enjoying food - but I understand how your internal world works," he continued, voice calm but firm. "Especially for someone who overthinks and over-feels everything."
He tore another piece of roti, dipped it in dal, and offered it to her.
"Fine," she said finally, taking the bite. "But we both will go." She chewed, then added after swallowing, "And no excuses."
He handed her a glass of buttermilk. "No worries. I won't leave you alone," he said, watching her carefully.
She sipped it and replied, with a playful but assertive tone, "Nope. You too will resume your sessions."
"But..." he started, but she cut him off.
"I deserve a better husband. I don't mind a broken one," she said, eyes locked on his, "but I also have to be careful your brokenness doesn't hurt me, right?"
She saw the effect immediately - the subtle nod he gave, conceding to her reasoning. A small, victorious smile tugged at her lips. Manipulation, Vardhan style, she thought, but this time, it was her turn.
Vritant merely leaned back, offering her another bite, letting her think she had won - even as he silently accepted the deal she had carefully set.
After dinner, they walked toward the lake, the moonlight casting long, silver shadows across the water. The porch lights faded behind them, leaving only the quiet ripple of the lake and the soft whisper of leaves in the night breeze.
Vritant stopped and turned toward her, the shadows painting his face in sharp contrast, making him look impossibly calm, impossibly in control. "Stay close," he murmured, and when she instinctively leaned toward him, he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his side.
Adhrita tilted her head, letting the cool night air brush her face, and Vritant lowered his lips to her temple, brushing a soft, lingering kiss there. "I like it when it's just us," he whispered.
She shivered slightly, leaning into him as his other hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. He guided her to the edge of the lake, the water shimmering like liquid silver below them. Sitting on a low rock, he pulled her onto his lap, holding her close so her body molded against his.
"Vritant..." she breathed, heart racing as she felt the warmth of his body, the steady strength of his arms.
He rested his forehead against hers, letting their breaths mingle. "Shh... just feel this moment, meri jaan," he murmured. His lips traced hers in a slow, teasing brush before settling into a deeper, more demanding kiss, shadowed by the night, hidden from the world.
(my life)
Her hands slid up his chest, tugging him closer, and he responded with equal intensity, holding her like he'd never let go. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word between them felt like a reclaiming - of safety, of love, of a stolen fragment of normalcy that belonged only to them.
The lake reflected their silhouettes, still and intimate, the world beyond its edges fading away. And in that shadowed corner of Mriga Trishna, Vritant and Adhrita existed in their own universe - where love was the only rule, and nothing else mattered.
All that chaos, trauma, and global crises... just to argue over coriander and chocolate.
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