The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Armaan and Abhira’s room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was quiet, almost suffocating, with the weight of unspoken words still lingering from the previous night. 

Abhira stirred first, her eyes fluttering open as the events of the previous day came rushing back. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to gather the strength she needed to face another day in the Poddar household. Her heart felt heavy, her mind burdened with the constant struggle to balance expectations and her own identity. 

Turning her head slightly, she glanced at Armaan’s back. He was still lying on the bed, his breathing steady, though there was a tension in the way his body curved inward. A pang of helplessness hit her as she observed him, realizing they were both trapped in a situation that seemed impossible to mend. 

With a deep sigh, she swung her legs off the couch and headed to the washroom, closing the door behind her. The sound of running water filled the room. 

Armaan’s eyes opened slowly at the sound, his gaze immediately seeking the couch. When he didn’t find her there, a momentary panic set in, but the realization of the water running in the washroom calmed him. She was still here. 

He got up, rubbing his face with his hands, and began to straighten the room. He folded the blanket from the couch and placed it neatly inside the cupboard. The pillows were returned to their place on the bed, and he smoothed the sheets. His movements were methodical, almost mechanical, but his mind wasn’t present. 

It was stuck on the events of the previous night—the silence, the pain in Abhira’s eyes, the way she had avoided him. He felt powerless, a failure as both a husband and a companion. He wanted to help her, to make this place bearable for her, but every step he took seemed to backfire. 

The sound of the washroom door opening pulled him from his thoughts. Abhira emerged, her hair damp, her face fresh but carrying a weight she couldn’t hide. She paused when she saw him near the cupboard and then glanced at the couch, now neatly made. 

Her eyes flickered back to him as she moved toward the dressing table. She reached for the small box of vermillion, carefully applying a pinch to her hairline. Armaan’s gaze softened as he watched her. For reasons he couldn’t fully explain, that simple gesture filled him with a strange sense of peace, as if it anchored him amidst the chaos. 

Their eyes met in the mirror, and for a moment, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy this time; it was filled with unsaid emotions that neither knew how to articulate. Finally, Abhira broke the quiet. 

“You didn’t need to do that, Mr. Poddar.” she said, her voice neutral but edged with a tiredness he couldn’t ignore. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Armaan replied, his voice low but firm. “I just wanted to help.” 

She turned to face him then, her expression hardening. “Help? That’s a strange word coming from you. If you really wanted to help, maybe you could start by not standing silent while your family compares me to Ruhi at every step.” 

His jaw tightened. “You think I don’t see what they’re doing? You think it is easy for me to just retaliate like that?” 

“If u see what they are doin,then do something about it!” she snapped, her voice rising for the first time. “And it's difficult to stand by ur wife? Why? Are you scared that you will loose the golden boy of this house ka title?” 

Her words stung, but he kept his tone even. “And what do you expect me to do, Abhira? Fight every battle for you? Speak up every time without analysing the situation? This family doesn’t work that way.” 

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but her voice didn’t falter. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Mr. Poddar. I need you to stand beside me, and if you can’t do that, then let me fight, Don’t stop me when I want to say my part. All these months you’ve only distanced yourself, and I feel like I’m fighting alone.” 

For a moment, his face softened, but it quickly hardened again. “Abhira not every argument is won when you fight the elders, you can put your points forward even without offending Dadi Sa.” he said quietly. 

She looked at him, her expression one of pure disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself Mr. Poddar?” 

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with emotions that neither knew how to handle. Without another word, Abhira grabbed her dupatta and walked out of the room, leaving Armaan standing there, his fists clenched at his sides. 

As the door clicked shut behind her, he sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with questions neither had the courage to ask and answers they were too afraid to hear.

_________

A

bhira walked into the kitchen, her mind still clouded with the lingering tension from her confrontation with Armaan. As she stepped in, the bright yellow of Ruhi’s saree caught her attention, almost blinding her. Ruhi was beaming, radiating the excitement of a new bride as she prepared for her pehli rasoi. The room buzzed with energy, all the ladies gathered around, offering their support for Ruhi but no Judgments. For judgments in this house were reserved only for Abhira Sharma.

Dadi sa’s sharp eyes immediately landed on Abhira. “Ladki, so you finally decided to grace us with your presence,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Vidya chimed in, her tone equally cutting. “Late as usual, Abhira. Some things never change.” 

Abhira squared her shoulders, her voice calm yet firm. “I’m late by just a few minutes. I—” 

“Enough!” Dadi sa interrupted, raising her hand. “Don’t spoil the ritual with your excuses. This is Ruhi’s moment, and I won’t have it ruined because of you.” 

Manisha, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Abhira’s. It was a silent gesture, but it spoke volumes—her way of saying, I’m here with you.

Vidya took the opportunity to guide Ruhi, her voice overly sweet as she explained the ritual. “Ruhi beta, this is your pehli rasoi, a very special moment for a new bride. You’ll prepare something simple yet meaningful to symbolize your entry into the family’s kitchen.” She paused, her gaze flicking to Abhira with a sly smile. “Not like some people who turned their pehli rasoi into a disaster.” 

The taunt stung, and Abhira clenched her fists, the memory flashing vividly in her mind. Unlike Ruhi, she had never been celebrated as a new bride. Her entry into the Poddar household had been anything but grand. There were no rituals, no moments of joy—just silent judgment and disapproval. 

Her pehli rasoi had been a grueling task, handed a long list of dishes to prepare for lunch, with no room for mistakes and no help. She remembered the humiliation of Dadi sa publicly calling her out for putting a little extra salt in the dal, making it a spectacle for everyone conveniently ignoring the table full of dishes that were descent if not perfect. 

Shaking off the memory, she refocused on the scene before her. Ruhi, with a shy smile, announced, “I’ll make kheer for everyone.” 

Kajal giggled, teasing her. “Of course, kheer! After all, it’s Rohit’s favorite, isn’t it?” 

Dadi sa, clearly pleased, turned to Abhira with her usual sharp tone. “Ladki, help Ruhi. And while you’re at it, manage the rest of the breakfast. I don’t want any complaints.” With that, she left the kitchen, leaving Abhira to manage the task at hand. 

Abhira nodded silently, biting back the resentment threatening to spill over. She glanced at Manisha, who gave her a small nod of encouragement. Turning to Ruhi, who was already gathering ingredients for the kheer, Abhira took a deep breath and stepped forward, ready to do what was asked of her, even if every part of it felt unfair.

As Abhira silently worked on chopping vegetables, Ruhi glanced at her, a sly smile playing on her lips. She measured the rice for the kheer and began speaking, her voice filled with mock concern. 

“Jethani Sa, you must’ve struggled a lot during your pehli rasoi, right?” Ruhi said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. “I mean, handling such a big household without any prior experience… must’ve been overwhelming.” 

Abhira didn’t respond immediately, choosing to focus on her task. Her silence only encouraged Ruhi to continue. 

“It’s just that... I’ve heard stories. You know, about how the dal was too salty and the rotis were undercooked,” Ruhi added with a chuckle. “Poor Dadi sa must’ve been so disappointed.” 

Abhira finally looked up, her eyes sharp. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Ruhi. But since you’re so interested, why don’t you focus on your kheer and let me worry about breakfast?” 

Ruhi’s smile faltered, but she wasn’t one to back down. “I was just making conversation, Jethani Sa. No need to get defensive.” 

Abhira gave her a cold look and went back to her work, refusing to engage further. Ruhi opened her mouth to deliver another sharp remark when Krish and Aaryan suddenly entered the kitchen, their energy lighting up the room. 

“Bhabhi! Bhabhi!” Krish called out enthusiastically, walking straight to Abhira. “Can you please make your special poha? I’ve been craving it for weeks!” 

Before Abhira could respond, Charu and Kiara walked in behind them. “And make some extra for us, too,” Charu added with a grin. “We’ll take it along to work. Your poha is a lifesaver!” 

Ruhi, who had been watching the exchange, interrupted with a sweet yet pointed tone. “Oh, but I’m making kheer for everyone. Why don’t you try that instead? You can have a little less poha today.” 

Krish glanced at the pot of kheer on the stove and made a face. “Sorry, Ruhi Bhabhi, but I hate kheer. Can’t stand the texture.” 

Aaryan chimed in, shrugging. “And I’m lactose intolerant, so that’s a hard pass for me. Poha it is!” 

Ruhi’s smile tightened as she realized her plan to divert attention from Abhira had failed miserably. Abhira, however, hid a smirk as she continued preparing breakfast. The chorus gang high-fived each other behind Ruhi’s back, clearly having overheard her earlier taunts and relishing her discomfort. 

As they left the kitchen, Ruhi shot Abhira a glare, but Abhira didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she stirred the poha with a serene expression, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. It was her silent victory, and for now, that was enough.

_________

The Poddar dining table was impeccably set, reflecting the stature of the family. The large rectangular table gleamed under the light, adorned with silverware and delicate ceramic dishes. Kaveri sat at the head of the table, her authoritative presence commanding attention. Rohit and Armaan sat on either side of her, as if flanking their mother, while Madhav and Vidya sat together on one side, with Manoj and Manisha on the other. Kajal and Sanjay occupied seats further down, next to the chorus gang—Krish, Aaryan, Charu, and Kiara—all bubbling with energy. 

Abhira and Ruhi took turns serving everyone, their roles clear as they moved around the table with dishes in hand. 

Vidya and Kaveri completely ignored the poha, their attention solely on the kheer. “Ruhi, this is exceptional,” Vidya said, taking a small spoonful. “Exactly the kind of taste we expect from our new bahu.” 

Kaveri nodded in agreement, a proud smile on her face. “Sach mein, Vidya. Aaj kal ke zamane mein aisi kheer toh kisi aur ke haath se nahi banegi.” 

Ruhi glowed under their praise, but when she approached Madhav to serve him, he waved his hand lightly. “One spoon is enough for me, Ruhi Beta. I need to keep fit to catch criminals, you know. Too much sugar is my enemy.” 

Abhira couldn’t help but chuckle at her father-in-law’s remark, earning a brief, warm smile from him. 

Ruhi moved on to Manoj and Manisha, carefully serving them. As she turned away, Manisha leaned closer to her husband and whispered, “Manu, I don’t think this kheer is as good as the praises Jethani Sa and Maa Sa are showering on it.” 

Manoj gave a small nod of agreement but murmured, “Shh, don’t say it out loud. Just smile.” 

Further down the table, Sanjay took a bite of the kheer and immediately broke into loud praise. “Ruhi, this is fantastic. Truly the work of an artist in the kitchen!” 

Kajal was diplomatic, smiled and placed a blessing hand on Ruhi’s head. “Sada suhagan raho, Ruhi. Tumhe sabhi rasmon mein safalta mile.” 

However, when Ruhi tried to serve Charu and Kiara, they both shook their heads politely. “No thanks, Ruhi Bhabhi” Charu said. “We don’t do such heavy breakfasts.” 

Kiara added with a smile, “We’ll stick to the poha. It’s light and healthy” 

As they happily munched on the poha, Krish and Aaryan joined them, loudly praising the Poha. “This is just perfect, bhabhi!” Aaryan said, taking another serving. “Nothing can beat your special poha.” 

Ruhi’s smile faltered as she turned to serve Rohit. He took a bite, nodded, and said with a smile, “It’s so good, Ruhi. But, to be honest, not as good as the kheer bhabhi made on her pehli rasoi. Remember Bhaiya, that kheer was unforgettable.” 

Ruhi’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she avoided meeting Abhira’s eyes. Abhira, meanwhile, stood quietly near the table, her lips curling into a small smile as she busied herself with serving the remaining poha. 

Armaan, sitting quietly, glanced at her. Seeing the subtle lift of her lips, a rare moment of lightness in her otherwise tense demeanor, he couldn’t help but smile faintly in return. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but enough to warm the unspoken bond between them amidst the chaotic morning.

Ruhi’s face burned with humiliation as the chorus gang and even Rohit seemed to favor Abhira’s cooking. Determined to salvage her pride, she decided she wouldn’t let Abhira walk away unscathed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she picked up a small bowl of kheer and approached Armaan, her tone dripping with sweetness. 

“Armaan,” Ruhi began, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “You haven’t even tried the kheer I made. Please try some.” 

Armaan, sensing her intentions, silently took the bowl from her without a word. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t want to escalate matters. 

Ruhi’s next target was Abhira. She walked over to her, kheer in hand, and smiled brightly. “Abhira, I made this with so much love. Why don’t you try it? Let me feed you myself.” 

Abhira immediately stepped back, her face hardening. “No, thank you, Ruhi. I’m...” 

Ruhi’s smile didn’t falter, but her tone sharpened slightly. “Come on, Abbira. It’s just a spoonful. Don’t hurt my feelings.” 

Before Abhira could respond, Vidya chimed in with a sharp taunt. “Abhira, it wouldn’t hurt to appreciate Ruhi’s efforts. After all, she’s worked so hard.” 

Still, Abhira shook her head. “I appreciate the effort Maa,  but I really can't...” 

Dadi sa, who had been observing, decided to intervene. “Ladki, this stubbornness of yours is exactly why you don’t fit into this family. Learn to accept gestures of love.” 

Abhira’s lips parted to protest, but before she could, Ruhi took advantage of the moment. With a show of mock affection, she forcibly shoved a spoonful of kheer into Abhira’s mouth. “See? It’s delicious, isn’t it?” Ruhi said loudly, turning to the others for validation. 

Abhira’s face flushed with anger as she swallowed, her hand pushing Ruhi’s away before she could attempt to feed her another bite. “That’s enough, Ruhi,” she said firmly. 

Ruhi staggered back dramatically, clutching her hand as though Abhira had hurt her. “What is this behavior, Abhira? I was only trying to share something I made with so much love.” 

Vidya stood up, glaring at Abhira. “Is this how you treat your family, Abhira? Your arrogance is becoming unbearable.” 

Dadi sa’s voice rose next. “This is what we get for accepting someone from outside our family traditions. No respect, no gratitude.” 

Abhira’s frustration bubbled over as she opened her mouth to defend herself. “I didn’t do anything wrong! She—” 

Rohit interrupted her. “Bhabhi, you should’ve been more careful. Ruhi was only trying to make you feel included.” 

That was the breaking point for Armaan. His voice was sharp as he called out, “Rohit, enough!” 

Dadi sa immediately hushed him. “Don’t take that tone in front of me, Armaan. You’re making the situation worse.” 

Armaan took a deep breath and glanced at Abhira’s tense frame. “I apologize on her behalf,” he said reluctantly, his voice soft but steady. 

Abhira’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Dadi Sa..” she started. 

“Main baat kar raha hoon na, Abhira?” he interrupted, his voice firm but laden with unspoken regret. 

Her eyes filled with tears as his words cut deeper than any taunt could. Without another word, she turned and rushed out of the dining area, leaving everyone in stunned silence. 

Armaan clenched his fists, anger bubbling under his calm exterior. He cursed himself silently, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure. 

Dadi sa took the opportunity to deliver another cutting remark. “There she goes again, running away instead of facing her responsibilities.” 

But Armaan wasn’t listening. His focus remained on the door Abhira had disappeared through, guilt weighing heavily on his chest.

Manisha’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as she spoke up. “Abhira didn’t refuse the kheer because she didn’t like it or she wanted to disrespect anybody… She’s allergic to raisins, and the kheer had those” she said softly, her eyes flickering to the others, unsure of how they would react. 

The words hit Armaan like a punch to the gut, a surge of panic flooding through him. Without another thought, he stood up abruptly, his heart racing. “She is allergic?” he asked, his voice tight. 

“She—she had told us once during an icecream party,” Kaira stammered, watching as Armaan hurriedly walked toward the hallway. 

As Armaan reached their room, his mind raced. What if it was too late? What if something had already happened to her? His breath hitched in his chest as he pushed the door open, relieved to find it ajar. The sounds of muffled retching reached his ears, sending his heart into overdrive. 

He rushed to the bathroom, his pulse hammering in his ears, and there she was—Abhira, leaning against the sink, her face pale, her body trembling as she vomited. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes were clouded with discomfort. 

"Abhira!" Armaan’s voice cracked as he moved to help her, but she recoiled, shaking her head violently. 

“Go, Mr. Poddar,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice strained. “Just leave me alone.” 

He froze, his chest tightening at her words. He could see the pain in her eyes, the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide. "No," he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not fine. Let me help you.” 

Abhira turned her face away, unwilling to meet his gaze. “I don’t need your help. I’m not a child. You don’t have to fix everything.” 

The words stung, but he didn’t let them push him away. He could see the signs—her throat was slowly swelling, and her mouth looked inflamed. There were visible rashes spreading across her arms, which she scratched absently, as if trying to ignore them. 

His breath hitched. “Abhira, you’re—your throat is swelling. You need help. Please, let me take care of you.” 

But she just shook her head again, her voice breaking as she whispered, “I don’t want your pity. I don’t need it.” 

Armaan felt the frustration boil inside him, but he could not bring himself to argue. He just couldn’t. His heart ached too much. Without saying another word, he carefully scooped her into his arms, ignoring her protests, and moved out of the bathroom. 

As he stepped into the room, the family had already gathered, some faces full of concern others didn’t care much. The chorus gang rushed to him, their eyes wide with worry, but it was Charu who moved quickest, her eyes landing on Abhira's swelling body. 

“Armaan Bhaiya, get her to the bed, quickly,” Charu instructed, and Armaan did as told, lying Abhira down as gently as possible, his hands trembling. He felt completely lost, unable to act on his own, as if everything he had built was crumbling around him. 

Charu was already grabbing Abhira’s epipen from her hand bag, her movements swift and practiced. With a steady hand, she administered it, watching as Abhira’s body stiffened before slowly relaxing. 

Armaan watched, helpless, his hands gripping his coat, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He held his breath as Abhira’s breathing grew steadier, her body slowly calming down. 

A dull ache settled in Armaan’s chest, a deep, gnawing feeling of something precious slipping through his fingers. His eyes never left her, his worry overwhelming everything else. 

Just then, the door opened, and Madhav entered with the doctor, her expression serious. “I called her immediately when we realized what was happening,” Madhav said, his face tight with concern. 

The doctor moved quickly toward Abhira, her practiced hands checking her vitals. “Everyone, please vacate the room,” she instructed. “I need to check on her.” 

Armaan didn’t move. He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her side. But the others, seeing the doctor’s intent, reluctantly filed out of the room. 

The minutes dragged by as Armaan stood by the door, pacing anxiously. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was impossible. He had never felt this lost in his life, this terrified. 

Finally, the doctor came out, her expression unreadable. She turned to the family, her eyes flicking to Armaan. “She’s going to be okay,” she said, her voice calm. “The reaction was serious, but with the epipen, we were able to control it. Her throat and mouth are swollen, but it should reduce in the next few hours. Just make sure she’s monitored, especially today.” 

Armaan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his body sagging with relief. But the weight of what had happened lingered, heavy and suffocating. 

The doctor turned back to Armaan before leaving the room. “Just be vigilant. Allergic reactions can get worse before they get better. Watch her closely.” 

Armaan nodded wordlessly, his eyes already drifting back to Abhira as she slowly regained consciousness, her expression tired but calming. 

Abhira stirred slightly, her eyes opening, and she looked directly at him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, glancong at her tired and pale face he whispered, “Abhira.” 

She turned her head slightly, looking away from him, her voice trembling. “Please,” she murmured. “I don’t want to talk.” 

Armaan’s heart broke at her words. He looked away from her, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Abhira, I am Sorry.” 

She closed her eyes, her tear falling quietly, as he glanced back at her. There was so much unspoken between them—so much pain, so many words unsaid. But no body amongst the two was ready to let them out.

_________

A

rmaan sat beside Abhira, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her face as she slept, her breathing steady but soft. Her body was still slightly tense from the allergic reaction, and he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his own guilt. He had failed to protect her from something so simple—something that should have never happened in the first place. His hand lingered by her side, fingers inches from her, as though afraid to touch her, afraid to wake her in this fragile state. 

His heart raced at the thought of her so vulnerable, and the instinct to protect her surged within him, but he hesitated. What if his protection was the last thing she needed right now? What if she felt overwhelmed by him, just like many others ? His chest tightened at the thought. He couldn’t let her bear the pain of his baggage. 

After a long moment of internal conflict, he slowly pulled his hand back, deciding it was better to leave her undisturbed. 

He turned his gaze toward the door and then back to Abhira. She needed space to rest, to heal, and he couldn’t do it alone. 

"Charu," Armaan said, his voice low, as he turned toward the doorway. 

Charu, who had been standing nearby, watching over Abhira, immediately stepped forward. “I’m here,” she said softly. “Don’t worry.” 

Armaan nodded, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his emotions. “Please stay with her. I’ll be back soon.” 

With that, he left the room, his mind set on one thing: confronting Ruhi. 

When Armaan reached Ruhi’s door, he took a deep breath before knocking sharply. His jaw was set, and his expression was unreadable. He knew this confrontation was inevitable, but that didn’t mean it was easy. 

The door opened, and Ruhi stood there, her face a mix of surprise and irritation. “Armaan,” she said coolly, but he could see the hint of defensiveness in her eyes. 

“Step outside,” Armaan commanded, his voice calm but firm. 

Ruhi looked at him for a moment before stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. “What’s this about, Armaan?” she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. 

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You know exactly what this is about. The kheer incident.” 

Her expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “What about it?” she asked, her tone becoming sharper. 

Armaan took a step closer, his gaze hardening. “Ruhi, you’ve crossed a line. I know what your problem with Abhira is, but this has to stop. You can’t keep doing this to her.” 

Ruhi’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest pulling off a pretentious act. “I was just trying to be nice, Armaan. I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up over something so small.” 

“It’s not small, Ruhi,” Armaan said, his voice low but intense. “It’s about respect. Abhira isn’t someone you can just hurt whenever you feel like it. She’s my wi.. the elder daughter in law of the house, and I won’t let you do this to her again.” 

Ruhi’s face flushed with indignation. “Oh so Amraan Poddar is concerned for the daughter in law of the house.” 

Armaan’s jaw clenched at her words, his patience wearing thin. “Don’t talk like that and stay in your limits, Ruhi. This has ends now.” 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh Come On Armaan, don't get so hyper for a name sake relationship. Even you know what u and abhira have is a compulsion.” 

Armaan took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lose his temper. “You should be more concerned and aware about your relationship with Rohit and stay away from what me and abhira have. Do you understand?” 

Ruhi stood there, her arms still crossed, “Just like how you were aware about Your wife's allergy, right Armaan?” she muttered, turning her face away. 

Armaan stepped back, his voice cold. “Just stay away from her, Ruhi. I’m warning you.” 

He didn’t wait for a response or added another response, turning sharply and walking away. As he reached for the door handle, he paused for a moment, glancing back. He saw Ruhi standing in the hallway, her arms still crossed, but now her gaze was distant, lost. 

*..*..*..*..*..*

Ik this version of Armaan feels a little aloof, but you will find this version is more like the initial days of the abhimaan contract marriage.

Things get better after their first conversation away from the pressure of the Poddar house hold and it's coming soon.

~TheLostSoul