The golden sunlight crept through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle, amber glow. Morning arrived lazily, the world outside stirring to life with the chirping of birds and the soft rustling of leaves. Inside, the room was hushed, the faint ticking of a clock marking the passage of time. Armaan sat slumped in the chair beside the bed, his body twisted into an uncomfortable position. His tie was loosened, his shirt rumpled, and his sleeves were still rolled up from the night before. A shadow of exhaustion darkened his features, evident in the faint lines on his forehead and the circles under his eyes.

He stirred slightly, shifting to find relief from the ache in his back, but sleep still clung to him. It was a restless sleep, born of sheer exhaustion after a long night spent tending to Abhira. His mind had only allowed him to doze off when her fever had finally broken, leaving him on constant edge even in slumber.

On the bed, Abhira lay still, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her face was pale, but there was a calmness to her features that hadn't been there the night before. Her fever had subsided, leaving her body weak but no longer battling the heat that had drained her. Slowly, her eyelashes fluttered, her lids heavy as she woke.

The first thing she saw was Armaan. He looked out of place and yet completely right, his tall frame folded into the chair, his head tilted awkwardly to the side. His hand rested on the armrest, but her gaze fell on their hands-their fingers still entwined. A warmth bloomed in her chest at the sight.

She shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but the gentle grip of his hand stopped her movement. The rustling of the sheets was enough to stir him. His eyes blinked open, glassy with sleep, before focusing sharply on her.

"Abhira," he breathed, his voice rough and low. He straightened immediately, leaning forward with concern etched deeply into his face. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

She offered him a faint smile, her voice still soft. "I'm fine."

But Armaan wasn't convinced. He rose swiftly from the chair, his movements filled with purpose. Sitting beside her on the bed, he reached behind her to adjust the pillows, carefully propping her up. His hands worked quickly yet gently, ensuring her comfort as he pulled the blanket snugly over her lap.

"Let me check your fever," he murmured, more to himself than to her, his palm gently pressing against her forehead. The coolness of his touch contrasted with the warmth radiating from her skin. He frowned slightly, seemingly satisfied, yet his worry didn't wane.

"You could have woken me up," Armaan said softly, his voice tinged with concern. Her curious expression didn't faze him. "You should have woken me up, na?" His eyes remained fixed on her, oblivious to anything else.

Abhira watched him as he reached for the blanket again. "Mr. Poddar."

Armaan continued fussing, his words spilling out in a rushed stream. "I know tum strong ho, but har baar it's not necessary to become Wonder Woman, na?"

"Mr. Poddar," Abhira called again, a little louder this time, but he was too preoccupied, now inspecting her hands for any signs of rashes.

"Rashes toh nahi hai... fever bhi..." he muttered, completely absorbed.

"Mr. Poddar." Her tone was firm now, her voice cutting through his rambling.

The name made him freeze mid-motion. His hand hovered for a moment before he slowly pulled back, as if suddenly aware of how close he had been.

"I-uh-sorry," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

His moments were quick and he shifted back to the chair he had occupied earlier.

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, confusion laced in her expression.

"For shouting at you yesterday," he admitted after a long pause. "At the dining table."

"And?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

"And for not letting you explain," he added reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And?" she prompted again, leaning in slightly, her gaze unwavering.

"And..." He hesitated, the moment stretching uncomfortably as his thoughts warred within. His mind replayed the scene-the care in his actions, the unspoken emotions that had surged through him just moments ago. His throat tightened, but his pride wouldn't let him go any further. "And nothing else," he finally mumbled, his voice subdued.

Abhira smiled-a small, fleeting curve of her lips. She wasn't entirely sure why, but something about his awkwardness, his choice to voice an apology for the moment they just shared, made the moment oddly endearing.

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with everything left unsaid.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

"I'm fine," she replied simply. Her gaze softened as she studied his tired face. "Could you call someone? Kaira or Charu?"

"Why?" he frowned, his concern returning. "If you need anything, you can tell me."

"It's not something you can help with," she insisted, her tone firm despite her fatigue.

"Abhira, just tell me," he said again, his voice resolute.

Her frustration bubbled over. "Mr. Poddar, I need help to get ready. You want to help?"

Her words hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, his face turned bright red. "I-uh-right," he stammered, stumbling to his feet. "I'll call Charu."

He moved toward the door, his footsteps faltering just before he stepped out. Turning back, his gaze softened as he looked at her, his concern momentarily overshadowing his awkwardness. "Are you really okay? Like completely fine ?"

She met his eyes and nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "I'm fine."

For a brief second, the tension between them melted into something warmer, something unspoken but understood. Then, he was gone, leaving the door slightly ajar and Abhira staring after him, her heart beating just a little faster.

___________

The Poddar house temple was a sight to behold-nestled in a quiet corner of the mansion, it exuded peace and serenity. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of Radha and Krishna, their forms glowing under the soft light of brass oil lamps. A marble platform stood at the center, holding idols of deities surrounded by fresh flowers and fragrant incense sticks that filled the air with a heady, calming scent. The temple's wooden doors, etched with floral patterns, were wide open, welcoming the family for their morning prayers.

The Poddars had gathered for the daily puja. Vidya stood near the altar, arranging offerings of fruits and sweets, while Manisha lit the diyas with steady hands. Madhav and Manoj stood nearby, and Sanjay stood stiffly at the back, his eyes scanning the room. Rohit and Dadi Sa were at the forefront, standing with a pious air. The chorus gang filled the space with muted chatter, their voices blending with the soft sound of temple bells. Ruhi sat on the steps as she arranged flowers along with Kajal.

Abhira descended the stairs slowly, supported by Charu, who walked beside her like a watchful guardian. Abhira wore a pale pink saree that seemed to enhance her frailty, her steps cautious but determined. Her face carried a quiet strength, though the lingering effects of the fever were evident in her pale complexion.

Armaan appeared moments later, his formal attire a stark contrast to the casual air he usually carried. Having prepared himself in the guest room, he approached the temple with a calm demeanor that masked the worry bubbling inside him. His eyes scanned the gathering until they landed on Abhira, who stood quietly near Charu. His brows furrowed.

He stepped closer, his presence beside her noticeable yet unobtrusive. In a hushed tone, he leaned slightly toward her, his voice a soft murmur. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting."

Abhira glanced at him, her eyes calm but resolute. "And let your grandmother make a scean out of my absence for the morning puja, Mr. Poddar."

"You could, and you should," he countered, his tone laced with concern. "You're still recovering."

"And as if your family doesn't know it," she whispered back, her tone firm but not dismissive. "You know your family better than me, yet u are talking as if today morning will be different."

He let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. "Abhira main..."

"Remember the first time i skipped the aarti cuz i was not well ?" she retorted softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Armaan's body stiffened as her words brought back the memory, sharp and vivid, like a wound that had never fully healed. It had been barely a month into their marriage, and the morning had started like any other-except Abhira hadn't been feeling well. She had a fever, her face pale, her body sluggish. He'd insisted she stay in bed, promising to manage the puja without her.

But the moment Dadi sa noticed her absence, the air had grown heavy with disapproval. Armaan recalled the servants exchanging awkward glances as Dadi sa's sharp voice echoed through the hall, accusing Abhira of negligence. "Newly married and already shirking her duties? What kind of sanskaar is this?" she had said, loud enough for the household staff to hear.

He'd tried to intervene, tried to explain, but Dadi sa's cutting words had left no room for reason. "If she's not fit to fulfill basic responsibilities, how will she handle this family?" The humiliation had been palpable, and though Abhira had stayed quiet in the moment, her lowered gaze and trembling hands had spoken volumes.

Later, when he returned to their room, he'd found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked her frame. "Abhira," he'd murmured gently, approaching her, but she flinched at his voice, turning away.

"Please, Mr. Poddar," she'd whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "I just... I just want to be alone."

He'd tried again, reaching for her hand, but she had pulled away, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart. "I don't need you to fix this," she had said, her words soft but firm. "I'll deal with it on my own."

Even now, the memory of that day-the helplessness he'd felt, the pain in her eyes-made his chest tighten. He hadn't been able to shield her then, and it had stayed with him like a scar.

Charu, standing beside them, gave Armaan a small, knowing smile. "Don't worry, Armaan Bhaiya. She's in safe hands. I'll keep an eye on Bhabhi."

Armaan nodded but didn't seem entirely convinced. His gaze lingered on Abhira, scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. "Abhira.. vo.."

"Ladki," the voice rang out, sharp and clear. Kaveri, with her stern presence, stepped forward from the edge of the group, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between Armaan and Abhira. She had been standing with the rest of the family, but her gaze had been fixed on the two of them.

"What is this? Are we now supposed to teach the elders' son and daughter-in-law how puja is conducted in the Poddar house?" Kaveri's tone was laden with sarcasm, and her sharp eyes flitted between the two. "Instead of fulfilling your responsibilities, you're busy dragging even the kids of the house into your chatter," she added, motioning toward the chorus gang, who stood awkwardly nearby.

Vidya, seizing the moment, chimed in with her own brand of derision. "Kuch seekho Ruhi se," she said, her voice cutting. "She woke up early today and prepared everything for the puja. That's the responsibility of a proper daughter-in-law. Not lounging around."

Armaan's jaw tightened, but he remained composed as he responded, his voice calm yet firm. "Maa, you know Abhira wasn't well yesterday. She was running a high fever."

Manisha stepped forward, her gaze fierce as she added, "Jethani sa, I know you don't care, but Abhira was very unwell last night. It's unfair to compare her to anyone."

Vidya's eyes narrowed as she looked at both Armaan and Manisha. "Fine," she said dismissively, "she was unwell. But what about her responsibilities? Illness is no excuse to abandon them altogether."

Abhira, who had been quietly enduring the jabs, looked at Vidya, disappointment evident in her eyes. Her voice, though steady, carried a note of defiance. "Maa, do you remember what you told me on the very first day after my marriage? You said I wasn't to act as the daughter-in-law of this house because you didn't accept me."

Vidya's face hardened, a sarcastic smile curving her lips, but Abhira didn't back down. "So why now, Maa? Why this sudden concern for my so-called responsibilities? Or is it that you take joy in comparing me to Ruhi, using it as an excuse to taunt me? All I've done is follow the orders you gave me."

Armaan placed a hand on Abhira's arm, his voice a quiet plea. "Abhira, please... Maa hai."

Abhira turned to him, her smile tinged with bitterness. "Yes, she's your mother," she said softly but pointedly, "but that doesn't mean I have to remain silent when I'm being unjustly compared and ridiculed."

Kaveri, never one to let such moments pass, stepped in to defend Vidya. "Ladki," she said sharply, "this is no way to talk to your elders. Manners seem to be something you lack entirely."

Armaan stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Abhira. Folding his hands, he turned to Dadi sa and Vidya, his voice soft but resolute. "Dadi sa, Maa, I seek your forgiveness on behalf of Abhira. I know tempers flared, and words were exchanged that shouldn't have been. But let's not let this escalate further."

Abhira tried to interject, her voice laced with disbelief. "Mr. Poddar, what are you-"

He turned to her, his eyes pleading. "Please, Abhira," he said, cutting her off gently but firmly. "Let's not make this worse. I'm requesting you."

He then addressed the family again, his hands still folded. "I request everyone, please, let's not fight. Let's begin the puja and keep the sanctity of this moment."

Kaveri, however, was unmoved. Her expression turned stern as she narrowed her gaze at Abhira. "Nobody in this house has ever disrespected their elders the way this girl does," she declared sharply. "Ladki, as punishment, leave the hall immediately."

Abhira's eyes flickered with disbelief and a sarcastic smile tugged at her lips. She turned to Armaan, her tone dripping with irony. "Now tell me, Mr. Poddar, what were you saying about me skipping the puja and resting?" Without waiting for a response, she walked away, her steps deliberate, her shoulders squared, unwilling to stay in the room a moment longer.

Armaan instinctively moved to follow her, concern evident in his eyes, but before he could take more than a few steps, Ruhi's voice called out. "Armaan, please stay for the puja."

He stopped mid-step and turned around, his expression neutral but firm. He knew leaving at this moment will only cause the situation to worsen.

"It's Bhaiya for u Ruhi." Manisha corrected her, her tone polite but unmistakably firm.

Ruhi looked at her, her confusion evident. "What?" she asked.

Manisha met her gaze steadily. "Armaan is Rohit's elder brother. In this family, younger ones respect their elders. It would be really appreciate it if you referred to him as Bhaiya, not just by his name."

Before Ruhi could respond, Krish jumped in with his usual mischief. "Haan, Bhabhi sa, Armaan Bhaiya is elder to you. In our house, we always refer to elders with respect."

Aaryan joined in, a playful grin lighting up his face. "Exactly, Bhabhi sa. You can start by calling him Bhaiya. Or, if you prefer, Jhet ji also sounds fine," he added, barely holding back a laugh.

The chorus gang erupted in giggles, and Rohit couldn't resist. "Haan, Ruhi, kal se Bhaiya ko waise hi bula. It'll be hilarious-free entertainment for us!" He high-fived Krish and Aaryan, their laughter filling the room.

Before things could spiral further, Manisha noticed Kaveri's expression and stepped in with a firm but calm voice. "Chalo, let's start the puja," she said, casting a glance around the room, silently urging everyone to focus on the matter at hand.

The room quieted down as the family turned their attention to the temple. But even as the puja began, Armaan's thoughts lingered on Abhira, who had walked away, leaving behind an unspoken tension that hung heavy in the air.

As the murmur in the temple settled, Vidya picked up the silver plate adorned with diyas, flowers, and incense sticks and handed it over to Ruhi. "Ruhi, you do the aarti today," she said, her tone carrying a mix of pride and expectation.

Ruhi hesitated for a moment, but Vidya's subtle nod left no room for refusal. Meanwhile, Kaveri turned to Krish and said, "Krish, play the aarti on the music system."

Krish exchanged a quick look with Aaryan, Charu and Kiara, a silent understanding passing between them. They smirked subtly and nodded in unison. Pretending to check the music system, Krish fidgeted with the buttons and dials before turning to the family with a feigned look of disappointment. "The music system isn't working," he announced.

Kaveri's face fell, her brows furrowing in disapproval. "Why wasn't this checked earlier?" she asked, her tone sharp with frustration.

Before anyone could respond, Kiara interjected cheerfully, "Koi baat nahi, Dadi sa. One of us can sing the aarti."

Charu chimed in with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Since Ruhi Bhabhi is doing the aarti, it's only fitting that she sings."

The family began encouraging Ruhi, their voices filled with anticipation. "Haan, Ruhi. Go ahead and sing," Madhav said.

Manoj added, "It'll be wonderful to hear you sing along with the aarti."

Ruhi, however, looked visibly uncomfortable. She tried to smile but failed to mask her unease. The chorus gang, standing a little apart, exchanged knowing glances. They had heard Ruhi sing during the wedding ceremonies and knew her singing was nothing short of dreadful. On the other hand, they had once heard Abhira sing during the Janmashtami puja in the garden, and her melodious voice had left them spellbound. They had even recorded her song on their phones.

The gang's irritation toward Ruhi grew as they recalled the stunt she had pulled the previous day to hurt Abhira. Though they had never liked Ruhi, Abhira was their undisputed favorite. They had already decided that Ruhi would pay for her actions.

Kaveri, oblivious to the tension, insisted, "Ruhi, go ahead. Sing for the family."

Ruhi plastered a strained smile on her face, took a deep breath, and began to sing. Barely two lines into the aarti, most of the family members winced and instinctively held their ears. Rohit, standing nearby, stepped forward quickly. "Ruhi, Ruhi, bas. Please stop," he said, half-laughing, half-pleading.

He couldn't resist adding a joke. "I think even Lord Krishna would ask us to play the music system instead," he teased lightly, earning a few chuckles from the family. Ruhi's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she fell silent, clearly humiliated.

Sensing the awkwardness, Krish stepped in with mock sympathy. "It's okay, Bhabhi sa. No need to stress. Main apne speaker le aata hoon," he said, dashing out of the room.

Moments later, Krish returned with a portable speaker. As he connected his phone, he smirked and played the recording of Abhira's soulful rendition of the aarti from Janmashtami. The room filled with the serene melody of her voice, and everyone instinctively folded their hands, their earlier discomfort forgotten.

Ruhi stood silently in a corner, fuming as the family did the aarti, lost in the divine ambiance created by Abhira's voice. The chorus gang exchanged satisfied smiles, knowing they had subtly turned the tables on Ruhi without anyone noticing their ploy.

____________

Later that morning, as the house settled after the puja, Armaan quietly slipped away to their room. Abhira was already there, sitting on the study table with her books, scribbling something on the open notpad. Her expression was distant, her posture tense.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, watching her for a moment before speaking. “Abhira…” he began softly, his voice cautious, “what happened in the temple—”

Abhira’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing. “What happened in the temple, Mr. Poddar? Or should I say, what always happens in this house?”

Armaan sighed, walking over to her. “Abhira, please—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. She stood abruptly, putting distance between them. “You stood there and apologized on my behalf. Again. Do you even realize how humiliating that is for me?”

“I wasn’t apologizing for you,” Armaan said, his tone firm but not unkind. “I was trying to keep the peace—”

“By folding your hands and bowing down to people who never miss a chance to insult me?” Her voice cracked, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “Do you know how small that made me feel? How they all just... dismissed me, like I don’t belong here?”

Armaan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “You do belong here, Abhira. You’re my—”

“Your what, Mr. Poddar?” she cut in. “Your wife ?? But doesn’t mean I’m a punching bag for everyone’s taunts and criticisms. It doesn’t mean I have to stay silent while they constantly compare me to Ruhi, while they question my worth, my dignity.”

His shoulders slumped, guilt flickering across his face. “I know it’s not fair. I know they’re harsh. But you have to understand—”

“What do I have to understand?” she shot back, her voice rising. “That this is your family and I have to put up with their insults? That I have to keep proving myself over and over while they praise Ruhi for doing the bare minimum?”

“Abhira, I’m trying,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “I’m trying to protect you, to handle things without making it worse.”

“Protect me? Why am I something that you feel needs to be protected Mr. Poddar?” She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms. “Or is it that you think I can't fight my own battles ”

“That’s not what I meant!” Armaan said, his own frustration finally bubbling over. “I’m trying to balance everything, Abhira. Do you think it’s easy for me? To balance everything.”

Abhira took a step closer, her voice trembling with emotion. “Atleast it is easier than what I am put through everyday? Do you know how it feels to be constantly reminded that I’ll never be enough for them? That no matter what I do, I’ll always be ‘that girl’ who doesn’t deserve to be here?”

He opened his mouth to respond but faltered, the weight of her words sinking in.

“You should leave,” Abhira said, turning her attention back to her books. “It’s already time for breakfast. Please don’t give your family another reason to reprimand me.”

Armaan hesitated for a moment, watching Abhira immerse herself in her books as if dismissing his presence. “You should come downstairs too,” he said softly, trying to keep his tone gentle. 

Abhira didn’t look up. “I’m not in the mood to have breakfast,” she replied curtly, flipping a page that she wasn’t even reading. 

“You can’t skip breakfast like this,” Armaan insisted. “You need to eat, especially if you plan to take your medicines.” 

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Krish and Aryaan walked in, carrying a tray laden with breakfast. Krish grinned, holding the tray up like a prized trophy. “Mummy ne aap dono ke liye bheja hai,” Aryaan announced, his tone cheerful. 

Krish added with a smirk, “Nani sa abhi bhi thodi gussa hai, plus aaj nashta mein Upma bana hai.” He wrinkled his nose. “Aur aap dono ko Upma pasand nahi hai, toh Mami sa ne toast aur coffee bheji hai. Special delivery.” 

Without waiting for a response, both of them quickly placed the tray on the nearby table and darted out of the room, grinning mischievously. “Enjoy, bhaiya aur bhabhi!” Aryaan called over his shoulder before closing the door behind them. 

Armaan sighed, shaking his head at their antics, then picked up a plate from the tray and placed it in front of Abhira on her study table. “Here,” he said firmly, “have something.” 

Abhira glanced at the plate, then back at her books. “I told you, I’m not hungry,” she said, her tone edged with irritation. 

Armaan leaned against the edge of the table, crossing his arms. “Gussa mujhpe hai, toh nashte pe mat nikalo,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on her. 

Abhira turned her face away, stubbornly refusing to engage. 

But Armaan wasn’t giving up. “Abhira, please,” he urged, his voice softening. “Just eat something. It’s not good for you to skip meals.” 

After a tense moment, she finally reached for the plate, her movements reluctant. Armaan took the other plate and sat opposite her, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken emotions. 

They ate in silence, neither meeting the other’s gaze, the quiet only broken by the clinking of utensils. Despite the tension lingering between them, there was an unspoken understanding—one that neither of them had the courage to voice yet.

Abhira glanced at Armaan, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. “Why did Aryaan say you don’t like Upma?” she asked, her voice tentative but genuine. 

Armaan looked up briefly from his plate, then returned his gaze to the toast he was buttering. “Because I don’t,” he said simply. 

Abhira frowned, her brow knitting in confusion. “But you always have it whenever it’s made for breakfast,” she countered. 

This time, Armaan paused, his hand lingering over the plate. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable. “Kyunki Rohit aur Dadi sa ko pasand hai,” he replied, his voice quieter now, almost as though the words carried a weight he couldn’t fully explain. 

Abhira’s gaze stayed on him, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor. His usual calm had been replaced with a hint of unease, his eyes betraying something he wasn’t saying. 

For a moment, she wanted to probe further, to ask why he always put others’ preferences before his own. But seeing the way he busied himself with his plate, as though trying to avoid the conversation, she decided against it. 

They continued to eat, the quiet between them growing heavier, the only sound in the room the faint clink of cutlery. Both were lost in their thoughts, neither breaking the silence that had settled over them.

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

Next update will be the first official happy update of this book cuz it's gangaur time you all.

See u soon (bhout soon actually)

~TheLostSoul