Bebe opened the wooden door of her small house, the wind catching the hem of her shawl as it billowed around her strong frame. Her sharp eyes immediately landed on Maula, standing tall and unwavering, his expression as stoic as ever. But what made her grip the door tighter was the woman beside him—Daro, her face set with a defiant glare, like she expected to be met with nothing but hostility.

"Maula," Bebe greeted him with a nod, her voice stern but warm, though her eyes quickly darted to Daro. "Eh itthe ki kar rahi hai?" Bebe's voice was gruff, laced with suspicion.

Maula chuckled, the sound low and easy, as if he wasn't standing between two women who could barely tolerate each other. "Daro hun tuhadi noo hai, Bebe. Sochia keh le aavan." His grin deepened as he pushed past her, letting himself into the house without waiting for an invitation.

Bebe stepped aside, her frown deepening, but she didn't stop him. Maula, always comfortable in his own skin, wandered into the familiar space as if he'd just dropped by for tea, completely ignoring the tension hanging in the air.

"Tu ennu ghare kaam laa sakde ho," he said casually, glancing around before turning back to them. "Jivein hor noovan nu launde ne."

Bebe raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bebe's gaze flicked to Daro, the weight of her stare enough to make anyone else squirm, but Daro stood firm, her chin held high. She wasn't here to beg for acceptance; Maula had made that clear. Still, the silent challenge between them was unmistakable.

After a long pause, Bebe sighed, gesturing dismissively toward the back of the house. "Theek hai. Par koi khaas khair nahi milni."

Maula winked at Daro, his smile never faltering. "Mere zehan vich aayi vi nahi."

Bebe had just gestured dismissively toward the back of the house when Daro, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, her voice filled with indignation.

"Main koi naukrani nahi haan!" Daro's voice rose, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Daro sardarni hai!"

Maula, who had been leaning casually against the wall, slowly straightened up. His expression shifted, the easy smile disappearing as his eyes darkened. He stepped toward Daro, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was standing inches from her face. The air in the room seemed to grow heavy as he looked down at her, his voice low and controlled, but filled with an unmistakable edge.

"Sardarni?" he said softly, but there was nothing gentle in his tone. "Jede lok tainu maarna chaunde ne, oh vi jaannde ne ke tu sardarni hai."

Daro swallowed, her defiance wavering slightly under the weight of his words, but she held her ground. Maula leaned in closer, his face now inches from hers, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of authority.

"Hun meri gall sun," he said, his eyes locked onto hers. "Tainu ethe rehna pae ga. Taan ke tu sikh sake ke eh izzat kivein mildi hai... te taan ke tu mehfooz reh sake."

His words hung in the air, and for a long moment, Daro was silent. The fire in her eyes dimmed just a little, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. Maula didn't step back until he saw the resistance begin to fade, and even then, his gaze didn't leave hers.

The room was quiet after that, the tension palpable, but there was no more argument. Bebe watched the exchange with an unreadable expression, but she said nothing. Maula had made his decision, and no one dared to challenge it.

After a long, tense silence, Maula's face softened again, the hard lines easing as the fire of confrontation left his eyes. His familiar grin returned, and with a playful shrug, he turned back to Bebe, his voice lightening up once more.

"Bebe, khana bana lo. Daro nu vi kaam laa lo naal," he said, the shift in tone almost jarring after the intensity of his earlier words.

Bebe, arms still crossed, let out a sharp exhale, her eyes rolling as if to say she knew this was coming. But she didn't argue. With a resigned look, she stepped forward and grabbed Daro by the arm, her grip firm as she began pulling her toward the kitchen.

Daro, caught off guard, dragged her feet, her eyes wide with disbelief as she shot an incredulous look at Maula. She couldn't believe what had just happened. One moment he was in her face, reminding her of the danger she was in, and the next, he was tossing her into kitchen duty as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Maula, unbothered, casually strolled outside, stretching his arms above his head as if the matter was settled. He dropped down onto the charpai laid outside, folding his arms behind his head, and reclined back, looking completely at ease. Daro's gaze remained locked on him as she was pulled along by Bebe, her feet dragging but unable to resist.

In the small, dimly lit kitchen, the air was thick with tension as Bebe stood over the counter, her hands firmly gripping a pot while she loudly instructed Daro on how to cook daal.

Daro stood at the counter, hands clenched, her frustration mounting with every word Bebe uttered. She knew how to hold a sword, how to command respect, but here, in this kitchen, she was being reduced to some clumsy novice. Her resentment simmered just beneath the surface.

Bebe barked out instructions, her voice sharp with annoyance as if she'd given this lesson a hundred times before. "Sab toh pehlan tarka! Daal nu ubaalna hai, fer masalay paune ne!"

Daro stood stiffly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, trying to keep her frustration in check. She'd never set foot in a kitchen like this before, let alone been told to do such menial work. Her pride stung with every order, and Bebe's patronizing tone only fueled her irritation.

As Daro hovered over the stove, carefully trying to make the tarka under Bebe's sharp gaze, her hand slipped, and hot oil splattered onto her skin. She gasped, instinctively pulling her hand back, pain shooting through her fingers.

But Bebe didn't flinch. Instead of checking on her, she scoffed in irritation. "Kalli hath vi dhang naal nahi chala sakdi? Eh koi tarika hai kaam karan da?" Her words were laced with disdain, as if Daro had just committed an unforgivable sin.

Daro, stung more by the insult than the burn, clenched her fists. Her pride wouldn't let her stay silent, but instead of snapping back, she channeled her anger into action.

With a rebellious flick of her wrist, she sent a pot toppling over, spilling lentils across the kitchen floor. The metal clang of the pan hitting the ground echoed through the room.

Bebe's eyes flared in anger, and before Daro could even react, she felt the sting of Bebe's palm across her cheek. "Eh ki ki kita tu? she spat, her eyes blazing. Daro staggered, her cheek burning, but she didn't cry out.

"Har ik daana utha, samjhi? Bebe ordered, her voice colder than ever. "Jado tak saaf nahi hoyega, tu etho nahi hillegi."

Daro's jaw clenched, but she had no choice. She dropped to her knees, silently seething as she began to pick up the lentils one by one. The humiliation was suffocating, but she forced herself to keep going, every grain a reminder of how far she'd fallen from her position as a sardarni. She had no energy left to rebel.

When she was done, Bebe resumed cooking, this time with even more impatience. "Tainu dhang naal tarka pauna sikhaavaan fer vi galat kari jaani hai," she muttered under her breath, pushing the pot back toward Daro, who stood by stiffly.

Outside, Maula was lying on the charpai, arms crossed behind his head, enjoying the soft evening breeze. But he could hear the sharp tones of Bebe from the kitchen and Daro's occasional muttering. He turned his head slightly and called out, "Bebe, thoda pyaar naal samjha lao. Pehli vari hai Daro di rasoi vich."

Bebe snorted, turning to shout back at him through the open door, "Pehli vari ya akhri, ehda rasoi vich koi kaam nahi!"

While Bebe was distracted, Daro's eyes flicked toward the spice jar sitting on the counter. A glimmer of mischief returned. Quietly, she grabbed the red pepper powder and, with a quick glance to ensure Bebe wasn't looking, added several extra spoonfuls into the daal, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

She returned to her spot just as Bebe turned back, none the wiser. The kitchen settled back into its routine, but Daro's small act of rebellion hung in the air, a silent victory amid the chaos.

After the daal was simmering on the stove, Bebe turned her attention to making roti. She pointed at the flour and instructed Daro, "Chalo, roti banao. Jadon tak gallein nahi ban jaandi, kuch nahi milneya."

Daro rolled her eyes but dutifully began kneading the dough. However, her frustration with the situation made her careless. The first roti came out misshapen, a lopsided circle that was far from perfect. She placed it on the tawa, but it quickly burned, the smell filling the kitchen.

Bebe, her patience wearing thin, tossed her hands up in exasperation. "Ki karde ho tusi? Aidaan nahi banandi roti!" With a sharp shove, she pushed Daro aside and took over the stove, expertly flipping the next roti onto the hot surface. She ordered Daro to set the table while she took over the cooking. Daro reluctantly complied, feeling a mix of irritation and defiance. She grabbed the metal dishes roughly, tossing them onto the table in the veranda, the sound clanging loudly as the dishes clattered against each other.

Maula, who had been lounging outside, watched the spectacle with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips. He stood up, stretching his arms as he strolled over to the table. With an easy grace, he picked up the dishes Daro had thrown and arranged them neatly on the table then took his seat.

Bebe emerged from the kitchen with a stack of freshly made rotis, her expression triumphant. She took the seat closest to Maula. Daro fumed silently as she sat down on the next chair, feeling the sting of jealousy as she watched Bebe serve Maula.

"Eh, Maula, daal lo," Bebe said cheerfully, ladling a generous portion into Maula's bowl before placing a soft roti beside it.

Maula accepted the food with a grateful smile, but as he took a few bites, his enjoyment quickly turned to discomfort. He started coughing, the spices hitting him harder than expected.

Bebe's eyes widened in panic, and she hurriedly pushed the water bowl toward him. "Pee le, Maula!" she urged, but her gaze quickly turned sharp as she glared at Daro. "Eh kamm karke vi nahi samajhdi! Tainu ki pta, tainu lagda ki eh khana hai?"

Before Daro could defend herself, Bebe raised her hand to smack her, fully convinced that Daro had purposely tried to poison them with her cooking. But Maula, quick to act, grabbed Bebe's wrist before it could land. "Ruk, Bebe!" he said firmly, placing her hand back down on the table.

"Main aaj da khana khavan waala haan," Maula announced, trying to ease the tension in the air. He looked at Daro, his expression softening just a bit. "Par agle vaari, do chamach mirch kum pao."

Daro blinked at him, unsure whether to feel relieved or more annoyed; the fire in her eyes still simmering but doused slightly by Maula's willingness to stand up for her. Bebe huffed beside him, still flustered, but the moment had passed, and the evening continued, filled with the lingering spice and unspoken rivalry between the women at the table.

Bebe returned from the kitchen with a bowl of yogurt, ready to enhance the meal. As she settled back into her seat, she eyed the burnt rotis on the table. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the charred bread onto Daro's plate, her expression one of disdain.

"Teri rotian tu hin kha!"

Daro stared at the burnt rotis, feeling her irritation rise again, but before she could respond, Maula reached over, picked up her plate, and swapped the burnt rotis for the fresh ones on his own plate.

Bebe looked at him incredulously, her jaw dropping slightly. "Ki kar raha hai tusi?" she exclaimed.

Daro's eyes sparkled with amusement, a smile breaking through her earlier frustration. Maula met her gaze and winked, enjoying the moment.

"Tussi donwa nu hun ikathe rehna hai," he said, his tone serious as he glanced between the two women. "Islay donaan nu ek doosre naal changa pesh auna chahida hai, nahi ta ghar jahannam ban jaega."

Bebe's face hardened at the reminder. "Main ehdi jaan lena chahundi haan, jiven ehde bhai ne mere puttar nu maara," she said, her voice low and fierce.

Maula sighed, shaking his head. "Bebe, tusi maa ho. Daro nu ik maa di tarah sikhaao. Usne kabhi maa nahi dekhi," he reminded her, his voice calm but firm. "Islay Daro bahut ziddi hai, apne baap te bhaian di tarah rani jiven."

Daro sat in stunned silence, the weight of his words sinking in. No one had ever shown her that kind of understanding before. The acknowledgment of her lack of maternal guidance made her heart swell unexpectedly. She glanced at Maula, her expression softening, and for the first time that evening, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better between her and Bebe.

Bebe looked momentarily taken aback by Maula's words, but as she processed them, her resolve began to waver. Perhaps she could see Daro not just as an enemy but as someone who needed her guidance. The tension at the table softened, if only for a moment, as they all contemplated the new dynamic unfolding before them.