तुम आए तो मेरी ज़िन्दगी में बहार आ गई,
हर एक पल में मोहब्बत की ख़ुशबू छा गई।
तेरे साथ जीने की तमन्ना है अब,
तेरी मुस्कान से मेरी दुनिया रोशन हो गई।

◇

Author Pov

Avyansh stared at his phone, typing out a message with his usual straightforwardness.

" I will pick you up tomorrow after coming back from the office."

He hesitated for a moment, then hit send. He hoped it didn't come off as too impersonal, but knowing Avantika, she would appreciate the directness.

After sending the message, he placed his phone on the nightstand and tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to her.

Avantika saw the message notification pop up on her phone. She read it but didn't reply.

Her emotions were too tangled for a simple response, and she wasn't sure what to say.

Instead, she let the phone slip from her hand and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of her family and Avyansh's impending arrival.

Next Morning

The sky was still dark, and the air was cool when Avantika woke up at 4:30 AM. She had barely slept, her mind restless with anticipation and anxiety. She quietly got out of bed.

After freshening up,She dressed in her usual comfortable attire-a simple pair of leggings and a loose top. she grabbed her yoga mat and headed to the balcony.

The early morning silence enveloped her as she unrolled the mat on the cool tiles. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs.

The world outside was still asleep, and for a moment, she felt a sense of peace.

Avantika began her yoga routine, moving through the poses with practiced ease. Her body flowed from one asana to another, but her mind remained cluttered.

She couldn't shake off the unease she felt about returning with Avyansh.

Her family had been civil, even pleasant, but it all felt like a façade. The tension in the air was palpable, and she knew it would only worsen if she stayed longer.

As she transitioned into the final pose, Savasana, she lay flat on her back, staring up at the faint lightening of the sky. Her thoughts wandered to Avyansh.

He was an enigma-cold, distant, but also strangely considerate. His message from last night echoed in her mind.

"I will pick you up tomorrow after coming back from the office."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement, almost as if he knew she needed an escape, even if she hadn't asked for it.

She wondered what he truly felt, if he even cared, or if he was just fulfilling an obligation.

The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she pushed the thoughts aside. She needed to be strong, composed.

As the sky turned from dark blue to soft pink, she finished her yoga routine and rolled up the mat.

She stood by the balcony railing, watching the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon. It was a new day, a new beginning, but the weight of yesterday still clung to her.

She sighed and walked back into the room, her steps light but her heart heavy. She had a few hours before Avyansh would come to pick her up.

Until then, she would try to find some semblance of calm, preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation with her own emotions.

It was still early, but the house was beginning to stir.

Avantika made her way to the dining area, where her family was already gathered, a bit surprised at the early hour. Her father sat at the head of the table, reading the morning newspaper, while her mother was busy giving instructions to the house help.

Her uncle and aunt were chatting quietly, their voices low, and Samarth, her brother, was scrolling through his phone, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Avantika hesitated at the doorway for a moment, then steeled herself and walked in. She took a seat at the far end of the table, away from her parents.

The air felt thick with unspoken words, and she could feel the tension in the room.

Her mother glanced at her briefly, then looked away, her expression neutral. "Good morning," she said, her tone lacking warmth.

"Morning," Avantika replied, her voice equally flat. She picked up a piece of toast from the basket and nibbled on it, not really hungry but needing something to do with her hands.

The silence was awkward, broken only by the clinking of cutlery and the occasional rustle of the newspaper.

She could feel her mother's eyes on her, watching, judging, but she ignored it, focusing on the plate in front of her.

Samarth, sensing the tension, tried to change the topic. "So, sis, kaise hai waha sb? Are they treating you well?"

Before Avantika could respond, her aunt spoke up, "Woh sab toh waha ache he honge... jab tak unhe iski asliyat nahi pata chal jati..."

Her aunt's taunt hit a nerve. Avantika's eyes darkened, and she could feel her anger rising.

"What do you mean by asliyat, Chachi?" Samarth interjected, gritting his teeth.

"Chup karo, Samarth. Don't you dare show your anger towards my mother," his cousin shot back.

"Oh, please! You're not going to teach me!" Samarth retorted.

"She was the one who interrupted us while my sister and I were talking."

"Hayye raam, dekho toh, bhabhi! Aapka ladla kaise baat kar rahe hain mujhse!" Her aunt exclaimed, gasping in mock shock.

"Samarth, behave yourself," their mother scolded.

"Batemeezi yeh kar rahe hain, aur khud ko behave mai karu?" Samarth retorted, frustrated.

"Sab is ladki ke wajah se hua hai. Issi ke karan yeh itne batsulukti karna sikh gyw hai," her aunt taunted, casting a sharp glance at Avantika.

Avantika stood up abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor behind her. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as they sensed the impending explosion.

"Enough!" Avantika's voice was firm, her gaze unwavering.

"I'm tired of this constant disrespect and taunting. If you have something to say, say it directly, but stop hiding behind these veiled insults."

Her father, who had been silent until now, set down his newspaper and looked at her sternly.

"Avantika, watch your tone. You are not in your in-laws' house now; you are here, in your home. Show some respect."

"Respect? Is that what you call this constant barrage of criticism and judgment?"

Avantika shot back, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I've tried to keep quiet, to not make things worse, bas 1 din ke liye aaye the usmein bhi inhe apna asli roop dikhana zaroori hai kya ?."

Her uncle interject, "Tameez se baat karo Avantika!She's just concern about your behavior"

"Huh??," Avantika interrupted, her voice cold.

"Don't pretend like this is concern. This is control, disguised as care. You all think you know what's best for me, but you don't even know me."

Samarth, who had been watching the exchange with a clenched jaw, finally spoke up, "Didi is right. Aap log unhe chain se jeene kyu nhi dete?."

"Samarth, you stay out of this," their father warned, his voice low and menacing.

"No, I won't," Samarth shot back, defiant. "I'm tired of all this pretending. This isn't a family; it's a battleground."

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths and long-held resentments. Avantika's mother looked away, her face a mask of controlled emotion.

Her aunt's expression was smug, as if she had achieved some small victory.

Avantika took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. she turned and left the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest.

As Avantika left the dining room, Samarth stood up from his seat, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

His father's stern voice cut through the tense silence, "Just sit quietly, Samarth. I am warning you!"

Samarth turned to face him, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Why?" he demanded, his voice rising with frustration.

"Why do you always try to do this to her? She's your own daughter, goddammit!"

His father's face darkened with anger. "Watch your tone, boy. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Samarth shook his head, exasperated.
"I'm younger than her, but even I can see how wrong this is. You all treat her like she's some kind of burden, like she's never good enough. Why can't you just let her be happy?"

His mother interjected, her voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

"Samarth, it's not that simple. We have certain expectations and responsibilities as a family. We want the best for her."

"Expectations?" Samarth scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You mean controlling her every move, making her feel like she has to earn your approval? That's not love; that's suffocation."

His aunt, who had been watching the exchange with a smug expression, chimed in, "You don't understand the complexities of life, Samarth. You're too young and naive."

Samarth's eyes flashed with anger. "No, I understand perfectly. You all are just afraid of losing control, afraid that she'll make choices you don't agree with. But you know what? She's an adult, and she deserves to live her life the way she wants."

His father slammed his hand on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to rattle.

"Enough! I've had enough of your insolence. This is a family matter, and you'll respect your elders."

Samarth took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. "Respect? Respect is earned, not demanded. And right now, all I see is a bunch of people who are more concerned with appearances than with the actual well-being of their daughter ."

The room fell silent, the weight of Samarth's words hanging in the air.

His father glared at him, his face flushed with anger, while his mother looked away, tears welling in her eyes.

His aunt seemed taken aback, her usual composure momentarily shattered.

Samarth took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He said quietly but firmly. "I can't stand to be in this toxic environment any longer. Maybe when you all realize that your so-called 'love' is driving your children away, things will change. But until then, I'm done. Thanks for the wonderful morning and breakfast!"

Without waiting for a response, Samarth turned and walked out of the room, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and sadness.

Meanwhile Avyansh sat in his office, meticulously going through a stack of files.

The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the polished surfaces of the modern office.

His desk was immaculate, a testament to his organized nature. Despite the busy schedule, his thoughts kept drifting to Avantika.

Mr. Patel, his efficient and ever-present secretary, stood nearby, holding a tablet and waiting for Avyansh's instructions.

He watched his boss with a mixture of respect and curiosity, noting the slight furrow in Avyansh's brow as he read the document in front of him.

After a moment, Avyansh closed the file with a sigh and looked up. "Mr. Patel, what's the status on the Sharma project?" he asked, his tone all business.

Mr. Patel quickly responded, "The team has submitted the initial designs, and they're awaiting your review. Also, the meeting with the board is scheduled for 2 PM. Shall I prepare the conference room and the presentation materials?"

Avyansh nodded, his mind still partly elsewhere. "Yes, please do. And make sure all the necessary documents are ready. We can't afford any delays."

As Mr. Patel noted down the instructions, he hesitated for a moment, then added, "Sir, if I may... you seem a bit distracted today. Is everything alright?"

Avyansh looked up, slightly taken aback by the question. He wasn't used to discussing personal matters at work, especially with his staff.

But Mr. Patel had been with him for years, proving himself to be a loyal and discreet employee.

"Just... a lot on my mind," Avyansh admitted, his voice softer than usual. He glanced at his watch.

It was already 11 AM. He still had a few hours before he could leave to pick up Avantika.

The thought of seeing her again stirred something in him, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

Mr. Patel, sensing the shift in his boss's mood, offered a polite smile. "Understood, sir. If there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Hm..," Avyansh replied, appreciating the gesture. He picked up another file and resumed his work, but his thoughts continued to wander.

He wondered how Avantika was feeling, whether she was anxious about returning, and what kind of mood she'd be in.

As he immersed himself in work, Avyansh tried to focus, yet he couldn't shake off the lingering anticipation of the evening.

The prospect of seeing Avantika, of having her back in their home, made the day feel both longer and more urgent. He was eager to see her, to understand her better, even if he couldn't fully express it.

He turned his attention back to the file, but his mind kept drifting. He thought about Avantika at her parents' house, wondering how she was coping.

It wasn't like him to worry about someone else's emotions, yet here he was, quietly concerned about her well-being. He couldn't quite place what he felt-perhaps a mix of curiosity and a desire to understand the enigma that was his wife.

Avyansh leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

He rarely allowed himself such moments of introspection, preferring the clarity of work to the murkiness of emotions.

Yet, the thought of Avantika returning that evening lingered in his mind. He was unsure of how to approach her, how to breach the wall that seemed to stand between them.

He knew he came off as cold and distant, but that was his nature-a defense mechanism he had honed over the years.

He pulled out his phone and glanced at the message he had sent earlier. Still no reply. A part of him was tempted to send another message, but he refrained.

He didn't want to appear too eager or concerned. Instead, he placed the phone back on the desk and refocused on the work at hand, pushing aside the unfamiliar twinge of anticipation.

As the day wore on, Avyansh remained as composed and efficient as ever, but beneath the surface, there was a subtle current of emotion. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there-a quiet longing for something he couldn't yet define.

Timeskip

The rain began to fall as Avyansh's car approached Avantika's house.

The sky had darkened, and the droplets hammered against the windshield, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound.

Avyansh, ever the epitome of composure, remained focused on the road despite the worsening weather.

He had not anticipated the rain and did not have an umbrella or a coat with him. As the car came to a stop, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the task ahead.

He stepped out of the car, and the rain poured down mercilessly, drenching him almost instantly.

His white shirt clung to his body, the fabric translucent and plastered against his skin. Despite the discomfort, he kept his demeanor controlled and unruffled as he made his way to the front door.

As he approached, the door swung open to reveal Samarth, Avantika's younger brother, who greeted him with an enthusiastic smile.

"Jiju!" Samarth exclaimed, his face lighting up with genuine happiness. "Aap aa gaye!"

Avyansh offered a small, polite smile despite his soggy state.

"Come in, come in!" Samarth ushered him inside. "You're soaking wet. Let me get you a towel."

Avyansh stepped into the house, the warmth inside providing a stark contrast to the cold rain.

The family was gathered in the hallway, and they greeted him with varying degrees of formality and warmth.

"Welcome Beta," Avantika's mother said, her voice welcoming but laced with an underlying tension.

"Thanku," Avyansh replied, nodding respectfully and touching her leg. "I'm sorry for arriving in such a state."

Her father, standing nearby, merely acknowledged him with a curt nod. The strained atmosphere was palpable, but Avyansh chose to ignore it as he focused on his purpose here.

"Samarth, could you please call Avantika?" Viransha requested, trying to keep her tone even despite the growing discomfort.

"Hm..," Samarth responded, heading towards the stairs.

Avantika, meanwhile, was sitting in her grandfather's room, her hand gently resting on his.

She had fallen asleep in the chair beside his bed, exhausted from the emotional and physical toll of the past days.

The sound of Samarth's voice jolted her awake. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and stood up, stretching slightly as she made her way to the living room.

As she entered, she saw Avyansh standing by the entrance, looking as composed as he could despite being drenched. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

Avantika's POV

I looked at him, standing in the doorway, drenched from head to toe. His white shirt clung to his body, outlining his muscular frame.

My heart skipped a beat, though I wasn't sure if it was from concern or something else entirely.

Before I could say anything, my mother's voice cut through the moment.

"Avantika, take Avyansh to your room," she instructed, her tone clipped but polite.

"I'll send a maid with some dry clothes. We don't want our son-in-law catch a cold."

"Hm.." I responded, trying to keep my voice steady.

As we turned to head upstairs, my aunt chimed in, her voice dripping with faux concern.

"Tabyat na khrab ho jaye Daamad ji ki," she remarked, casting a glance at Avyansh.

Her words, though seemingly caring, felt like yet another veiled comment, a reminder of the expectations and judgments lurking beneath every surface in this house.

I led Avyansh to my room in silence, feeling the weight of unspoken words between us.

As we walked down the hall, I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

Was he uncomfortable being here? Did he feel the tension as acutely as I did? My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of curiosity, unease, and a strange, inexplicable comfort in his presence.

We reached my room, and I opened the door, stepping aside to let him in.

The room was familiar yet foreign, a place that once felt like mine but now seemed distant.

As he entered, I noticed the faint scent of rain and his cologne mixing in the air, a surprisingly comforting aroma.

"I'll get you a towel," I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. I moved towards the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him.

Our hands brushed slightly, a brief contact that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. He took the towel, wiping the rain from his face and hair.

We stood there for a moment, neither of us knowing quite what to say. The tension from downstairs lingered, but so did an odd sense of understanding.

It was as if we were both trying to navigate through this tangled mess, searching for a way to communicate without words.

"I'll, um, change as soon as the maid brings the clothes," he finally said, breaking the silence.

I nodded, unsure of what else to say. The room felt too small, the air too thick.

I moved towards the window, staring out at the rain-soaked world beyond. The sound of the rain, once soothing, now felt like a reminder of the storm brewing inside me.

"Why did you come?" I blurted out, turning to face him. The question had been nagging at me, and I couldn't hold it back any longer. "You could've just sent someone to pick me up."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might not answer. But then he spoke, his voice measured and calm.

"I wanted to," he replied simply.

His words caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless. It was such a straightforward, honest answer, yet it carried so much weight.

Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. The maid entered, carrying a neatly folded set of clothes.

"Ma'am, these are for sir," she said, placing them on the chair.

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The maid nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Avyansh picked up the fresh towel and headed towards the bathroom. "I'll change quickly," he said, disappearing behind the door.

After Avyansh went back to the bathroom, I took a moment to collect myself.

As Avyansh disappeared into the bathroom, I noticed that he had left the dry clothes on the chair. He had only taken the towel with him, seemingly in a hurry.

I sighed, shaking my head slightly at his absent-mindedness. My eyes wandered around the room, and I realized how disorganized it looked-things scattered about, a reflection of my chaotic thoughts.

I decided to tidy up a bit, hoping it would help clear my mind. I picked up some clothes from the floor, straightened the pillows, and rearranged a few items on the dresser.

As I moved around, I couldn't shake the lingering tension from our brief conversation. His unexpected sincerity had thrown me off, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I cared to admit.

As I reached for a book on the edge of the bed, I felt a sudden tug at the edge of the blanket. It was caught under the leg of a chair.

I gave it a gentle pull, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated, I leaned down to untangle it, but in my haste, I lost my balance.

My foot slipped on the smooth surface of the floor, and I felt myself falling forward.

Before I could hit the ground, strong hands caught me by the waist, pulling me back. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

He stood before me, still damp from the rain, his hair tousled and water droplets glistening on his skin.

He was wrapped only in the towel, his bare chest inches away from me. His arms were around my waist, holding me steady, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Our eyes met, and I saw something in his gaze-a mix of concern, surprise, and something else I couldn't quite place.

My heart raced, and I could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of my kurti.

His grip on my waist was firm yet gentle, and the proximity between us sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and steady, breaking the silence. His eyes searched mine, and I felt an unexpected rush of emotion.

"Y-Yes," I stammered, still caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the moment. "I'm fine, thanks."

Neither of us moved, as if frozen in place by the unexpected closeness. I was acutely aware of every point of contact-his hands on my waist, the slight pressure of his fingers, the coolness of his towel against my arm.

My gaze flickered to his lips for a brief second before I looked away, feeling heat creep up my cheeks.

He seemed to notice, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

There was a softness in his eyes that I hadn't seen before, a crack in the cold facade he usually wore.

It was as if, for that brief moment, we both let our guards down, allowing a glimpse of something deeper, something real.

He slowly released his hold on me, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

I steadied myself, trying to regain my composure. He stepped back, and I felt a strange pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch.

"Sorry about that," he said, his voice a touch warmer than usual.

"It's fine," I replied, offering a small, nervous smile. "Thank you for catching me."

He nodded, still holding my gaze. The air between us felt charged, filled with unspoken words and a tension that neither of us knew how to address.

He ran a hand through his wet hair, seemingly at a loss for what to say next.

"I'll go get dressed," he finally said, glancing at the clothes on the chair.

"Right," I murmured, stepping aside to give him space. He picked up the clothes and headed back towards the bathroom.

I stood in the middle of the room, still feeling the ghost of his touch on my skin. My heart was pounding, and my mind raced with a hundred different thoughts.

I had no idea what had just happened, but I couldn't deny the spark that had ignited between us.

As I tried to calm myself, I realized that, despite everything, I felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn't so alone after all.

The house was still bustling with the sounds of my family, and the heavy rain outside continued to drum against the windows, creating a cozy, yet tense atmosphere.

I decided to escape to the kitchen for a moment, needing some space to calm down after the unexpected encounter.

As I busied myself making tea and arranging a tray of snacks, I overheard my father speaking in the living room.

"The rain doesn't seem to be letting up," he said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. "It's already quite late, and the roads might be dangerous. Why don't you both stay the night? We have plenty of room."

I felt a wave of unease wash over me. Staying the night wasn't part of the plan, and the idea of being under the same roof with my family for longer than necessary was... unsettling.

But I knew my father's suggestion was practical. The weather was terrible, and traveling in such conditions could be risky.

I took a deep breath and carried the tray into the living room. The room was warm, filled with the soft glow of lamps and the murmurs of conversation.

My father, mother, uncle, and aunt were seated, and Avyansh had joined them, now dressed in a pair of Polo shirt and trousers.

He looked comfortable, yet there was an air of formality about him, a subtle reminder of the distance between us.

I approached the group, my expression neutral. I handed out the cups of tea and placed the snacks on the coffee table. As I offered a cup to Avyansh, I began to speak, "Avyansh-"

Before I could finish, my aunt interjected with a disapproving tone.

"Aree Avantika beta, apne pati ko naam se thodi bulate hain." Her voice was laced with a smug satisfaction, as if she'd caught me in some social faux pas.

I felt a flicker of irritation and looked at her with a cold stare. It was moments like these that reminded me why I felt so suffocated here-always being judged, corrected, reminded of my place.

Before I could respond, Avyansh spoke up, his voice calm but with an edge of authority.

"It's okay. My wife can call me whatever name she wants." He looked at my aunt, then at me, his expression unreadable but firm.

His words took me by surprise, and I felt a strange mix of emotions. There was a subtle defiance in his tone, a clear message that he wouldn't tolerate any interference.

For a brief moment, I felt a spark of something like gratitude. It was a small gesture, but in this house, it felt significant.

The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken tension. My aunt pursed her lips, clearly displeased but unable to argue. My father cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yes, well, let's enjoy the tea and snacks," he said, trying to diffuse the situation.

I nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, my hands wrapped around my cup of tea. I glanced at him, who had settled into a chair across from me.

Our eyes met briefly, and I saw a flicker of something in his gaze-understanding, perhaps? It was hard to tell.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I remained quiet, my thoughts elsewhere.

The rain continued to pour outside, and I couldn't shake the feeling that, despite the circumstances, tonight might reveal more than either of us had anticipated.

Avantika's POV Ended

Avyansh's POV

After a few minutes of discussing mundane things with Avantika's family and catching up with Samarth, I made my way back to the room.

Dinner had been a subdued affair, marked by the tension that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy fog.

As I entered the room, I saw Avantika focused on packing her suitcase.

The sight of her folding clothes with methodical precision was oddly calming, though the underlying tension remained palpable.

My gaze drifted around the room, and then settled on her guitar leaning against the wall. The elegant instrument caught my attention, and without thinking, I walked over and picked it up.

Holding the guitar, I couldn't resist teasing her. "Apko bajana aata bhi hai ya sirf show off ke liye?" The question slipped out, a mix of curiosity and mischief guiding my words.

Avantika looked up from her packing, her eyes narrowing at my comment.

The expression on her face was a mix of irritation and surprise.

"Aata hai mujhe," she replied curtly, her attention quickly returning to her suitcase as she continued to pack her books.

I felt a momentary pang of curiosity. "Can you play it for me some day?" I asked, genuinely interested.

Her response was immediate and blunt. "No."

"Kyun?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued.

She merely shrugged her shoulders, not offering any further explanation. Her nonchalance intrigued me.

I held the guitar carefully and reached for the pick lying beside it. "Toot jayega wo usse rakh dijiye," she said, her tone a mixture of resignation and practicality.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to understand her reluctance. "I'll buy you another one," I offered, not seeing the harm in replacing something if it broke.

"Mujhe nahi chahiye new," she said, her voice firm. "Aapko bajana nahi aata toh rakh dijiye na."

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