"Tujhe chaahne ki meri aarzoo kabhi na thamegi,

Ye ishq hai saaf aur sadaa tere naam se rahegi."

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Avantika Pov

I looked at them, trying to keep my expression blank. My so-called family, standing here like they cared. My mother’s eyes were red, and she was sobbing, while Chachi was hiccupping, wiping tears that felt anything but genuine. I scoffed inwardly—what kind of people are they?

Samarth had called a day earlier, genuinely worried, but he couldn’t come because of his exams. I understood that. And Dadu? He didn’t even know what had happened. No one had thought to tell him; they’d probably thought it would be too much trouble.

I sighed, listening as my aunt spoke up, her voice trembling with a forced surprise. "Hume toh pata hi nahi tha ki itna kuch ho gaya hai." The words felt hollow, insincere, as if she’d rehearsed them.

For a moment, I wanted to ask them why they were even here. To put on a show? To ease their guilt? But I just kept silent, letting them play their roles as though I were some passive audience member in a drama I didn’t even want to be a part of.

Pakhi Maa and Choti Maa were doing their best to console them, though even they looked a little weary of the theatrics. Dadi Maa was seated beside me, her hand warm and reassuring on mine. Devika and Dev were away at college, missing the spectacle unfolding in front of me.

Just then, Dadi leaned in and whispered, "Yeh log overacting nahi kar rahe?"

I looked at her, my eyes widening in surprise, and a tiny smile threatened to break through my serious expression.

"Aree beta, maine sab kuch dekha hai aisa. Don’t worry, I know the difference between real concern and this tamasha," she added, her tone laced with humor.

I couldn’t help but nod, my heart feeling lighter with her words.

"Bas hogya!" Dadi Maa suddenly announced, her voice firm and cutting through the fake sobs. My eyes widened, and I nearly choked trying to hold back a laugh.

Both my mother and chachi immediately stopped crying, caught off guard. Choti Maa muffled a silent laugh, quickly covering her mouth. Pakhi Maa glanced at us, hiding a small smile as well.

"Mera matlab hai, ab Avantika ko rest karna chahiye, nahi?" Dadi Maa continued smoothly. "Tum log ab neeche jao, baat chit karo. Bechari Avantika ko rest ki zaroorat hai," she said, sending me a comforting glance.

Then, as she turned toward me, she whispered softly, "Cough!"

"Huh?" I blinked, confused.

"Cough, beta—acting!" she urged quickly, her expression playful.

Taking the cue, I started coughing—or rather, fake coughing—trying my best to look exhausted. Dadi Maa rubbed my shoulder soothingly, and the others nodded, looking at me with concern.

"Chaliye, Avantika ko rest karne dete hain hum niche chal kr baat krte hai." Pakhi Maa said, guiding my mother and chachi out of the room with a gentle but firm hand.

As the door closed behind them, I looked at Dadi Maa and couldn’t hold back a smile. She winked at me, chuckling softly, making me feel seen and understood in a way only she could manage.

Timeskip

I sighed, my head still spinning from the visit. Just as I settled back, my phone buzzed, cutting through the silence.

"Hello?" I asked, trying to sound neutral.

"I'm sending you the notes. Since you're just resting, better copy them into your notebook," a deep voice replied on the other end. I recognized it immediately.

Akshat.

How could I not, when we used to talk nearly every day?

"Akshat?" I asked, a hint of surprise slipping into my tone.

"Hm?" He sounded as calm as ever. "Do you need anything else?"

I rolled my eyes, feeling a wave of irritation rise. "I don’t need anything from you, Akshat," I replied, my voice colder than I'd intended. "Just focus on your own work and don't act like you're doing me any favors."

"I’m not doing you any favor Miss Pepper." he replied, his tone annoyingly calm, with that subtle hint of a smirk I could almost see.

"While you were absent, the professor assigned me as your partner. We were the last ones left, after all, and it’s part of our assignment. You can check the details in the message I sent."

I clenched my jaw, feeling the urge to snap back, but instead, I cut him off and hung up without another word.

I was about to put my phone down when I noticed a missed call from Avyansh ji. My heart raced as I quickly dialed back, but he picked up almost immediately, his voice harsh and cold.

"Don't fucking call me again!" he snapped, his words slicing through the silence.

The line went dead as he hung up, leaving me stunned. My heart felt like it had dropped into a void. What had I done wrong? Was it because I hadn't answered his call earlier? Or maybe... maybe he was just tired of having to look after me.

Maybe all of this—the check-ins, the added responsibilities, the hospital visits—was weighing on him, irritating him.

I took a shaky breath. Had I somehow become a burden to him? I replayed every small interaction, every tiny moment in my mind, searching for something I might have done wrong, some way I might have made him feel obligated to stay by my side.

Did he resent me for needing him? Or was it my fault for letting myself rely on him even a little?

I couldn't help the spiral of thoughts. Every time I thought I was getting better, it felt like something pulled me back, reminding me of every flaw, every reason people pushed me away.

My phone rang again, and I looked down to see his name flashing on the screen. Anger bubbled up inside me. How could he talk to me like that and then just call again like nothing happened?

I picked up, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but before I could say anything, his voice came through, softer and almost apologetic.

"I’m sorry, Mishti Doi. Actually, I was busy, and an ex-client kept calling me from different numbers. I just wanted to check up on you earlier, but when you called back, I assumed it was him again." He paused, sounding genuinely regretful. "Please forgive me if I upset you."

His words left me silent for a moment, my anger melting into something else. He'd actually taken the time to apologize—to explain himself, even. I wasn’t used to this, and the sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.

"Kahiye," I said, my voice colder than I intended, keeping my emotions in check.

He didn’t respond immediately, as if waiting for me to say more, but instead he asked, "Kya kr rhe the aap?"

I didn’t want to get into it, so I kept it brief. "Kuch nahi, bas kuch college ka kaam karne ja rahe the."

There was a pause on the other end, then he spoke again, his tone almost curious. "Apke family se sab aaye hain. Maa ne bataya hume."

"Ji," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral, though a part of me resented how they were now acting concerned after everything.

"Did you take your medicine?" he asked, his voice soft, but there was a concern in it.

"Ji," I replied, my tone calm.

"Are you busy?" he asked again, almost as if checking if it was a good time to talk.

"Ji," I replied once more, but then I paused. I had almost said "hm," but instead, I repeated "ji" by mistake.

He chuckled lightly, though his voice sounded a little strained. "Aap 'ji' ke always kuch bolte bhi hai?"

" Kya kaha aapne? Phirse boliye," I said, trying to cover my awkwardness, not fully understanding what he meant.

He was silent for a second before responding, "Nahi, kuch nahi..." His voice had an odd tone, as if the words didn’t quite reach me properly due to some network issue.

I didn’t know what he meant, but his tone made me curious.

"Ok, then I will hang up the call," he said, his tone a little distant.

"Hm," I replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Do you want me to pick anything from the market? Anything you need?" he asked, his voice softer now, a hint of concern lingering.

"Nahi, I will ask Dev or someone else. You don't need to worry," I said, my voice cold. I couldn't help it—was I being too rude? I wasn't sure.

"Fine," he said, his tone now clipped, before hanging up.

I stared at my phone for a moment, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Had I pushed him away too much? Or was he just frustrated with me?

I had been engrossed in my book—a romance novel, something to escape into.

Devika had just left after sitting with me for the past two hours, and a conversation with my psychiatrist from earlier echoed in my mind; he suggested I meet with him soon.

Suddenly, the door opened, and I looked up, startled. I quickly tried to stand, forgetting the fresh wound from the surgery to remove the bullet.

“Aauchh,” I winced in pain.

He immediately rushed over, concern flashing across his face as he gently helped me back down onto the bed. "Who told you to stand up like that, huh?" His voice was gentle, though tinged with worry as he guided me carefully.

I settled back, embarrassed but grateful. His touch was cautious, as if he feared causing me more pain, and I couldn’t ignore the warmth in his eyes as he looked at me.

He looked at me with a hint of frustration. Why was he upset? I hadn't done anything wrong... had I?

"Should I call Dev or someone else to help you?" he asked, his tone calm yet laced with a subtle anger.

"Huh?" I blinked, confused.

"If you're in pain again, should I call someone else?" he repeated. "Or maybe I should just leave the room?"

"Kya keh rhe hai aap?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my chest, unsure where this was coming from.

He sighed, muttering, "Kuch nhi," before turning away. He grabbed his clothes and headed to freshen up, leaving me wondering if I'd done something to upset him or if it was something else altogether.

Avyansh's POV

The hot water poured over me, slowly easing the tension from my muscles. I closed my eyes, letting the steam settle around me, and muttered under my breath, “Oh, fuck…”

The ache in my body was nothing compared to the dull, relentless throbbing in my mind. Every muscle felt tight, stretched from hours of worry, tension, and...something else I didn’t want to admit.

Why did she keep asking Dev or anyone else in the family for help but never me? Was I making her that uncomfortable? I shook my head, but the thought lingered, clawing at me. I knew I shouldn’t care so much about it—shouldn't even let it bother me.

But damn, it hurt every time she accepted someone else's help and left me standing there, like some stranger.

I’d married her, for God’s sake. I was supposed to be the one she leaned on, the one she trusted. Yet, it felt like I was on the outside, looking in. Was I some kind of outsider to her, too? Just a name, a title, and nothing more?

The thought made me clench my jaw, my frustration flaring again.

My inner voice sneered at me, cutting through the steam-filled silence. How can you expect her to rely on you when you were the one who told her to stay within her limits? The one who said this marriage meant nothing?

I shut my eyes, pressing my palms against the cool tile wall, letting the words sink in. Goddammit, I thought, trying to push it away, but it only grew louder.

Fine. I get it, okay? I muttered inwardly, feeling the realization settle heavy in my chest. This marriage… it’s not “nothing” anymore. It’s everything. She’s everything.

For the first time, I admitted it, even if just to myself. This wasn’t about some arrangement, or obligations, or appearances. I wanted her to lean on me. I wanted to be her first call, her comfort, her...everything.

I walked over to her, letting the towel rest around my neck as she glanced up, her eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I felt my breath hitch—their depth, the warmth, the quiet resilience. It was like I could see entire galaxies reflected in those eyes, worlds of things left unsaid.

Clearing my throat, I broke the silence. "Should I call for dinner here, or would you prefer to eat downstairs with everyone?"

"Downstairs with everyone," she replied, her voice soft but sure.

I nodded, reaching out instinctively to help her stand. Gently, I took her hand, my other hand supporting her back, careful of her injury. She leaned on me, just enough for balance, and a small, quiet satisfaction settled over me. It was a small step, but she was letting me in, even if just for a moment.

We made our way downstairs for dinner. The atmosphere was lively, filled with chatter and the smell of delicious food. The rich aroma of dal makhani, naan, biryani, and raita filled the room—comforting, familiar.

Everyone was eating, talking, laughing, while I remained mostly quiet, my gaze flicking from face to face. My attention, however, kept returning to her.

She wasn’t exactly part of the conversation, not fully at least. She would occasionally reply, her smile small but genuine, and then go back to pushing her food around the plate. The soft glow of the chandelier caught her features just right, making her look almost ethereal.

I noticed how she kept herself slightly apart, not entirely detached but not fully integrated either. It was like she existed in a world where she didn’t quite belong yet—neither here nor there.

Suddenly, Dev’s phone rang, interrupting the calm murmur of conversation. He quickly hit the mute button, but his face went pink, and his ears turned red. He looked sheepish, embarrassed, as if he were caught in something he shouldn’t have been.

“Excuse me,” he muttered and excused himself from the table, walking briskly out of the room.

I didn’t even need to think about it—I could already tell what was happening. Dev and his... reputation. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I couldn’t help but notice the way he flirted with every woman who crossed his path.

It wasn’t the most ideal behavior, and it did pose a risk to our family’s image. He was young, I understood that, but it still didn’t sit well with me.

I didn’t think it was my place to lecture him, but after the call I received earlier from the head office about him, I knew I had to step in. It was time to have a conversation.

I stood up, my eyes following him for a moment before turning to everyone else. "Dev," I said, my voice calm but firm.

He turned, startled, and I could see the slight panic in his eyes. Dinner was almost over, and he knew this was not just a casual conversation.

I walked toward him. “In my office, after...” I glanced at my watch, then met his eyes. "In ten minutes."

Dev blinked at me, wide-eyed, processing the words. It wasn’t often I called any of the family members to my office for a serious talk, but when I did, they knew something had gone wrong.

I finished my meal, excusing myself, not bothering to say much more. "Thanks for the dinner. Goodnight," I said, nodding to everyone before turning and walking out of the room, my footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Even though I tried not to show it, the weight of responsibility felt heavy on my shoulders. It wasn’t just about him—there was a bigger picture I had to focus on. And I couldn’t help but notice her, quietly observing the room, her presence like a puzzle I couldn’t quite solve.

Author's POV

The sound of rapid typing filled the air, punctuated by the soft clink of Avyansh's glasses as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose. The light from his laptop cast a cold glow across his face, highlighting the sharp contours of his jaw as he worked. His mind was focused, but the knock at the door broke his concentration.

"Come in," Avyansh's voice was calm, his tone not giving away anything.

The door opened, and Dev stepped in, standing near the chair across from Avyansh's desk, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them.

Avyansh sighed, slowly removing his glasses and placing them on the table. He scrunched his eyes, feeling the weight of the conversation to come. "You may sit," he finally said, gesturing toward the chair.

Dev nodded and sat down, his expression a mix of nervousness and reluctance. Avyansh didn't waste time, his voice cutting through the tension.

"Let's come to the point, shall we?"

"Kahiye, Bhai," Dev replied, trying to steady his nerves.

Avyansh leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table as he spoke. "Your business management course is ending soon, and I want you to join the company as soon as possible. But since there's still time, I want you to start the day after tomorrow."

Dev opened his mouth, but Avyansh silenced him with a sharp look. "But Bhai—"

"Stop." Avyansh's voice turned colder, and he fixed his gaze on Dev, the intensity in his eyes making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for interruptions. "Do you forget not to interrupt me when I'm talking? Or do I need to remind you again about it?"

"I’m sorry," Dev muttered, lowering his gaze, already regretting speaking out of turn.

Avyansh leaned forward, his voice firm but edged with irritation. "You will not miss your classes. I will talk to the headmaster about it, but now I want you to focus on your future. Not fooling around with some girls or flirting with them."

Dev winced at the harshness in Avyansh's words, but he didn’t dare challenge him. The truth stung, but it was necessary.

"And I could have talked about this matter at dinner, but I didn’t," Avyansh added, his voice colder now, the professional tone taking over. "The headmaster called me about the mess you made today. It was quite upsetting."

Avyansh leaned back again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I had to calm him down with just a few words. He listened, but it wasn’t easy."

Dev stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, not daring to meet Avyansh’s eyes. The weight of the conversation hung heavy in the air, and despite the usual ease he had with his older cousin, this was different. This was about his future. His responsibility.

Avyansh’s tone softened, but his words were clear. "Get your act together, Dev. You’re not a kid anymore."

Dev nodded like a child still, his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of Avyansh's words. The younger man had always been full of life, sometimes too carefree for Avyansh’s liking, but the seriousness of the situation seemed to finally hit him.

The air between them softened just a little, but Avyansh remained calm, even if his introverted nature wanted to retreat from this type of confrontation.

Avyansh sighed, his voice less harsh now, but still firm. "Stop making that kind of face now," he said, his tone laced with annoyance, though the edge of frustration had dulled slightly. It was hard for him to stay angry, especially with Dev’s guilty, almost childlike expression.

Dev, being Dev, had started to act like a little kid again, his demeanor shifting as he avoided eye contact, perhaps embarrassed by the confrontation. It was clear that this conversation wasn’t something he was used to having with Avyansh.

Just as Avyansh opened his mouth to say something more, a soft knock echoed from the door. He raised an eyebrow, unsure who it could be.

The door creaked open slightly, and there she was—Avantika, standing in the doorway, or rather, peeking in. Her eyes flicked to Avyansh briefly before shifting away, her gaze uncertain.

She had no intention of intruding, but her presence still felt like a soft weight in the room.

Avyansh turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment. A flicker of something stirred within him, but it was hard to identify.

His calm exterior remained intact, though, and he glanced back at Dev, who now seemed to be holding his breath.

"Yes?" Avyansh’s voice was steady, but there was an underlying softness in it now—almost as if he was trying to keep things light.

Avantika stepped inside, her face holding an expression that was a mix of anger and concern. Her eyes locked onto Avyansh as she took a few steps forward, her tone sharp and defensive.

"Aap inhe kyu pareshan kr rhe hai?" she asked, almost glaring at him. The words were directed at Avyansh with a force that surprised him.

"Aur aap kis khushi mein unhe unki studies chodne ko bol rhe hai?" she continued, her voice rising with each word, her frustration evident.

Avyansh’s brow furrowed in confusion. Studies Chodne ko bol rhe hai? He thought to himself, taken aback. He hadn’t told Dev to quit his studies—what was she talking about? He opened his mouth to explain, but his words were caught off guard.

“wha—” he stammered, his voice suddenly cut off as Avantika’s eyes narrowed even more.

Dev, standing awkwardly at the side, exchanged a glance with Avantika, his eyes almost pleading for some form of understanding. As his gaze shifted back to Avyansh, a false glimmer of tears appeared in his eyes, the last-ditch attempt at a perfect act.

"Bhabhi," Dev said, his voice cracking slightly as if he were the one hurt in all of this.

In that moment, Avyansh realized what was happening—Dev had exaggerated things to protect himself from being scolded further. He had lied to Avantika, trying to put the blame on him. Typical, Avyansh thought. But not something I would expect from him this blatantly.

His eyes moved from Dev’s fake display of tears to Avantika, and for a moment, his gaze softened. He caught the faint tremble in her stance, the weight of the worry she had for her family, and it stirred something inside him. He let out a sigh, glancing down at the pen in his hand.

“Avantika,” Avyansh said quietly, his voice much softer now, his grip on the pen tightening. He didn’t want this to escalate.

"I didn’t tell him to leave his studies. I just wanted to discuss his future." His tone remained firm but less distant, as though trying to soothe her, though he wasn’t sure if she would listen.

Avantika's eyes flickered from Dev to Avyansh, a moment of realization dawning on her. Dev’s eyes widened in panic, a clear sign that he hadn’t expected her to catch on to the lie so quickly.

She turned back to Avyansh, her voice laced with disbelief. "You weren't asking him to leave his studies? To work in the village?" she asked, her tone sharp, her suspicion rising.

Avyansh shook his head, a silent reassurance that he had no intention of pushing Dev away from his education. The last thing he wanted was to drag his cousin back into the family business prematurely.

Avantika’s gaze once again shifted back to Dev, and in that moment, she felt the crimson flush of embarrassment crawl up her neck.

The way he had manipulated her into thinking that Avyansh was pressuring him into giving up his studies stung deeply. How could I have fallen for that? she thought, her face reddening with regret.

Avyansh, however, remained unbothered. He looked at Avantika, his expression a mix of amusement and a hint of challenge. “Dev,” he said in a calm voice, “Leave. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Dev, sensing the growing tension and realizing that his cover was blown, quickly darted out of the room like a scared cat.

The door slammed shut behind Dev, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet room. Avantika couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions—confusion, frustration, and perhaps a little guilt for blindly trusting Dev.

Avyansh leaned against the desk, his gaze never leaving her as he stood up. "So... Mrs. Raghuvanshi," he said, his voice teasing now, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he walked toward her. "What were you saying?"

Avantika’s heart raced. She hadn’t expected him to be this playful, nor did she know how to react to the sudden shift in his tone.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned around, her desire to escape rising. "It’s late, I should sleep," she said hurriedly, her voice shaking slightly as she made a move toward the door.

Before Avantika could react or take another step, Avyansh’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her firmly toward him. The sudden motion caught her off guard, her breath catching in her throat as she collided with his chest.

"You haven’t recovered fully yet," he whispered lowly, his voice a mixture of authority and something she couldn’t quite place. "Biwi, So..don’t run."

The words seemed to echo in the room, but it was his proximity—his nearness—that had her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

She could feel the heat of his body, the strength in his grip, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she struggled to steady her breath.

Her heart raced faster, a drumbeat that felt like it was reverberating in her ears. She instinctively leaned into him, her face still burning with embarrassment and confusion.

Avyansh’s hold on her softened, but only enough for her to feel the tension between them. He leaned back slightly against the desk, pulling her along with him. He was careful, gentle in his actions, despite the undeniable force in his touch.

He placed her back against the desk, the action so fluid, it almost felt intentional—as if it had been choreographed in some unspoken way.

Avantika stood there for a moment, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite process. The closeness between them, the way his eyes held hers, it was almost as if they were in a space where no words were necessary. But words did come, though in a soft, teasing tone.

"Don't run from me," Avyansh murmured, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smirk, but there was something in his gaze that made her feel both exposed and, somehow, protected.

She couldn’t find the right words. All she could do was feel the heat of the moment—his presence, his hold, the undeniable pull between them. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else that made her want to run.

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