It was past 11 PM, and Drishti sat in the hall, her legs folded beneath her as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone. Her mind, however, was miles away, replaying the events from earlier that evening. The way Advait's voice had been thick with rage, the clash between father and son, Tej's venomous disdain—it all echoed in her head. They had been shouting at each other like they were complete strangers, not family. The scene had left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that wouldn't fade.

After witnessing Advait in such a state, Drishti couldn’t summon the courage to return to their room. His eyes—those eyes that only communicated anger—had left her shaken, filling her with fear.

“Drishti, what happened? Why are you sitting here?” Riddhima, her Chachi, asked as she approached.

Drishti stood quickly, startled. “Nothing, Chachi. Just sitting.”

Riddhima gave her a soft smile, her hand resting comfortingly on Drishti's shoulder. “Then go to your room, Beta. It’s late.”

“Hmmm…” Drishti mumbled, though her face betrayed her hesitation. She clearly didn’t want to go.

Sensing her reluctance, Riddhima added kindly, “Listen, Drishti, I know what you’re worried about, but I’m sure he won’t say anything. Just... don’t bring up what happened, alright? Avoid the topic for now.”

Drishti nodded, but the unease remained. “But, Chachi, why do they act like this? Why do they fight like that?”

Riddhima sighed, a weary expression crossing her face. “Beta, there are some relationships that seem fine on the outside, but they’re broken on the inside. That’s just how it is in this family.”

She patted Drishti’s shoulder one last time before standing up. “Now go to bed. Stop thinking.

With a final glance, Riddhima left, and Drishti hesitantly made her way up the stairs.

She opened the door just a crack, peeking in as though it were someone else's room. Advait sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on his laptop, deep in thought. Steeling herself, Drishti entered, her steps soft, almost as if she hoped not to be noticed.

She moved like a mouse, slow and cautious, as if trying to make herself invisible. Advait caught sight of her as she slipped into the changing room. When she re-emerged, dressed for bed, she saw him still focused on his laptop. She picked up her phone, scrolling through it as she wandered around the room.

Her restless pacing began to irritate Advait. His eyes followed her as she moved toward the door, then circled back, completely engrossed in her phone, oblivious to his growing annoyance.

“Drishti,” he said, his voice soft but carrying a warning.

Still, she didn’t hear him, lost in her own world.

He tilted his head, watching her for a moment before calling again, louder this time, “Drishti!”

She jumped, startled, finally looking at him. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver of terror through her.

Standing rigid, like an obedient child, she stammered, “K-Kya?” Her eyes avoided his, fixated on the floor.

Advait sighed, his tone softer now. “Don’t you have college tomorrow?”

She nodded, a quick, nervous gesture.

“What?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hai,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Advait didn’t hear any movement from her side, and when he glanced over again, he saw Drishti still standing there, her eyes hesitantly lifted toward him. But as soon as their gazes met, she quickly cast her eyes downward again.

“Didn't you hear me?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

“Woh…” Drishti murmured, her head still lowered, refusing to meet his eyes. It was something he had grown to dislike. She had slowly started looking at him and speaking without stammering, but now the hesitation was back.

“First, look up when you speak,” he commanded, his voice firm.

But she couldn't. The fear that had taken root in her wouldn't let her meet his gaze.

Frustrated, Advait stood up from the sofa, his tone sharper. “I said something. Didn’t you hear?”

He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Drishti instinctively looked up, only to find him standing just a step away from her, his presence overwhelming.

Her breath caught, her heart racing, as she struggled to hold his gaze.

"Now speak," He said, his gaze locked on her.

"Woh, Yo… You…"

"Stop stuttering." His tone cut through her hesitation. She stopped, inhaled deeply, and forced the words out in one breath, meeting his eyes.

"You are sitting on the sofa where I will sleep."

"On the bed," he said.

"No!" Drishti snapped.

"Why? You won the bed; why not go and claim your victory?" He asked, gesturing toward the bed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Riddhima's words echoed in her here, and she immediately She shrugged, avoiding the tension, and moved to sit on the bed. He also went and sat on the sofa and again indulged in his work.

After a while, Advait stretched, put his laptop aside, and glanced at her. He shifted his body on the sofa, noticing her discomfort.

"Drishti," he called softly, trying to see if she had fallen asleep.

"I’m not going to share this bed with you," she replied, her voice muffled under the blanket.

I think she i

He chuckled softly, rolling onto his side. "I’m not talking about the bed." His voice now sounded tender, almost playful—a stark contrast from the man who had shouted earlier.

Drishti peeked out from under the blanket; her curiosity piqued. "W-What?"

"I shouted at you." He said it in a slow voice.

"In front of my friend," she finished for him, her tone sharper.

"Yes, yes… I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t find you in college, and I was worried," he admitted.

"So you shouted?" She sat up, crossing her legs on the bed, her arms folded defensively.

"Because it’s not safe for you to roam around the city like that," he said, his voice still gentle, trying to reason with her.

"Why?"

"Because you’re my wife. And your name, your reputation, carries a lot of danger with it."

Drishti’s brows furrowed, disbelief clear in her eyes. "No one knows I am the wife of the Advait Singh Rathore. I don’t even think people know you’re married!"

Advait shifted uncomfortably. He sat up now, clearly unsettled by her words. "That’s for your safety."

"Safety? Safety?" she echoed, her frustration bubbling over. "I don’t want to talk about this." She turned away, huffing in anger.

"At least listen—"

"No, I won’t! You only know how to shout. What’s there to listen to? Big words, huh?" She mumbled angrily, pulling the blanket back over her head.

"I can hear you," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Then listen properly, sitting up."

"Here I am, trying to have a conversation, and you’re getting angry," he sighed, still seated, his patience wearing thin but holding on.

Drishti abruptly sat up again, her eyes fiery. "I’m getting angry? Does it even matter to you? You call shouting 'talking,' and you expect me to just accept that?"

Advait, feeling the weight of her words, tried to diffuse the situation. "Drink some water. You always talk this much in one breath, and sometimes you just choose not to speak at all."

Drishti, now more indignant, waved off his suggestion. "Water? Why would I speak? When I talk, you’ll just say, 'Drink water.' When I don’t, you’ll think I should listen to you instead."

"When did I say that?" He looked at her, clearly confused, trying to defend himself.

"You act so innocent, but ask anyone around us; they’ll tell you what you’re really like."

Advait’s expression softened. "I’m just trying to say sorry, but you’re not even listening."

Drishti paused, startled. Did he really just apologize? But then her defenses came back up. "Sorry? You can’t change what others think of you."

He scratched his palm nervously, still calm, as if accepting his fate. "I’ll apologize in front of her."

Drishti blinked, astonished. "Advait Singh Rathore? Apologize? In front of someone?"

He gave her a firm look. "No, your husband will."

Drishti was at a loss for words. All her courage seemed to drain away in that moment.

"No… no, there’s no need for that." Her voice softened, finally giving in. "But don’t ever shout at me like that again, especially not in front of others. If you do, I won’t speak to you again. And I won’t give you the bed either."

Advait chuckled lightly, but beneath the smile, a flicker of unease passed through his mind. They both settled back into their places, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

……………………………..

A month had passed in the blink of an eye, and things between them had begun to shift. The awkward silence that once hung between them was replaced by conversations, and though their relationship was still delicate, there was a noticeable change. His efforts to reach her were finally bearing fruit. She had started to open up in his presence, something that hadn’t seemed possible before. She laughed more often, spoke freely, and there was a lightness about her that hadn't been there before.

Yet there remained an underlying tension. Even as she grew more comfortable around him, any time his voice raised, even slightly, she would freeze. Her face would fall, her mouth tightening into a frown, and her eyes would flicker with fear. It was as if she was bracing herself for something terrible to happen. This reaction didn’t escape him. He had learned to tread carefully, choosing his words with caution, making sure his tone remained calm, even when frustration bubbled up inside him. He never wanted to be the cause of her fear, but he knew it was there, lingering beneath the surface.

Despite the progress between them, there was one thing that had never been addressed. She had never once asked him about his strained relationship with his father. She had noticed the tension, the fights that occurred often between them , but she did not have the courage to ask him..

For his part, he had never offered her an explanation either. The battles between him and his father remained a closed chapter in his life, one he wasn’t ready to share.

Today was just another day, like always. Drishti was in the kitchen, preparing food alongside her mother-in-law, Riddhima, and her aunt, Anjali. The usual mix of gossip and jokes filled the air as the three women worked together.

Drishti cherished these moments. Having grown up without a family to call her own, she found a deep sense of belonging here. Her mother-in-law had become a maternal figure to her, a shadow of the mother she never had. Drishti had even hoped to form a bond with her father-in-law, but that dream hadn't come true.

As she kneaded the dough, Riddhima focused on the curry, and Anjali was busy with another task while also guiding Drishti through her work.

“Drishti,” Riddhima called out.

“Hnnn?” Drishti responded, her hands still busy with the dough.

“I’ve never heard you talk about your family,” Riddhima said casually, but with a hint of curiosity.

Drishti paused for a moment, her smile faltering just slightly. “Ummm,” she forced a smile, trying to keep her tone light. “I just never found the time to talk about them.”