Drishti took a bite of the hot, golden-brown aloo paratha and sighed with delight. "Wow, Aunty, I really missed your cooking," she said, savoring the flavor. "No one makes parathas like you do!"

Nirmita, her friend’s mother, smiled warmly and placed another paratha on Drishti's plate. “That’s why it took you so long to visit,” she teased gently.

“Yeah!” agreed her friend, feigning a look of disappointment. “Mom and I kept calling you, but she never came.”

Inwardly, Drishti thought,Yanha main apne Sage pati k marji k bina aa gayi aur in logo ki shikayat khatam nhi ho rahi.".

"Why haven’t you been coming over, Drishti? Did anyone in your in-laws' family tell you not to?”

Drishti, her mouth half-full, quickly shook her head, not wanting them to suspect anything wrong. She swallowed, then replied with a smile, “No, no, Aunty, nothing like that. They would never stop me from visiting you. Actually, they’re the ones who encouraged me to come! And my mother-in-law is so understanding—sometimes, I don’t even need to say anything; she just knows what I need." Drishti trailed off for a moment, then added with a little more enthusiasm, “They’re more than I ever dreamed of. A family like this... I never imagined it for myself.”

Nirmita’s expression softened as she watched Drishti, clearly touched. She was happy to see that she had found a family that cherished her so deeply.

Her friend nudged Drishti playfully. “See, Mom? She won’t hear a single bad word about her family!”

Drishti laughed, then took a sip of water to wash down her food. “Ahh, Aunty, this was just what I needed!”

Nirmita chuckled, pleased to see Drishti so happy. " But where’s Uncle?” Drishti asked, glancing around the house.

“Oh, you know how he loves to travel,” Nirmita said with a fond smile. “He’s off exploring somewhere new again.”

Drishti’s eyes lit up. “Ah, if only I hadn’t taken so long to come, I could have joined him this time.”

Nirmita laughed softly. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell him to take you along on his next adventure!”

The three of them settled comfortably, their conversation drifting between memories of old times and updates on each other’s lives. Drishti felt a rare warmth and ease settle over her here—a sense of lightness she hadn’t felt in a while.

But even as she laughed along with Nimrita Aunty and her friend, her thoughts kept drifting back to him. I came without telling him; she reminded herself, guilt edging into her mind. Advait had hesitated when she first mentioned visiting, subtly hinting that he didn’t feel it was the best idea. What if he’s upset with me for coming anyway?

She glanced at her phone, still silent, wondering why he hadn’t checked on her. Not even a message to ask if I got here safely, she thought, her heart sinking a little. She could picture him there, immersed in work or maybe in the silence he often wore like armor. Did he even realize she’d left? Did it even matter to him?

Trying to shake off the nagging doubt, she focused on Nimrita Aunty’s warm laughter, but her mind kept circling back to the unanswered questions. Why does he hold back so much? she wondered. What is it that he’s not saying? The more she thought about it, the harder it became to ignore the feeling—a sense of distance creeping into the warmth of this moment, a reminder of something she couldn't quite hold in her hands...

…….

It had been five days since Drishti came here, and not once had she or Advait reached out to each other. She’d spoken with her family, but even then, she hadn’t brought him up. It was only Anjali, in passing conversation, who mentioned that Advait had been coming home less frequently.

A pang of hurt tightened in her chest. He hasn’t even bothered to check on me, she thought, the disappointment simmering just below the surface. He’d insisted that he’d explained everything to her—that there were no misunderstandings left. But hadn’t his silence spoken louder? Is he really so busy he can’t remember me? she wondered, her mind slipping back to their last conversation, replaying his words, his tone. Maybe I crossed a line, she thought, the echo of guilt mingling with her frustration. Maybe my silence hurt his ego.

Before she could dwell further, a loud, off-key singing voice broke through her thoughts.

“Sirf keh jaaun yaa aasmaan pe likh doon, Teree taareefon mein chashme baddoor!” Prachika was singing with enthusiasm, her hand held out dramatically toward Drishti, who couldn’t help but laugh.

Prachika grinned at her. “I might not be the best singer, but hey, I’m singing for my friend, and that’s all that counts! A friend like that? You don’t ever let her go!”

Drishti smiled, letting Prachika’s warmth pull her back into the present. Moments like these were rare treasures, she realized—moments when she could forget, if only for a while, the tangled emotions waiting for her.

Prachika walked over to Drishti, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Should we have some drinks? What do you say?"

Drishti looked at her, startled. "Are you mad? We don’t drink, and besides, we have to go home soon. What would Aunty think?"

Prachika shrugged, playfully smirking. "Correction: We don’t drink... only you don’t."

"What?" Drishti gasped, her tone exaggerated with shock.

“Yeah, I’m surprised! You kept this from me. Tum toh Nashedi Nikli—you’re a secret drunkard!” Prachika teased, clutching her heart as if wounded, then bursting into laughter.

“I am not a drunkard! I’ve only had a few drinks here, maybe three times in my life, and only when Ruhani was around.” Drishti laughed, shaking her head.

“Chii! Order a soft drink, then.” Prachika chuckled as they called over the waiter, and the two sipped on their drinks, chatting.

Drishti’s eyes drifted to the dance floor, where a crowd swayed to the music, but suddenly Prachika’s startled voice pulled her back. “Drishti! Look behind you. Is…isn’t that Jiju?”

Drishti’s heart skipped. She whipped her head around. There was Advait—his arm around another woman. Her heart clenched as she recognized Sagun, who was clinging to him for balance, her hand draped around his neck. A whirlwind of emotions overtook her: betrayal, hurt, confusion.

Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but she forced herself to hold back. Anger flared up within her. So this is why he hasn’t been coming home. He said he cared for me; he said he wanted me. Was all of it a lie?

Advait, meanwhile, was trying to steady Sagun, who was too tipsy to stand on her own. “Sagun, why do you drink when you know you can’t handle it?” He muttered, his tone irritated.

“I…can…handle it!” Sagun slurred, leaning on him heavily. “Even you can’t cross me here,” she giggled, her words barely coherent.

He sighed in exasperation. “I’m not trying to compete with you. Go bother your boyfriend instead,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sagun’s face darkened. “Don’t mention him! He…he betrayed me!” she cried, her voice catching.

Advait looked shocked. “He betrayed you? What happened? You know you’re like a sister to me. If he’s hurt you in any way, tell me, and I’ll take your side.”

With that, Sagun suddenly threw her arms around him, and Advait awkwardly hugged her back, looking around. His gaze locked onto Drishti, who was standing across the room, watching them, her expression filled with heartbreak. She looked stunning in her red dress, her eyes brimming with tears that she refused to let fall.

But before he could react, she went out of the door, and Prachika followed her.

Advait’s heart sank. Maybe she saw everything. Damn it!

He quickly released Sagun and took out his phone, dialing Siddharth’s number. As soon as Siddharth picked up, Advait said hurriedly, “Come to this address and pick up your ‘bomb.’ She’s wreaked havoc on my life tonight,” and cut the call.

When he looked back, Sagun was gazing at him, half-conscious. “Now what?” he muttered, clenching his teeth. “Tumne mere aur mere biwi ke beech aag laga di hai. Just when we were finally getting somewhere...

Sagun groaned dramatically, swaying slightly. “Nobody cares about me!” she mumbled, as if on the verge of tears, her voice filled with exaggerated sorrow.

“Shut up!” he hissed, unable to keep his focus off Drishti’s tearful eyes and what she must be thinking. She must be piecing together all kinds of stories in her mind right now...

Sagun, oblivious to his turmoil, latched onto his arm again. He dragged her outside, holding her firmly by the bicep.

Outside, they spotted Siddharth coming their way. Advait immediately released her, and Sagun lurched toward Siddharth, hugging him tightly. “Baby, he yelled at me, and I fell because of him!” she mumbled, her words muffled.

Advait sighed heavily, muttering, “What kind of woman is she? Just two minutes ago, she was cursing you out,” he said with a resigned expression.

Siddharth chuckled. “Thanks for looking out for her, bro.”

“Yeah, well, tell her never to call me again. Thanks to her, I’ve probably turned into a villain in my wife’s eyes by now.”

Siddharth smirked. “Is Drishti here? I’d love to meet the woman who has you running around like this.”

“No, she’s gone. Thanks to Sagun, I’ll have to search for her myself now.” Advait’s tone was frustrated and tensed knowing Drishti had left with only one impression in mind.

Picking up Sagun, Siddharth gave him a nod before leaving with her. Advait let out a sigh of irritation, watching them disappear. This girl…

Steeling himself, he glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Drishti. She must have left by now. Muttering to himself, he made his way to his car, dialing her number as he opened the door.

But all he heard was an automated message: “The number you are dialing is currently switched off.”

Frustrated, he closed his eyes. “Now she won’t even listen to me. How am I supposed to make her understand?”

Drishti arrived at her friend’s home, feeling weighed down by what she had just seen, but hiding it beneath a façade of calmness. She moved with the same ease, without a hint of turmoil or the shock of seeing another woman wrapped around her husband. Quietly, she made her way to the room she shared with Prachika, her expression unreadable. She changed into her nightwear, sank onto the bed, and began pulling her blanket over herself as if nothing unusual had happened. Prachika observed her closely, searching for the right words to bridge the silence between them. Tentatively, she tried, “Drishti, you—” only to be cut off.

“Why are you still sitting there? Don’t you want to sleep?” Drishti’s voice was steady, almost dismissive. “Look at the time—it’ll be morning soon. Go change.”

Prachika, unable to contain her concern, responded, “Why are you acting like this?”

Drishti's face betrayed nothing as she asked, “Acting like what?” She lay back down, adjusting the blanket to cover herself. “Just move, would you? I need the blanket.”

But Prachika pressed on, undeterred by her friend’s attempt to brush things off. “Don’t pretend with me, Drishti. I know what’s going on. I know what you’re feeling. He’s your husband, and he was with someone else. At least ask him about it. Why do you keep suffering in silence like this?”

Drishti froze, anger flashing in her eyes as she looked back at Prachika. “Ask him what, exactly?” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “Why he was with that woman? Why she was so close to him? Or maybe why he hasn’t even texted me since I got here?” Her words were sharp and biting. “The truth is obvious—I’m the outsider here, forcing myself into a place where I’m not wanted.”

The honesty of her outburst left Prachika stunned, unable to find a reply. Drishti turned away, pulling the blanket over herself again. “And don’t try talking to me right now,” she muttered, closing herself off even further.

Under the blankets, Drishti felt numb, as though her heart had learned to stop reacting to the pain that had become all too familiar. She wanted to cry to release the ache building inside her, but something held her back. “You knew this,” she reminded herself bitterly. “Yet you still hoped, didn’t you?” She closed her eyes against the frustration and disappointment. "I’m not going back with him," she resolved silently, feeling a sense of strength rise amid her heartbreak, even if only for a moment.