CHAPTER XLIII
When we reached my sister Pavani's house, I felt a small wave of relief wash over me. It was different here—quieter, warmer, and most importantly, free from the suffocating voices that had filled the air earlier. As soon as we entered, Sita excused herself, saying she wanted to freshen up, and slipped into the restroom.
I waited for that very moment, because I needed to speak to my sister alone. With a heavy heart, I told her everything that had happened—the accusations, the cruel words of my sister Saumya's mother-in-law, the unbearable way Jasmine's love was being treated as a crime, and how Sita had stood firm when everyone else was blinded by their so-called honor and pride. As the words left my mouth, I felt the same pain again, as if reliving every wound.
Pavani's eyes softened with concern. "Sita must be disturbed after all this," she said quietly, almost as though she were speaking to herself. "She is so gentle… and the environment in her home was very different. People didn't talk much there, everyone stayed wrapped in their work. She isn't used to such direct conflicts. This must be hard for her."
I nodded slowly. "Yes… maybe that's true. She hides it well, but I can sense her heart is heavy. She saw too much today—too much hatred where there should have been love."
Pavani took a deep breath, then looked at me with a small smile that carried both affection and hope. "Vedu, I want Sita to return to England with beautiful memories, not with these scars. When she looks back at her days in India, she shouldn't remember tears, she should remember love. That is why I want you to stay here, with me, for a few more days. Let her breathe, let her smile again."
Her words touched me deeply. I reached for her hand and pressed it softly. "You know I've never said no to you. Even now, I won't. If you want us to stay, then we'll stay. We will spend one whole week here, in your home."
The happiness on her face was immediate. Her smile grew brighter, like the first light of dawn after a long night. "Good," she said warmly, "then I'll start preparing dinner. Tonight, we will sit together, eat together, and make this house echo with laughter."
And as I watched her walk toward the kitchen, a sense of peace finally entered my chest. Perhaps here, in my sister's home, Sita would find the comfort she deserved. Perhaps here, we could gather moments that would heal the wounds left behind by those who claimed to love but only knew how to judge.
When I stepped into the room where Mishu had left Sita, the shower door was slightly open. That told me she wasn't in the room—she was inside the washroom.
I pulled out a few clothes from my briefcase and walked straight in, locking the door behind me. The moment I turned around, my heart skipped.
Sita was there.
She had just been about to change. The towel she was holding against her lips slipped from her hand the instant she saw me. For a second, she stood frozen, her eyes widening.
I should have apologized. I should have looked away. But no… instead, a sly, teasing smile tugged at my lips. I tilted my head, giving her that wicked grin she hated—because it always meant trouble.
Her face flushed with anger. Without even thinking, she raised her hand and smack! —a sharp slap landed on my cheek.
"Ouch!" I gasped dramatically, rubbing my face.
Wrapping the towel tightly around herself, she glared.
"Ved! What on earth are you doing here?" she snapped.
Trying to look completely innocent, I held up my clothes.
"Wifey, I was going to shower too," I said sweetly.
Her eyes narrowed. "Then use another bathroom. Out. Now."
Instead of leaving, I leaned against the door, still grinning.
"Or… hear me out… why don't we shower together? Saves time, saves water. Very romantic too." I winked.
Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile, but instead she bonked me on the head with her knuckles.
"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless," she muttered.
I clutched my forehead as if mortally wounded, then dropped to the floor in slow motion.
"Ahh! My love, you've injured me. Look, I'm bleeding!" I cried dramatically, pointing to nowhere.
Immediately, her eyes widened. She bent down, worry flickering across her face.
"Ved! Where? Show me!"
The moment she leaned close, I couldn't hold it anymore—I burst into laughter.
"Got you, jaan!" I teased, holding my stomach as I laughed.
Sita froze, realization dawning. Then her expression turned from shock to pure fury. She grabbed the nearest thing—a long wooden stick lying in the corner—and came after me.
"VEDU!" she yelled. "You dare play with me like that?"
I squealed, slipping across the tiles as I dodged her playful swats. "Arrey, jaan, it was just a joke! Don't kill me in the washroom!"
She chased me around, towel clutched in one hand, stick in the other, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. Her giggles slipped out between her threats, making it impossible to take her anger seriously.
Finally, breathless, she threw the stick aside and collapsed on the edge of the bathtub, still laughing.
"You're impossible," she said, shaking her head.
I sat down beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.
"Impossible maybe," I whispered, pressing a playful kiss on her cheek.
She blushed, but before I could pull away, her hand caught my wrist. Her laughter softened into silence. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the water dripping in the background.
Then, with a tenderness that caught me off guard, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently against mine.
It wasn't fiery, it wasn't rushed—it was soft, respectful, and full of unspoken love. A kiss that silenced all the teasing, all the chaos, and reminded me exactly why she was my everything.
When she pulled back, her eyes held that mix of shyness and affection I adored.
"You drive me crazy, Ved," she whispered, smiling despite herself.
And in that moment, surrounded by steam, laughter, and our ridiculous little chaos, the bathroom turned into our own private world of love and madness.
I looked at her quietly for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier still heavy on my chest. Finally, I spoke softly, my voice almost trembling.
"Sita… I'm sorry. For everything that happened today."
Her eyes flickered toward me, calm but sharp.
"Yes, Ved… you should apologize," she replied firmly.
For a second, my heart sank—until I caught the faintest curve of her lips. She wasn't truly angry.
I chuckled, trying to lighten the air.
"But let me be clear, I'm not apologizing for seeing you without clothes," I teased, half-grinning.
"I'm apologizing because of everything that happened back at the house today… the chaos, the hurtful words, the tension."
Sita's expression softened instantly. She sighed, lowering her eyes for a moment before looking back at me.
"Ved, you don't need to apologize for that. I understand. And besides…" her voice grew gentler, "I'm your wife now, aren't I? So your family is my family too. That house… it's my house as well. If there's a problem there, if there's pain there—it hurts both of us equally."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. A warmth spread through me at her acceptance, at the way she claimed not just the family but the burden too.
For a moment, I could only stare at her. My lips parted, but no words came. Finally, I whispered, almost in awe,
"This is why you're different, Sita. This… this is my true understanding of you."
Before I could finish, she cut me off, her voice steady but sharp, a small wall rising back between us.
"Don't get carried away, Ved," she said, looking away.
"At the end of the day… we're just friends."
The word stabbed deeper than I wanted to admit. Friends. Just friends.
The smile I'd been wearing faltered. My chest tightened as the reminder of our contract marriage returned, cold and unyielding. To the world, she was my wife. But in her heart… she had just drawn the line again.
And in that moment, no matter how much laughter or tenderness we shared, the distance between us felt painfully clear.
To be continue....