The sun poured gold over the Rawal estate—rich marigolds draped from balconies, and the rhythmic beat of dhols echoed from the garden. The estate was buzzing—sound blazing, relatives gossiping, and laughter spilling like champagne.

Sarya stepped into the main hall, her heels clicking softly. Her eyes scanned the decor as she moved toward the dining table, where she meticulously arranged a bowl of haldi and decorated it with rose petals. Dressed in an elegant, rich mustard yellow saree, she exuded classic Indian charm. The saree draped perfectly over her figure, paired with a sleeveless blouse that accentuated her refined silhouette. As she walked, her golden-brown hair flowed down her back, and her delicate choker and bangles added the perfect finishing touch to her look.

“Badi Bahu , these are the flowers you ordered,” a servant said, walking in with a basket full of assorted blooms.

“Kaka, these flowers should have been delivered last night! They were supposed to be used in the decor for that aesthetic vibe. Wait—how did they decorate everything then? And why wasn’t I informed?” Sarya gasped, picking up a lotus and twirling it between her fingers, frustration spilling over. “This is—”

She paused mid-sentence, noticing the servant’s face tightening with unease. Softening her tone, she said, “Uhm, Kaka, please keep it near the swing in the garden. I’ll look into it.”

She started searching for her phone, mentally smacking herself. This was her habit—getting lost in her own web of thoughts and forgetting everything around her.

Where is the damn phone?

She walked back to the dining table to look for her saathi—her phone.

Just then, it rang.

She turned to look for it—and bumped right into her black coffee.

Yes, into Mr. Abhishek Singh Rawal.

'Mr. Stone Singh Rawal', her subconscious added smugly.

Her black coffee—as she often referred him in her mind—strong, bitter, yet dangerously addictive.

He didn’t move. He merely raised a brow.

Sarya stepped aside, flustered. Her frustration from earlier had vanished like steam. His presence had that effect on her.

Abhishek stood tall at 6'2", his presence quietly commanding without needing words. With sharp, well-defined features and a chiseled jawline, he had the kind of handsomeness that made people look twice—then thrice—and every single time after. His eyes, deep and unreadable, held the calm of the ocean and spoke more than his lips ever could. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and trousers, with an overcoat draped casually over his arm, he looked like a man you’d write stories about.

He didn’t look .

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t compliment her in that saree she wore just for him.

His heart didn’t flutter.

Because it never had.

Because he never felt anything for her.

But she did.

Every time.

Just like the nineteen-year-old Sarya who stood frozen in a university corridor — the first time her eyes met his.

Abhishek Rawal. Twenty-one. Silent. Brilliant. Untouchable.

She fell before she even knew what love was.

And even now…

After marriage, after two years, after becoming the eldest daughter-in-law of the Rawal house —

Even now, at twenty-seven, she looked at the same man.

And still…

The way the twenty-nine-year-old Abhishek walked past her could still unmake her.

Still make the nineteen-year-old in her ache for something that never came.

“It’s loud,” he whispered.

“Hmmm.” Yes, my heart.

What could she do when he was around? Her heart knew nothing but to beat louder.

“Your phone,” he added, holding it in front of her eyes.

Her daze broke. She took the phone quickly and cut the call, muttering something under her breath.

“Uhm, where are you going? Are you heading to the office now? The function is about to start,” she asked, hesitant but curious.

“A virtual meeting. In the study,” he replied curtly and turned to walk away.

'How much time?

I didn’t ask. Now everyone’s going to bombard me with questions and I—'

“I’ll be back in 30 minutes,” he said, pausing on the stairs without looking back.

Aww, did he just read her mind?

Such a coincidence.

He answered before I could even ask.

“What’s happening, Sarya? Remember, you’re not a normal girl anymore. You’re the eldest daughter-in-law of the Rawals. Behave like one and act your responsibilities. Got it?” came the authoritative voice of Sakshi Akash Singh Rawal who happened to see her little dance of celebration.

“Yes, Mom. Right away,” she replied and her mother in law left.

Well it is expected - the gentle, poise, sensible and calm demeanor with a striking personality to be the eldest daughter in law of Rawals.

But Sarya was much more than that.

“You’re not a normal girl anymore,” Sarya muttered, mimicking her mother-in-law as she scolded the flower vase with a dramatic expression. Then, laughing at her own antics and inhaling the fresh fragrance of the blooming lotus, she literally ran in heels to check the final details for the haldi function about to begin in the garden.

Unseen by her, a figure leaned slightly over the first-floor balcony, looking at her all antics. A rare softness flickered in his unreadable gaze.

He turned away silently, the ghost of that moment still lingering in his eyes, and headed to the study for his meeting. But a part of his mind stayed behind—with her.

--------------

Dhwani sat in front of the dressing table, adorning herself with jewelry. The room was quite a sight—painted in shades of grey and white with immaculate precision. This lifestyle wasn’t new to her. Being the daughter of a wealthy businessman, she should’ve grown accustomed to such luxury. But she despised it.

And now, as the second daughter-in-law of the Rawals, it was an everyday affair—limelight, glamour, and a marriage without will.

She stood up, smoothing the creases of her outfit. It was a beautifully curated lehenga set that merged subtlety with vibrance. The cream pleated lehenga had a soft, natural flow, paired with a modern white blouse that added a bold twist to the traditional silhouette. The look was elevated by a vibrant yellow dupatta adorned with golden patterns and a scalloped border—adding a pop of color and richness.

She didn’t move away from the mirror—just leaned in, placing her hands on the dresser, staring at the woman looking back at her.

She had become someone she no longer recognized.

Until another figure leaned into the mirror beside her, his face next to hers, adjusting his unruly hair while talking on the phone.

“Hayee,” he sighed, leaning back and answering with few words..

She glanced at the man reflected beside her.

Yes. He was her husband.

Mr. Advik Singh Rawal.

Advik was the kind of man who wore charm like a second skin—effortless and disarming. Standing an even six feet tall, his lean frame moved with a natural grace, like he belonged in every room he entered. His hair—jet black and silky—always seemed to fall into place, perfectly unbothered. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, adding a mature edge that softened with his rare, disarming smile. His eyes carried a playful glint, but also a depth—as if he knew the weight of silence and the worth of words.

“Dhwani,” he said before she could step away. What surprised her was his hold on her wrist—gentle, yet firm.

“Yes, Advik,” she replied softly, her voice timid as she looked at his hand. He gestured for her to wait a couple of minutes while he ended his call.

Under his gaze, she looked down at her feet. They stood still. Advik slowly released her wrist and instead entwined his fingers with hers, causing her breath to quicken.

“Come,” he said. “These bangles are part of the family’s tradition. I know you don’t really like wearing much of this... but could you please wear them?” he asked gently, leading her back to the dressing table and helping her sit. “Only if you want to…”

Was anyone ever this kind to her?

Could any man be like him?

Nope.

She was moved by his thoughtfulness. While she had been lost in her own discomfort, he had noticed her. He saw that she wasn’t into the glitz—that she preferred subtlety over sparkle, comfort over couture.

“Okay,” she said softly.

“May I? I mean... uh... I know you can do it... but uh... you know, help...?”

“Yes, you can,” she said, chuckling inwardly at his stammering. He looked like a child trying to form a sentence.

.

Though they had been married for six months now, meaningful encounters between Advik and Dhwani were few and far between, even while sharing the same roof, the same room, and the same bed. Sometimes, their demanding professions stole away their time, each buried in deadlines, surgeries, meetings, and responsibilities. Other times, it was silence—intentional and heavy—that filled the space between them.

Initially, their marriage was one they both didn't wanted — a business alliance between two rich and reputed families.

Advik, bruised by the circumstances, held Dhwani accountable for a decision neither of them truly made. And Dhwani, quiet and composed, retreated into herself—absorbing the blame without resistance, her silence speaking what words could not.

But time, as it always does, unraveled the knots. Somewhere between unshared breakfasts and avoided glances, Advik saw through the fog of his assumptions. He realized his fault—and for the first time, he apologized with sincerity in his eyes.

They had cleared the air, YES but between them still lived a thousand unspoken emotions, unsaid confessions waiting to bloom.

The bangles were light but seemed custome made embedded with rare stones that shine brightly.

He gently took her hands and helped her wear the bangles, his fingers sliding them up her arm with care.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked quietly, a flicker of hurt crossing his face as he knelt in front of her chair.

“No. Why would I be? Aah—why would you think that?” she asked instantly, surprised. She was anything but angry—especially not at him.

"I...umm..I want to say something, can I ?"

"Hmm, boliye"

“You... you don’t speak much,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s just... in these six months of marriage, I’ve come to know you a little I can say. I know we didn't started as good but we can.... now but only if you want. Whatever you want.

But before that I want you to speak. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, what you feel. Say what’s on your mind. Is that alright?”

“Okay,” she replied, hesitantly but honestly. He raised his brow.

"Yes, I will.", she replied in less words confusing him.

For dhwani it was a whole blow.

From the first day of marriage she has ran away from him more like avoided him and was almost successful in these months. She was living with a fear everyday, to be with him alone, to be confronted of her actions, to be ill treated, to be forced and whatnot in her mind.

But a wave of comfort washed over her as he talked so gently and said what he wanted, her heart raced but felt calm too.

“So, Dr. Dhwani Advik Singh Rawal,” he said, standing up with a soft smile, “are we all good to go?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling a little in return.

“After you,” he said, pulling open the door. She stepped forward, and he followed, closing it gently behind them.

--------------

The courtyard of the Rawal mansion bloomed in golden chaos. Marigold garlands swayed from pillars, turmeric bowls sat glittering on silver thalis, and laughter rose above the dhol beats.

“Nysa, place that thaal there. And these flowers — they’ll be used for the flower shower,” Sarya instructed, her tone sharp yet focused. “And where the hell is Sharad? I’ve been trying to reach him since morning!”

Sarya is one of the calm and composed women in professional in her design and makeover  but the event 'ghar ki shaadi' has taken a toll on her.

“Mam, Sharad sir is in Delhi for the Minister’s villa project. You told him to go, remember?” Nysa replied sheepishly, familiar with her boss’s tendency to move mountains yet worry about molehills.

“Bhabhi, here… you’re overworking yourself again,” Dhwani said gently, handing Sarya a glass of juice. Nysa shot her a grateful glance and quietly made her exit.

“Phew! Didn’t know I’d get pampered by Dr. Dhwani herself today,” Sarya teased, taking the glass with a grin.

“It’s nothing, Bhabhi. You’re like a sister to me,” Dhwani replied with a shrug and a warm smile.

“Ha, vo toh hai,” Sarya nodded, sipping the juice. But her eyes soon narrowed in suspicion.

“Kuch toh gadbad hai…”

Dhwani followed her gaze and chuckled. “Like the episode we watched last night?”

“Exactly! Same vibes… different plot,” Sarya murmured, motioning toward Nirvaan, who stood laughing with a chaotic bunch of cousins.

“Last week, Nirvaan was threatening Maa to leave the house. And now? Look at him — all smiles, haldi-ready, and loving it.” Dhwani raised an eyebrow.

"Haan toh...its weird. Look nirvaan weds sukriti, doesn't it sounds ajeeb.", saya added playfully.

"Yes like it was in your wedding.",before dhwani could respond voice chimed in.

“Oh shut up,” Sarya replied without turning, already knowing the voice. “You got yourself a flower-like pretty wife and now you walk around like some Frog Prince turned Greek hero.”

“True,” Dhwani muttered, trying to recover from the flutter of emotions the voice stirred in her.

Advik raised a brow while Sarya giggled.

“I mean, yes,” Dhwani added hastily. “Sukriti looked… pale. A little off."

"They don't match each other's vibe", sarya said clicking her tongue.

"Hmm.", advik mumbled agreeing. He was getting doubtful of the couple,

"Aur uska attitude.. too casual....", sarya said annoyed, a strand of hair kept sliding from behind her ear tucking it back.

"What's happening?", a deep, cold voice interrupted them.

All three stiffened.

“Nothing, bab—I mean… husband. Just a glass… I mean water… it’s just—so much hotness—heat! I meant heat!” Sarya stammered, caught off guard looking at her husband who was looking like a treat to the eyes.

“All three of you?” Abhishek asked coolly, his gaze piercing.

“Ha-ha…,” Sarya gave a nervous laugh.

“Y-Yes,” Dhwani confirmed, barely able to meet his eyes.

“If you’re done… vibing, Maa’s calling.” With hands in his pockets and an unreadable expression, Abhishek turned and walked away.

“How the heaven he always know everything?” Sarya hissed at Advik.

“Ask your husband,” Advik shrugged.

“Rehne do fir…” she muttered annoyingly.

At the center of the celebration, Nirvaan sat on a decorated stool in his pale yellow kurta, now joyously stained with vibrant haldi handprints and streaks. His grin stretched wide — whether from excitement or concealment, no one could tell.

After Akash and Sakshi applied the ceremonial haldi, Panditji gestured, and Abhishek stepped forward. He gently smeared haldi on Nirvaan’s face and arms.

“Khush reh,” he said simply.

Sarya, now donning sunglasses, smirked. “Enjoying too much, dulhe raja?”

“Ab itni sundar kanyas hongi, toh Krishna ko toh anand aayega hi,” Nirvaan teased with folded hands.

“Pagal,” Sarya replied, waving her hand.

“With this much haldi, you’ll shine brighter than a tube light,” Advik joked, right as Dhwani pressed her haldi-streaked palms softly onto Nirvaan’s cheeks.

“Bhabhi, idhar bhi,” Nirvaan said, turning his face just in time to steal another playful pat from Dhwani.

Advik rolled his eyes at his antics while Sarya gave Nirvaan a knowing look.

“Okay, family photo!” a cousin called.

Sarya moved toward Dhwani — but someone bumped into her, and she stumbled back.

Before she could fall, two strong arms caught her, her back collided against the hard chest of her husband.

Their eyes met — one reflecting the unanswered questions, hurt and  maybe...... something deeper while the other carried guilt and pain....... and an unmistakable ache.

“Bhaiya aur Bhabhi paas paas!” the photographer called out, making everyone laugh.

Advik stood beside Dhwani, placing a hand behind her back — close, but not touching. Their smiles were small but present.

“Three…” Sarya bit her lip, forcing a smile while still caged in her husband’s arms.

Abhishek’s heart thudded, and almost instinctively, he tightened his hold around her waist.

“Two…” Dhwani glanced sideways, only to find Advik already looking at her — his pretty brown eyes softer how it usually was when with her.

“Banana!” Nirvaan shouted, and the photo clicked.