Author POV
The Malhotra private gym was a world of its own—wide glass walls, black steel equipment lined with quiet precision, a view of Mumbai’s morning skyline stretching like a silver canvas.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, falling across the polished floor where Siddharth Malhotra trained with relentless focus.
His muscular frame moved with a disciplined rhythm—broad shoulders tightening under the strain of every lift, forearms flexing with strength earned through hours of training.
Sweat glistened along the deep lines of his arms, sliding over sculpted veins that stood out against his skin.
Each exhale was controlled, each movement sharp, like he was trying to silence something inside himself.
But he couldn’t.
Yesterday’s incident replayed in his mind like a reel he couldn’t pause.
Roohi collapsing at his feet.
Her tears.
Her fear.
His family’s shocked silence.
His own words echoing in the hall—“If you don’t accept my marriage, I will leave everything.”
He pushed harder against the weights, jaw tightening.
He had always been calm, rational, composed—a man who controlled situations before they spiraled.
But last night…
Last night he had seen a girl fall apart with the kind of pain that should never belong to someone her age.
And it had done something to him.
He switched to the punching bag, striking with precise, powerful hits.
His chest rose and fell, muscles straining against the force he threw into each punch.
He didn’t regret marrying her.
But he regretted the way his family had reacted—hurt, confused, unprepared.
And he regretted that Roohi believed she was the cause.
His fist collided with the bag in a heavy thud.
No.
She was not the cause.
Circumstances were.
He wiped a hand across his face, took a breath, and finally stopped. But the weight in his chest remained.
He needed to check on her.
On the opposite side of the mansion,
Roohi slowly opened her eyes, staring at the soft cream ceiling above her.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. The bed beneath her felt too soft, the air too scented, the silence too peaceful.
Then memory returned.
The Malhotra mansion.
The marriage.
The family’s reaction.
Her falling at Siddharth’s feet like a broken thing.
She sat up slowly, her fingers clutching the edge of the thick blanket.
The room around her was enormous—far bigger than the tiny, cold space she grew up in. Soft sunlight spilled through ivory curtains, touching the carved furniture, the gold-accented mirror, the chandelier that hung like a cluster of stars above her.
She had spent her life in a room barely measuring six feet wide—cracked walls, a single rusted window, a thin mattress laid on the floor.
There had been no curtains, no warmth, and certainly no sense of belonging.
And now… this.
A room that looked like it belonged in royal stories, not a place for someone like her.
She pulled her knees to her chest. She hadn’t cried last night, but the heaviness hadn’t faded.
Her heart felt tight… ashamed… overwhelmed.
Why did this happen to me?
Why did I drag him into my ruined life?
She didn’t know how to face his family again.
Just as her thoughts spiraled, there was a soft knock on the door.
The door opened before Roohi could respond, revealing Dadi standing there—
her posture straight, her eyes unreadable, but her presence strangely comforting.
“Good morning, roohi,” Dadi said.
Roohi quickly stood up. “G-Good morning, Dadi.”
Dadi stepped in slowly, holding a neatly folded red silk saree.
“I am not here to question you,” she said gently. “I came because… maybe all this is God’s plan.”
Roohi blinked in surprise.
Dadi placed the saree in her hands. “I kept it for my grandsons’ brides. Looks like destiny chose to give it to you first.”
“I—I don’t deserve this,” Roohi whispered, her voice trembling.
Dadi placed a hand on her cheek. “No girl deserves cruelty, Roohi. And no girl is unworthy of respect. Wear this today. Start the morning fresh.”
Roohi swallowed hard, emotion rising in her chest. “Thank you, Dadi.”
“Hmm,” Dadi said softly. “Get ready, beti. The family will gather for breakfast.”
As she left, Roohi stared down at the saree—a deep red silk with delicate gold embroidery.
It felt heavy in her hands, but in a good way… like acceptance.
Or at least, a beginning.
Roohi stood in front of the huge mirror, draping the saree with trembling fingers.
The red silk flowed over her like liquid light, hugging her slender waist, falling in graceful pleats.
She was always called unwanted, invisible, plain.
But in that saree, under the morning sunlight… she looked breathtaking.
Her soft curls brushed her shoulders, her long neck elegant and bare.
The red color brought warmth to her skin, making her look delicate yet striking.
Her eyes—usually clouded with fear—shone with a quiet, fragile beauty.
She adjusted the pallu, revealing a brief glimpse of her slim waist before quickly covering it again.
Just as she fixed the pleats, the door clicked open.
Siddharth entered.
And stopped.
His breath caught.
He had seen countless women in expensive clothing, attending elite events and award nights.
But none had stunned him the way Roohi did in that moment.
She froze, startled, her fingers pausing at her waist.
“I didn’t know you were coming in,” she said softly.
“I… didn’t expect to see you like this,” Siddharth replied, his voice low.
She looked down shyly. “Dadi… gave me this. I wore it because she asked.”
He nodded slowly, still unable to look away.
“Well,” she said, attempting a small smile, “we should go downstairs.”
He stepped bathroom silently, eyes following her as she walked aside.
And for the first time since the marriage, he felt something shift inside him—something he wasn’t ready to name.
The dining hall of the Mehra mansion carried its usual morning discipline—silver cutlery placed perfectly, the soft clinking of cups, the muted elegance of a house that never spoke louder than necessary.
Roohi stepped inside with small, careful steps, her saree pallu pulled slightly forward, as though it offered her courage. Her eyes searched the faces at the table—Rekha, Prakash, —all sitting with silent expressions that weren’t angry, but weren’t welcoming either.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Still… she gathered her voice.
“Good morning,” she greeted softly.
Everyone simply nodded in return.
Not rude… but distant.
Respectful… but cold.
Only Dadi’s face broke into warmth.
“Good morning, roohi,” Dadi said with a gentle smile. Her eyes softened. “You look very beautiful in saree today.”
Roohi’s lips curved, shy and grateful.
But inside, her stomach tightened.
Rekha’s expression—unreadable, sharp—sat across the table.
The tension pressed over Roohi’s shoulders like invisible hands.
Dadi touched her arm lightly.
“Come, beta. Have breakfast.”
Roohi froze, glancing at Rekha reflexively.
Her mother-in-law didn’t glare, she didn’t even frown… but her silence was enough to make Roohi’s fingers tremble.
Seeing her hesitation, Dadi repeated more firmly,
“Sit, beta.”
Roohi obeyed and sat slowly.
She lifted her hand toward the plate… and at the same moment, Rekha placed her bread back on her plate and pushed her chair slightly.
Not in anger—just an instinctive movement.
But to Roohi, it felt like a signal.
Her heart lurched.
Before Rekha could even stand, Roohi rose quickly, forcing a small smile.
“Actually… I only came to wish good morning,” she lied gently.
“I’m not hungry, Dadi.”
Her smile was polite… but her eyes had the cracked shine of someone hiding hurt.
“But beta—” Dadi began.
Then she dipped her head respectfully and walked out of the dining hall with quiet dignity.
A silence followed her exit.
Roohi stopped, stunned for a second—
Siddharth was standing at the hallway entrance, watching her silently.
His eyes held a question.
A concern.
And a helplessness he couldn’t disguise.
Roohi inhaled softly, gathered the broken pieces of her smile and walked away.
Rekha stood as well, ready to leave the table, but Siddharth’s voice stopped her—calm, low, but firm.
“Maa.”
Rekha paused.
Siddharth stepped forward.
His tone did not rise, but it carried weight.
“My mother used to tell me… never show anger on food.”
He held her gaze.
“Please sit. At least finish breakfast.”
Rekha swallowed, surprised by his quiet firmness.
Siddharth signaled to the maid.
“Send breakfast to Roohi’s room,” he said.
Not loudly.
Not emotionally.
Just responsibly.
The maid nodded and hurried away.
Rekha sat back down slowly, and the room shifted into a softer silence—
the kind that comes after someone realises the line between pride and hurting another heart.
And upstairs, behind a closed door, Roohi sat on the bed, fingers pressed to her saree pallu… trying to convince herself that the crack she felt inside wasn’t real.
But it was.
And the house felt it too.
An hour later, Siddharth stood outside his room. He knocked softly before entering.
Roohi was sitting on the bed, untouched breakfast on the table, staring quietly out the window.
He sighed.
"Roohi.”
She turned. “I… I didn’t feel like eating.”
“I know why you left,” he said gently, stepping closer. “My mother just needs time.”
“I understand,” she whispered. “I don’t expect her to accept me. I just… didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
“It felt like I did.”
Siddharth exhaled. “Roohi… I’m sorry you felt unwelcome. That wasn’t my intention.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s your home, your family. I’m the outsider.”
“You’re my wife,” Siddharth replied firmly. “Not an outsider.”
She lowered her eyes, uncertain.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued. “Give them time. And give yourself time too.”
Roohi nodded slowly.
He pointed at the tray. “Now eat something. You need strength.”
Her lips curved in the faintest smile. “Okay.”
Siddharth watched a moment longer—her quiet courage, her fragile presence—and for the first time since the marriage, he felt protective in a way that went beyond duty.
The Malhotra mansion had always been a quiet kingdom in the early afternoons,
especially when the younger two had been missing for three days.
With Ankita and Arjun away on their short impulsive trip, the hallways had been strangely calm.
But that peace broke the moment the main door swung open.
“WE’RE HOME!” Arjun shouted, dropping his bag right at the entrance with the enthusiasm of someone who had conquered the world in 72 hours.
Behind him, Ankita rolled her suitcase in, chattering about some ridiculous incident from their trip, not noticing how still the house was.
“I told you not to put the sunscreen in my bag—”
“And I told you not to finish all the chips—”
“Maa! Dadi! Koi toh—” Arjun called out again.
(“Mom! Dadi! Someone please—!”)
And then they both froze.
Because coming down the staircase, carefully holding her saree pleats, was Roohi.
A girl they had never seen before.
A girl walking out of the second floor.
A girl… from Siddharth’s floor.
Ankita blinked.
Arjun blinked twice.
Both mouths fell open at the exact same second.
The fight froze mid-sentence.
Ankita whispered, “…Who is she?”
Arjun whispered back, “…Ghost?”
Ankita elbowed him, “Idiot!”
Roohi looked at them, nervous and unsure, her steps slowing.
Arjun pointed his finger dramatically.
“Wait—don’t tell me—Papa adopted someone?”
Ankita smacked his shoulder.
“Why would Papa adopt a grown woman?!”
Arjun’s voice rose like a fire alarm.
“WHO— WHO— WHO IS THIS? Koi explain karega?!”
Roohi stopped midway, startled by their loud voices, clutching her pallu nervously.
She had just stepped out briefly to return Dadi’s bindi box… not expecting the two youngest Malhotras to appear like thunder.
Ankita whispered sharply, “Arjun… iske kapde dekh. Saree… red… jewelry. Ye… bahu type outfit hai.”
(“Arjun… look at her clothes. Saree… red… jewelry. This is… a daughter-in-law type outfit.”)
Arjun gasped like someone stabbed him.
“BHABHI TYPE?!”
Roohi’s eyes widened; she took an instinctive step back, overwhelmed.
Before the situation could explode further, Siddharth stepped out from the corridor above.
“What’s happening?” he asked, voice calm but tired.
Both siblings snapped their heads towards him in slow motion.
Arjun pointed at Roohi dramatically.
“BHAI! Three days ke trip pe gaye hum… aur aap— aap— SHAADI KAR KE BAITHE HO?!”
{“BROTHER! We went on a three-day trip… and you—you got MARRIED?!”}
His voice echoed in the marble hall.
Roohi almost dropped the bindi box.
Ankita clutched her chest.
“Three days. THREE. DAYS. Bhai, hum zyada time ruke hote toh kya aap bacche bhi—”
{“Three days. THREE. DAYS. Bhai, if we had stayed longer, would you also have… you know… made babies too?!”}
For a full second, the room froze.
Roohi’s eyes shot wide open, her cheeks turning a soft, blooming pink.
She looked at Siddharth instinctively
and at the same moment, Siddharth looked at her.
Both immediately regretted it.
Roohi jerked her gaze down to the floor, clutching the end of her pallu like it might save her.
Her ears burned red.
Siddharth cleared his throat sharply, jaw tightening, desperately avoiding her eyes now.
“shut up,” he snapped, voice low, clipped, and ten times deeper than usual—
a very obvious embarrassed reaction for a man who never lost control.
She shut up immediately.
Siddharth walked down the stairs slowly until he stood beside Roohi, a silent wall of calm.
“Arjun, Ankita,” he said, voice steady. “This is Roohi. My wife.”
The shock level increased tenfold.
Arjun stumbled back as if Siddharth had slapped him.
“W— WIFE?”
“WIFE?” Ankita echoed, eyes popping.
Both stared at Roohi again.
Roohi looked down, shy and uncomfortable.
Arjun grabbed his head dramatically.
“Hum bas chhota sa Goa trip gaye the. Chhota sa! Aapne toh pura jeevan palat diya!”
{“We only went on a small Goa trip. A tiny one! And you changed your entire life!”}
Ankita whispered, “Bhai… kya aapne hume batana zaruri nahi samjha?”
{“Bhai… did you not think it was important to INFORM us?”}
Siddharth’s jaw tightened for a second.
“This wasn’t a planned celebration. It was a situation.”
Arjun’s expression changed immediately.
“SITUATION matlab? Aap forcing mein—?”
{“Situation? What situation? Were you forced—?”}
“No,” Siddharth interrupted with a colder tone. “I married her to protect her .”
Silence.
Arjun’s mouth slowly closed.
Ankita’s eyes softened.
Before they could ask more, Dadi walked in with her prayer beads.
“Oh good, you both came,” she said, relieved. “Come sit. Bohot kuch batana hai.”
The tension dropped immediately. All three sat in the living room, listening as Dadi narrated everything—from the scandal, to the marriage, to Rekha’s hurtful behaviour at breakfast that morning.
As the story finished, Arjun flopped back on the sofa, face pale.
“Poor girl,” he muttered.
Ankita frowned deeply. “She must be so scared. Imagine walking into a house where no one smiles at you.”
Roohi sat in her room near the window, fingers twisting the corner of her dupatta.
She wasn’t crying. She just looked small, quiet, tired. Her first morning in the Malhotra mansion had already gone wrong, and guilt hung on her like weight.
When footsteps approached, she tensed.
The door knocked twice.
“Can we come in?” Ankita’s voice asked—oddly serious.
Roohi stood immediately. “Ji… come.”
Ankita and Arjun entered with faces so still and expressionless that Roohi instantly stiffened.
They looked like judges.
Arjun walked around her slowly, inspecting her like she was a museum piece.
Ankita crossed her arms and stared straight into her eyes.
Neither smiled.
“Name?” Arjun demanded.
“R—Roohi,” she whispered.
“Age?” Ankita asked coldly.
“Twenty-one.”
Arjun leaned closer. “Hobbies?”
Roohi blinked nervously.
“I… I read books.”
Arjun nodded dramatically as if this confirmed a criminal record.
Then he stepped back and asked the most absurd question of all:
“Tum… aliens mein believe karti ho?”
Roohi froze. “What?”
Ankita added, stoically,
“Black magic? Do you know any?”
Roohi shook her head quickly, hands trembling. “N—No.”
Arjun squinted.
“Toh phir bhai ko shaadi ke liye kaise mana liya? Teen din mein? Jadu toh nahi kiya na?”
{“Then how did you convince Bhai for marriage? In three days? Did you do magic on him or what?”}
Roohi’s heart almost stopped.
And then—
Both of them broke.
Arjun burst into laughter first, loud and uncontrolled.
Ankita followed, doubling over, clutching her stomach.
Roohi stared, bewildered
Arjun wiped a tear of laughter.
“Oh god—look at her face! She thought we were interrogating her for real!”
Ankita shook her head, laughing.
“Roohi, relax! We were messing with you!”
Slowly, Roohi’s fear melted into a tiny confused smile.
Ankita walked closer, her expression softening.
“Don’t be scared of us. We’re not like… you know…”
She hesitated, choosing her words.
“We were shocked at first, bas. But ab… you’re our bhabhi.”
Roohi looked down. “Aap mujhe yeh kehne ki zaroorat nahi… main samajh sakti hoon. Yeh sab—unexpected tha.”
{“You don’t need to explain it to me… I can understand. All of this was… unexpected.”}
Ankita touched her arm gently.
“Unexpected doesn’t mean unwelcome.”
Roohi’s throat tightened.
Arjun sat cross-legged on the floor dramatically.
“Bhabhi, if anyone bothers you na, I am here. Main sabko line pe le aaunga.”
{“Bhabhi, if anyone troubles you, I’m here. I’ll put everyone in line.”}
She let out a small laugh—just a breath, but it was the first genuine one since yesterday.
Ankita brightened instantly.
“See! She finally smiled!”
Arjun clapped once. “Victory!”
They sat with her on the bed, talking lightly.
Arjun told her funny stories from their trip.
Ankita complimented the saree, then her hair, then her shy smile.
Slowly, carefully, Roohi began to relax.
And that is when Ankita said softly,
“Bhabhi… you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Roohi swallowed hard, emotion rising.
“Thank you. For being… kind.”
Ankita squeezed her hand.
“We’re family now. That’s what family does.”
Siddharth stood at the doorway for a long moment, saying nothing.
The faint smile on Roohi’s lips—small, hesitant, but finally real—
felt like sunlight appearing through a room that had been locked for years.
Ankita was teasing Arjun, Arjun was dramatically narrating something,
and Roohi…
Roohi was listening.
Relaxing.
Breathing easier than she had since she entered this house.
For the first time since the rushed wedding, Siddharth felt a strange ache of relief settle inside him.
Maybe she wasn’t completely alone here.
Maybe she wouldn’t always look this lost.
And as he watched her laugh softly at one of Arjun’s ridiculous stories,
a thought escaped him—quiet, uninvited, impossible to ignore:
“She’s trying.
And so should I.”
“Sometimes, the smallest smile is enough to prove that healing has begun.”
___________________________✨“Until the next chapter… happy reading.”
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