Kavya’s bohemian charm was impossible to ignore. In the heart of corporate corridors filled with muted tones and polished etiquette, she stood out like a splash of colour on a grayscale canvas. Her expressive style, radiant confidence, and effortless grace often became the subject of admiration at office gatherings. Though she had just begun her career at a multinational company after completing her MBA in Marketing, she carried herself with the poise of someone deeply in tune with who she was. For Kavya, being bold wasn’t a choice, it was her nature. An extrovert in every sense, her vibrancy wasn’t curated for attention, it was simply authentic.
Her friends had seen this spirit in her for years. From school through college, Kavya had always been the one who could light up a room. She connected effortlessly across generations, whether chatting with professors, comforting relatives, or befriending strangers. Her voice, a gift she nurtured through music, only added to her magnetic presence. Whether dressed in flowing Western outfits or draped in a traditional saree, she personified a rare blend of modern flair and timeless elegance.
During her student years, she had no shortage of admirers. Many boys were drawn to her intelligence, independence, and self-assurance, often admiring her from afar. The fact that she drove herself to college, a rare sight among her friends, only added to her standout persona. Yet Kavya never let admiration interfere with genuine connection. She maintained close friendships with both boys and girls, always grounded in warmth and sincerity.
But what truly set Kavya apart was her heart. From a young age, she was involved with an old-age home, cycling around town to collect donations. As she grew older, she harnessed the power of social media to raise funds, not for recognition but out of a deep, instinctive desire to help. Compassion wasn’t something she learned, it was something she lived.
This same spirit carried into her weekends, where she would visit ICARE, the hospital founded by her parents, Dr. Arundhuti, a renowned thoracic surgeon, and Dr. Sameer, a leading cardiac surgeon. ICARE wasn’t just a medical institution; it was a dream born during their student days, built with the intention of serving those in need. Thanks to their financial stability, they were able to offer treatments at little or no cost, earning immense respect from the less financial affordable community.
Kavya’s presence at ICARE was cherished. On Saturdays and Sundays, she would walk through the wards, speaking with patients, listening to their stories, and offering encouragement. Her visits became a source of joy, something patients looked forward to. With her guitar slung over her shoulder, she sang songs that spanned generations, from soulful classics to upbeat melodies. Her music didn’t just entertain, it healed. It reminded patients of life beyond illness, of memories and hope.
Importantly, Kavya was always mindful of the hospital’s sanctity. She never disrupted medical procedures or crossed professional boundaries. Her visits were coordinated with the staff, and she knew exactly when to step back and when to lean in.
Despite her many gifts, beauty, talent, intellect, and charisma, Kavya remained deeply humble. Her grounded nature was a reflection of the values instilled by her parents, who encouraged her to be bold and independent while staying rooted in tradition. They believed that cultural grounding would give her the resilience to face life’s challenges and Kavya embodied that belief with grace.
Kavya’s infectious friendliness had always been her superpower. It helped her build connections effortlessly, across departments, age groups, and even hierarchies. Her network grew rapidly, and with it came encounters that were both expected and surprising. One such encounter was with Vihan.
By all standards, Vihan was her opposite. Reserved, introspective, and quietly focused, he was a mechanical engineer and MBA in Business Analytics, just beginning to carve out his professional path. He was undeniably handsome and carried himself with a quiet dignity that intrigued Kavya. Their paths often crossed at the company’s bustling cafeteria, a melting pot for executives and freshers alike. Each time they met, there was a polite nod from Vihan, a subtle gesture that said “hello” without words. Occasionally, they exchanged a few pleasantries, asking about each other’s day, sharing a smile, but nothing more.
Yet something about those brief interactions lingered with Kavya. Over time, she found herself thinking about him more often than she expected. There was a quiet magnetism in his demeanour, and she couldn’t help but wonder if opposites really did attract. His calmness complemented her exuberance with unexpected ease.
Days turned into weeks, and Vihan remained a gentle presence in her thoughts. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming, just a quiet curiosity that grew stronger with each passing encounter. Eventually, Kavya decided she couldn’t keep wondering. She needed to know if the connection she felt was mutual. So, with her signature boldness and grace, she chose to take a step forward and find out if Vihan can see her as more than just a “Hi” acquaintance.
One afternoon, during lunch break, Kavya gathered her courage and approached Vihan with a quiet but direct request: “Would you be open for a coffee after office hours?” Vihan, taken slightly aback, asked with gentle curiosity, “Any particular reason?” Kavya smiled and replied, “I’ll tell you when we meet.”
Though hesitant, Vihan agreed, and Kavya suggested a cozy coffee shop tucked away just fifteen minutes from the office, a place far removed from the corporate buzz. That evening, she arrived early, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Ten minutes later, Vihan walked in, composed yet visibly curious.
As they settled in, Kavya took a deep breath and shared what had been on her mind for days. She expressed her feelings, honest, heartfelt, and unfiltered. Vihan was stunned. He hadn’t seen it coming, and for a moment, words escaped him. But soon, he regained his composure and responded with sincerity. “This is unexpected,” he said, “and maybe a bit early to commit to anything. We would like to know each other better. Let’s meet after work more often and see where this leads.”
Kavya nodded, her smile reflecting both relief and understanding. She hadn’t expected instant answers, just honesty and openness. Like Vihan, she believed in weighing things thoughtfully, letting time reveal what was meant to be.
As Kavya and Vihan’s courtship quietly began to blossom, not everyone around them was convinced it made sense. Friends from Kavya’s school days to her corporate circle voiced their doubts, often remarking that she was far too vibrant and striking to be paired with someone like Vihan. Some men, in particular, whispered that she deserved someone more conventionally charming, someone who matched her charisma and presence.
On Vihan’s side, the reactions were mixed. A few friends, driven by envy, subtly discouraged him. Others, more sincere and familiar with his reserved nature, cautioned him gently. They worried he might struggle to keep pace with Kavya’s spirited lifestyle, her social ease, and the effortless way she lit up wherever she was. The difference in their backgrounds added another layer of concern, Kavya came from a well-established, affluent family, while Vihan belonged to a modest, above-average middle-class household. To some, it felt like a mismatch in status and temperament.
But love, as it often does, had its own rhythm. As days turned into weeks, Kavya and Vihan grew closer, seemingly untouched by the scepticism around them. They chose to listen to their hearts rather than the noise. The doubts of others faded into the background. What mattered to them was the connection they shared, quiet, evolving, and deeply personal.
Kavya’s visits to the hospital had become less frequent, but her love for Vihan was no longer a secret within those walls. One Saturday, while Vihan was away attending a family function, Kavya seized the chance to drop by the hospital.
As always, her excitement carried her floor to floor, greeting familiar faces. On the third floor, her eyes fell upon a young woman who stood out immediately, her radiant smile and sparkling eyes shone brightly, even with a bandage wrapped around her head.
Kavya approached, and the girl, out of sheer respect, tried to rise from her bed to greet her. Kavya quickly stopped her with a gentle hand, urging her to remain seated. Up close, the girl looked even more beautiful.
“What’s your name?” Kavya asked warmly.
“Tuhina,” came the soft reply. The name itself delighted Kavya, it sounded as graceful as the person before her.
Curious, she asked, “And what happened to your head?”
With a faint laugh, Tuhina explained, “I slipped and fell. Needed a few stitches.” But before Kavya could say more, Tuhina’s excitement bubbled over.
“I heard a lot about you,” she said eagerly, “the nurses and even some patients often speak of you. They say your presence fills the hospital with such liveliness. Indeed, you’re so graceful… so beautiful. They tell us how you cheer people up, sometimes even sing for them, and that your voice is truly lovely. You carry the same warmth and humility that Sir and Madam show to every patient. May you always stay blessed.”
Kavya listened, almost entranced, as Tuhina spoke from the heart. She wished her a speedy recovery, promising to visit again soon. Deeply touched, Kavya found herself instantly drawn to Tuhina’s charm and before leaving, she even took down her mobile number.
That evening, as the family gathered around the dinner table, just as they did every day, Kavya could hardly contain her excitement. She eagerly began talking about Tuhina, the girl she had met at the hospital.
But to her surprise, her parents didn’t share her enthusiasm. Instead, they exchanged a quiet, heavy glance, saying nothing. Kavya paused, suddenly unsure. Am I overreacting? she wondered aloud.
Her father, Sameer, finally broke the silence. “Kavya… she wasn’t just hurt from a fall. Her husband hit her with a rod. She needed five stitches on her forehead. Thankfully, nothing more serious happened, but she is under observation for five days. What you saw today is her recovering self. We even ran an MRI, thankfully, nothing alarming showed up. She also has a little boy, just two years old.”
Kavya froze, stunned by the truth. How could someone who spoke with such warmth and carried such a radiant smile be hiding so much pain? Why did she lie to me?
Her parents quietly added, “She’ll likely be discharged in three or four days… hopefully nothing unfortunate happens to her again.”
The next morning, Kavya chose to accompany her parents to the hospital. She had already made up her mind, she would spend the first half of the day there and later join Vihan.
Before leaving, however, her parents cautioned her firmly. “Kavya, don’t take any step on your own without discussing with us,” they reminded. “Tuhina belongs to the LIG housing colony. A single wrong move could create complications, ones that may not be easy to manage. Remember, we are running a hospital where patients with all kinds of critical conditions who rely on us. We have responsibilities, and everything we do must reflect that.”
When Kavya stepped into the hospital, her usual warmth and cheerful greetings were nowhere to be seen. Skipping the elevator, she dashed up to the third floor with lightning speed and came to a sudden halt, standing face-to-face with Tuhina, her gaze unwavering.
The room was gripped by a heavy silence. Kavya, struggling to rein in her anger, spoke with a firm edge, “Why did you lie to me, Tuhina?” Her voice, though controlled, carried the weight of betrayal. Tuhina didn’t respond, her head bowed low, as silent tears slipped down her cheeks and soaked into the wrapper draped around her.
Without a word, Kavya turned on her heel and descended the stairs, her steps brisk and unwavering. At the reception desk, she placed the car key, then walked out of the hospital, her silence louder than any explanation.
Kavya dialled Vihaan’s number. No answer, he was deep in his Sunday slumber, blissfully unaware. She tried again. Then once more. On the third ring, he finally picked up, groggy and confused. What he heard wasn’t urgency or frustration, but a calm, steady voice: “Can we meet now?” Vihaan could sense from her tone that something was off, she wasn’t her usual self. Gently, he asked for some time to get ready and meet. Kavya paused, then quietly agreed.
Two years of dating, Kavya shared her wish to marry Vihaan with her parents. Though supportive at heart, they voiced concerns, wondering if she could truly align with the mindset of Vihaan’s family and navigate the differing outlooks. It was clear that such a union would demand significant adjustment from her. But love had cast its spell, and Kavya, unwavering in her conviction, assured them she would embrace every challenge. She promised, with quiet strength, that their dignity would never be compromised.
The wedding was a grand affair, steeped in tradition and celebration. Kavya’s parents, however, were careful not to go overboard mindful of maintaining balance and ensuring Vihaan’s family felt comfortable. As the ceremonies ended and the guests departed, Kavya stepped into a new phase of life. The shift from her spacious bungalow to Vihaan’s modest flat was a change in itself, and she could already sense the adjustments ahead.
After a couple of weeks, Vihaan’s relatives and in-laws returned to their hometowns, where both his parents held jobs. They had welcomed Kavya warmly and left her with kind words and blessings. At home, the daily routine was supported by Kamla, a long-time helper who had been working at Vihaan’s flat for over five years. She handled breakfast, mopped the floors, washed utensils in the morning, and returned in the evening to cook dinner.
Kamla was friendly but noticeably inquisitive, bombarding Kavya with questions when she first arrived. Though it made Kavya slightly uncomfortable, she responded with grace and patience. Kamla had a key to the flat and was clearly a trusted presence in the household.
On a weekend, Kavya’s parents invited the couple to spend at their home. Surprisingly, Vihaan was more enthusiastic than Kavya, eager for a break from Kamla’s cooking, Kavya’s cuisine experimentation, and the monotony of their routine.
When they arrived, Kavya was taken aback to see Tuhina, her parents had never mentioned during their calls. The moment Tuhina spotted the couple; she hurried to the kitchen and got a sweet dish to mark Kavya and Vihaan’s first visit after marriage. Kavya’s parents lovingly fed the couple a spoonful, and in a heartfelt gesture, Kavya pulled Tuhina close and fed her one too. Emotion welled up, moved beyond words.
Her parents watched silently, comforted that Kavya held no bitterness about Tuhina working in their home. Vihaan, already aware of the background through Kavya, wasn’t caught off guard, he understood the depth of the moment and quietly respected it.
Over the weekend, Vihaan and Kavya’s father shared some light-hearted moments, bonding over various topics especially cricket, a passion they both enjoyed. Meanwhile, Kavya’s mother opened up about why Tuhina had been brought on to help at home. Tuhina was in financial need, raising a two-year-old son whom she hoped to educate in an English-medium school. Kavya’s mother had even helped enrol the child in a Montessori believing it would offer a better environment.
During a quiet moment, Kavya gently asked Tuhina if her husband was abusive. Tuhina denied but admitted she had lied earlier about the head injury and sincerely apologized, promising never to mislead her again. She explained that her husband worked in a logistics department, handling the loading and unloading of chemical products. At times, he wouldn’t return home, claiming to be working overtime. When Kavya asked how she could be sure he was telling the truth, Tuhina simply said, “Somewhere, I have to believe.”
On the professional front, Kavya’s trajectory continued to rise. Following her annual appraisal, she was promoted to report directly to the Marketing Head, a recognition of her exceptional performance and creative vision. Her bold, innovative ideas were reshaping the marketing landscape, setting new benchmarks, and challenging industry norms.
One of her standout campaigns, a sharp, two-minute video, went viral across social media and drew praise from television audiences as well. The impact was immediate: sales of the flagship product surged dramatically. Kavya’s name was now steadily gaining prominence, marked as a creative force and a rising star in the marketing world.
Vihaan’s professional journey wasn’t marked by glamour or spotlight, but by quiet consistency and trust. He managed multiple high-value projects, each running into crores, with precision and reliability. Within his company, he earned the nickname “Mr. Dependable,” a testament to his unwavering dedication and sharp acumen in handling prestigious assignments with finesse.
Kavya’s role demanded frequent travel. While Vihaan was equally immersed in his high-stakes projects, he gradually began to feel her absence. Even when she was in town, Kavya’s schedule was relentless. With back-to-back product launches and campaign rollouts, late nights became routine.
Dinner plans were often missed. She’d promise to join Vihaan at home or meet him at a restaurant, only to cancel last-minute due to unexpected work. On some evenings, she’d ask him to come by her office so they could leave together, but he’d end up waiting over an hour, only to be told she couldn’t make it, and he should head home alone. More often than not, Kavya was dropped home by her boss, a detail that didn’t escape the watchful eyes of the neighbours.
Kamla, their household helper, became an unintentional broadcaster of their tensions. Morning arguments between Kavya and Vihaan gave her plenty to share with other homes she worked in. As their first anniversary approached, the cracks had deepened. Vihaan grew increasingly irritable, and silence replaced conversation. Breakfasts were skipped, and small fights became a daily routine.
Though Kavya and Vihaan were deeply committed to their professional lives, personal tensions simmered beneath the surface. Yet, they never let those struggles spill into their work. With quiet determination, they continued to meet their responsibilities, even as both desired for a sense of comfort and connection.
Their parents, sensitive as they are, may have sensed that all was not well. But the couple chose silence over vulnerability. Whenever their parents called to check in, Kavya and Vihaan painted a picture of perfection, hiding the cracks behind carefully chosen words and composed tones.
One afternoon, while Kavya was at work, she received a sudden call from her mother, Tuhina had been admitted to the hospital with multiple injuries. Without a moment’s hesitation, Kavya rushed there, her heart pounding. What she saw was devastating: Tuhina’s feet were swollen, her hands bruised, her neck bore marks of strangulation, and her back was covered in wounds. Conscious but shaken, Tuhina broke down the moment she saw Kavya.
Through sobs, she recounted the horrifying events. Her husband had come home with another woman, married. The sight was humiliating and enraging. When Tuhina confronted him, a violent fight broke out. He beat her mercilessly, and had it not been for neighbours who intervened, she might not have survived. In a cruel outburst, he threw out all her belongings and denied their child was his, demanding the boy be taken away. That accusation struck a nerve. Furious at his filthy language and the insult to her integrity, Tuhina lunged at him. He lifted her and hurled her out of the house, but thankfully, people nearby caught her just in time, saving her from what could have been a fatal fall.
Burning with anger, Kavya asked, “Where is your son?” Tuhina replied that an elderly woman living alone in another wing of the housing colony had taken him in temporarily. Kavya said firmly, “You focus on getting treated. I’ll speak to your husband. What he’s done is not simply wrong, it’s criminal.”
As Kavya stood to leave, Tuhina clutched her hand and pleaded, “Please, for my child’s sake, don’t take any action against him.” Kavya was stunned. “Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. Tuhina, eyes filled with pain and resignation, said, “Our laws do not favour poor people like me, they don’t work. They’re meant for the rich.”
Kavya tried to reason, “No laws are meant for all.” But Tuhina continued, “If political groups get involved, they’ll exploit me. I’m vulnerable. Please, don’t act.”
Kavya turned to her mother, searching for clarity. Her mother nodded gently, silently agreeing with Tuhina’s plea. Kavya sank into the chair, overwhelmed, trying to process the injustice and helplessness unfolding before her eyes.
Kavya found herself caught in a deep dilemma. Vihaan’s irritation was growing with each passing day, and Kamla, ever observant, seemed almost amused by the tension between the couple, ready to relay every outburst to the neighbourhood. At work, the pressure was relentless. Kavya pushed herself harder than ever, knowing her contributions were valued and that stepping back wasn’t an option.
Yet, beneath the surface, her mind was clouded by the trauma of Tuhina’s marriage, its violence, its helplessness. It lingered like a shadow, refusing to fade. Questioning herself is marriage meant to be “Tolerant” and excuse husband’s wrong doings and presumptions. With everything closing in, strained relationship, mounting responsibilities, and emotional weight, Kavya felt, in one word, “miserable.”
One evening, a rare moment, Kavya and Vihaan sat down to dine together. As they began eating, Vihaan remarked, “Since you’re late almost every day, you take the car. I’ll manage on my own.”
Kavya, casually brushing it off, replied, “Don’t worry, my boss drops me home.”
Vihaan’s tone sharpened. “No, I insist, you take the car.”
Kavya looked up, puzzled. “Why are you insisting?”
Vihaan’s voice grew firmer. “You come home late, but I’m the one who faces the questions. Neighbours talk, even Kamla throws sarcastic comments.”
Kavya clenched her fists under the table, holding back a surge of anger. “You know the truth, Vihaan. You know exactly what’s going on. So why do you hesitate to defend me? How can Kamla’s words carry more weight than mine?”
She continued, her voice steady but wounded. “People in all localities thrive on gossip. If we let it affect us, it will. But if we stand firm, they’ll eventually fall silent. We live in a society, yes, but we don’t have to be ruled by it. We need to be strong together. At the end of the day, we both want a peaceful, comfortable life.”
Then, with a tremble in her voice, she asked, “Vihaan… do you doubt my integrity?”
Vihaan said nothing.
Kavya stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up in her eyes. She repeated, more forcefully, “Are you accusing me of having an affair with my boss?”
Vihan still, silent.
Her vision blurred with tears. Her thoughts scattered. The man she loved more than life itself was questioning her character. And in that moment, something inside her broke.
The next morning, Kavya sat quietly, hoping Vihaan would come to her, perhaps with an apology, or at least a gesture of remorse for his silence the night before. She longed for a moment that might help them reconnect, something to pull her back toward emotional balance. But to her dismay, Vihaan simply walked out. He didn’t stop for breakfast, didn’t glance in her direction, didn’t acknowledge her presence as she sat watching him, waiting. The silence was louder than words, and it throbbed.
Feeling fragile and emotionally drained, Kavya quietly stepped into the bedroom and began packing her suitcase. The growing rift between her and Vihaan had left her with little choice, returning to her mother’s home felt like the only refuge. For years, she had seen herself as a strong, independent woman, but in that moment, she felt powerless, yearning for the comfort of her own people.
Her dreams, once vivid and full of promise, now felt like distant illusions. The warnings from friends who had cautioned her against marriage echoed painfully in her mind. The image of Vihaan as the ideal husband had begun to crumble, replaced by a reality she could no longer ignore.
Kamla, the household helper, watched silently as Kavya walked out with her suitcase. Kavya didn’t offer a word. Kavya’s silence was not just exhaustion; it was the quiet anguish of someone who had been deeply misunderstood.
The silence in Kavya’s home was so heavy, even the faintest sound felt amplified, like a pin dropping in a cathedral. Her parents had rushed back from the hospital to be there for her, sensing the storm she carried within.
Suddenly, Kavya turned to Tuhina and shouted, “Go tell everyone, Kavya and Vihaan’s marriage is over!” Her voice trembled with anguish. Her mother gently signalled Tuhina not to take it to heart.
Kavya then collapsed into her father’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’ve lost, Dad… I’ve utterly lost…” she cried, her voice breaking under the weight of heartbreak. It wasn’t just the end of a relationship; it felt like the unravelling of a dream she had once believed in.
Kavya returned to the office the next day, looking pale and withdrawn, a shadow of her usual vibrant self. It was evident to everyone that something was weighing her down. When colleagues gently asked if she was all right, she brushed it off with a quiet “I’m fine.”
Her boss, noticing the change, approached her with concern. Though hesitant at first, Kavya quickly composed herself, reminding herself she had done nothing wrong. She spoke directly about the day’s tasks, steering the conversation away from anything personal. When advised to take the day off and rest, she politely declined.
She skipped lunch. She avoided conversations, laughter, and the light-hearted banter that once defined her presence. Kavya was there, but not truly. The warmth, the spark, the energy that people admired in her had dimmed.
As the days went by, Kavya began bringing her own lunch to avoid the canteen altogether. A few colleagues, out of concern and solidarity, started doing the same to keep her company, but she gently declined their gesture. Vihaan, too, was noticeably absent from the canteen, and it didn’t take long for people to sense that something was amiss between the two.
Whispers turned into quiet concern, and some tried to reach out to Kavya on a more personal level, hoping to offer support. But she, with composed grace, made it clear that she preferred to keep her boundaries intact. Her silence spoke volumes, firm, dignified, and unmistakably private.
It was a quiet Sunday, over a week since Kavya had returned to her parents’ home. That morning, Arundhati received a call from Vihaan’s mother. She hesitated for a moment before answering, unsure of what the conversation might hold. After a polite exchange of pleasantries, Vihaan’s mother gently asked about Kavya’s health.
Vihaan, it seemed, had told her that Kavya was staying with her parents because she wasn’t feeling well, carefully concealing the real reason behind her departure. The truth remained unspoken, tucked away behind a veil of concern.
Despite her parents gently urging her to return the call out of courtesy, Kavya firmly declined to speak with Vihaan’s mother. Her refusal was resolute, she wasn’t ready to engage, not after everything that had unfolded.
Another week had quietly passed when Tuhina arrived late for work. Kavya’s mother gently asked what had happened, but the morning moved on with each person managing their breakfast in silence. Kavya’s parents left first, and as Kavya prepared to leave, she stepped into the kitchen, only to find Tuhina sobbing uncontrollably.
Alarmed, Kavya rushed to her side. “Tuhina, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Tuhina clung to her and broke down, her words tumbling out between sobs. “My husband… he has demanded I return everything he ever gave me, even my jewellery.”
Kavya’s eyes widened. “Why did you give it back?”
“He threatened me,” Tuhina whispered. “Said if I refused, he’d send goons. They could do anything to me, to my child.”
Kavya’s voice turned firm. “If he wants a divorce, it must be through proper legal channels. He’s obligated to provide alimony. That’s the law.”
Tuhina shook her head, her voice heavy with resignation. “Those laws don’t apply to people like us. I’m living for my son now. I’ll work hard, do whatever it takes for his future.”
Then, with a bitter smile, she added, “Those women are lucky enough to have understanding, good husbands.” Realizing the weight of her words, she quickly apologized, “I didn’t mean it applies to everyone.”
Kavya pulled her into a hug, her own heart aching. “It’s all right, Tuhina. We’re in the same boat now.”
In that quiet kitchen, two women, worlds apart in background but bound by somewhat common pain, found a moment of shared destiny.
Nearly a month had passed, and that morning, Arundhati was seated at the dining table, unusually relaxed. Kavya, surprised to see her mother not rushing off, asked, “Mom, aren’t you going to hospital today?”
Arundhati replied promptly, “No, not today. I’ve got some things to sort out at home. I’ve called our CA to help with a few reconciliations; I wanted to handle it calmly without distractions. He’ll be here in an hour.”
Kavya mentioned she’d like to work from home as well, adding with a smile, “It’s been ages since we spent some proper mother-daughter time together.”
Her mother, ever practical, replied with a chuckle, “I’ve got work to do, Kavya, not here for chit-chat and time pass!”
As they sat together for breakfast, Arundhati paused and gently asked, “Kavya, have you called Vihaan?”
Kavya replied quietly, “No.”
Her mother sighed and said, “When we marry, we must learn to set our egos aside. We raised you to be independent and encouraged your liberal thinking, but true liberalism doesn’t leave room for ego battles.”
Kavya interjected, “He hasn’t called either. Why is it that male egos are always justified, but not ours?”
Arundhati responded calmly but firmly, “This isn’t about man versus woman, it’s about husband and wife. There’s no first or second here. How do you know he isn’t regretting his actions, just unsure how to reach out? If you want to keep playing the ego game, then be prepared for the relationship to end. But if you want resolution, someone has to take the first step.”
She continued, “Women often mature faster in relationships. Just look at your father and me, we’ve had our share of disagreements, but most of the time I chose to let go, and that’s what kept us together. Maybe Vihaan acted out of confusion or under someone’s influence. Giving him a chance might be wiser than shutting the door.”
Arundhati’s voice softened. “We hear stories every day, marriages breaking over trivial or serious issues, with neither side willing to bend. If you let this go without trying, it’ll just be another statistic. As your parents, we’ve lived through our own storms. And as your mother, I’m asking you to take the first step.”
Kavya quietly retreated to her room, her mother’s words echoing in her mind: “Curbing egos is a sign of maturity.” Vihaan had always held a special place in her heart, and now, her thoughts blurred. Without thinking further, she picked up her phone and dialled his number.
He answered on the second ring.
Silence hung between them, thick, heavy, and telling.
Breaking it, Kavya asked directly, “Why didn’t you call?”
Vihaan replied softly, “I didn’t have the courage. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
Kavya swallowed hard. Her mother had been right.
She asked gently, “How are you?”
“Not good,” Vihaan admitted.
“Is Kamla coming?” she asked.
“No,” he said quietly. “I asked her to leave the day you left.”
Concern crept into her voice. “Then what are you eating for breakfast and dinner?”
Vihaan didn’t respond.
“Hello? Talk to me,” she urged.
He finally spoke. “I skip breakfast, no time. I clean the house myself before leaving for work. Lunch is at the office. Dinner… I usually just have something light. Fruits, cornflakes, whatever’s easy.”
Kavya’s phone grew damp in her hands, tears streaming down her face as she listened to the Vihaan she had missed for weeks. The vulnerability in his voice, the quiet suffering, it pierced through her.
Sensing her silence, Vihaan asked, “Can you forgive me? Just once. I love you so much. I’m sorry… my mind just stopped working. Instead of understanding your work and your late hours, I accused you unfairly. If you can give me one more chance, I promise I won’t let you down.”
Kavya couldn’t hold back anymore. Her tears flowed freely. Through sobs, she whispered, “Will you come home for dinner tonight?”
Vihaan, moved but trying to stay composed since at office, replied softly, “Yes.”
Kavya suddenly began shouting, “Mummy! Mummy!” Her voice echoed through the house. Arundhati, in the middle of a meeting with the CA, didn’t hear it at first, but Tuhina did. She rushed to Kavya’s room, and seeing her tearfully elated, quickly informed Arundhati.
Arundhati hurried in to find Kavya lying on the cot, visibly dazed. Kavya gently pulled her mother’s hand and helped her lie down properly on the bed. “Kavya, the CA is here. What happened? Why are you so urgent?” she asked, concerned.
Kavya’s tearful eyes gave her mother the answer before words did. Arundhati sensed it immediately; she had spoken to Vihaan.
Kavya hugged her tightly and whispered, “I’ve invited Vihaan for dinner tonight.”
A quiet smile formed on Arundhati’s face, a wave of relief washing over her. “Good,” she said softly, then turned to Tuhina, “Let’s plan what to cook for Vihaan tonight.”
Still wrapped in her mother’s arms, Kavya lingered in the embrace. Arundhati gently stroked her hair and said, “Alright now, I need to get back, the CA is waiting.”
Kavya kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered, “Thank you… for your advice.”
Arundhati stood up, composed, and told Tuhina, “Bring tea for the CA and me. Ask Kavya if she’d like some too. And see she wants to talk to you.”
Tuhina entered the room quietly; her gentle smile laced with tears. Kavya, equally emotional, welcomed her with a soft nod. The two sat together, deciding on the dinner menu for the evening.
As they planned, Tuhina hesitated and shared a concern. “I usually return home by evening to be with my son. I can’t leave him alone with the elderly lady with whom we are staying,” she said, her voice tinged with worry.
Kavya immediately reassured her, “No problem at all. Bring him along.”
Still, Tuhina wanted to be sure Arundhati was comfortable with the arrangement. When asked, Kavya’s mother readily agreed.
With everything settled, Tuhina confirmed she’d arrive by 6:00 p.m., carrying all the ingredients for dinner and her little one by her side. It was a small moment of warmth in a day filled with emotion.
Around 6:00 p.m., Tuhina arrived with bags full of ingredients, fresh vegetables, chicken, and fish. But what caught Kavya and Arundhati’s eyes wasn’t the groceries, it was the little boy beside her, a tiny figure with a bag slung across his shoulders, gazing at them with wide, curious eyes.
He glanced at Tuhina, and with just a look from her, understood. Quietly, he walked over to Arundhati and touched her feet with innocent reverence. Arundhati, moved by the gesture, immediately scooped him into her arms and hugged him warmly. It was the first time both she and Kavya were seeing him.
Kavya gently took him from her mother and playfully pinched his cheeks. He was a mirror image of Tuhina, sweet, expressive, and full of charm. Kavya felt a surge of pride for Tuhina, who had clearly made an effort to dress her son neatly in a new shirt and pants, wanting him to look presentable. In her rush, though, she’d forgotten to remove the tag from the shirt.
“What’s in your bag?” Kavya asked softly.
The boy pulled out a slate and chalk. Meanwhile, Tuhina had already slipped into the kitchen, beginning her preparations.
Kavya removed the tag from his shirt and sat beside him. “What’s your name?” she asked.
He whispered shyly, “Gopal.”
Of course, Tuhina’s deep devotion to Lord Krishna made the name feel perfectly chosen.
Kavya lifted him onto her lap and asked what he was learning. He began writing numbers— “1, 2…”—on his slate. As she watched, tears welled up and fell silently onto the slate surface.
Gopal looked up and said in his innocent voice, “Water is falling on the slate.”
Kavya quickly wiped it with her dupatta, whispering, “Sorry.”
Her heart ached. Little Gopal, so unaware of the storm his mother was weathering, sat there at peace in his beautiful world, while Tuhina, with unwavering strength, fighting every day to raise him to be a kind, dignified human being.
The doorbell rang at 8:15 p.m., and a wave of tension swept through the room. Everyone exchanged nervous glances, but Arundhati quickly composed herself and went to open the door.
Vihaan stood there, holding a packet and a bouquet of flowers. He looked noticeably pale, thinner than before, yet still carried the quiet charm Kavya had fallen for. Without hesitation, he bent down to touch Arundhati’s feet. She blessed him warmly. Then he walked over to Kavya’s father, touched his feet too, and was pulled into a tight embrace.
He nodded politely to Tuhina, who had just stepped out of the kitchen, but his eyes were scanning the room, searching for Kavya. He turned and finally saw her, seated with little Gopal on her lap, her chin resting gently on the child’s head. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to pause.
Vihaan walked over, sat cross-legged in front of them, and looked at Gopal with a soft smile. “Good evening,” he said, extending his hand. Gopal reached out and shook it shyly. Vihaan then gently took the slate from the boy and lifted him into his arms. He offered the bouquet to Kavya, who remained seated despite Arundhati’s subtle gesture from behind, urging her to stand. Vihaan smiled and said, “Hi.”
Kavya took the bouquet said “Hi” and reached out to help herself up. Vihaan turned and handed the packet to Arundhati. “Some sweets,” he said simply.
Tuhina, watching the moment unfolding, said kindly, “Sir, you can let Gopal sit on the floor, he’ll play on his own.”
Vihaan replied, “No problem at all. You have a sweet son.”
He settled onto the sofa with Gopal on his lap. Kavya joined him, couldn’t resist, slipping in close, resting her head on his shoulder and quietly sliding her left hand into his right. Vihaan felt a flicker of awkwardness, her parents were still in the room, but then he noticed something else. His sleeve was getting damp.
There was silence, heavy and tender, until Gopal looked up and said innocently, “Water is falling on the slate.”
But this time, it wasn’t Kavya’s tears. it was Vihaan’s.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
Kavya smiled through her own tears, gently pinched Gopal’s cheek, and wiped both the slate and Vihan’s eyes with her dupatta. The room held its breath. It was a moment of quiet reconciliation, raw and deeply emotional.
Dinner had come to an end, with every dish lovingly prepared to suit Vihaan’s tastes. Yet, he barely touched his plate. His voice was quiet as he said, “It’s been a month since I’ve had a family dinner.” The words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow of sadness over the table.
After dinner, the family gathered for a chat, and during the conversation, Tuhina’s story came up. Vihaan listened intently, then turned to her and said, “If you’re open to it, I think I can help.”
He explained that three evenings a week, after office hours, he volunteered with an NGO that supported women in need, especially those raising children alone. Kavya, surprised, interrupted, “Wait, I had no idea you were involved with an NGO!”
Vihaan smiled faintly. “Evenings at home felt empty. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I searched online and found this organization. It’s run by two incredible women. I decided to offer my time to tutor the kids and women who are willing to learn English.”
He continued, “They also provide accommodation for women and their children. I can speak to them and try to arrange a room for you. The school if within five kilometres, they even offer to drop and pick up the kids living in the NGO campus. It could be a perfect fit.”
Tuhina hesitated, then asked, “Sir, what would it cost?”
Vihaan replied gently, “You focus on building a future for Gopal. Leave the rest to us.”
Kavya nodded with quiet resolve. “I’ll help her move. Just share the location.”
It was a moment of quiet solidarity, one where compassion, healing, and new beginnings quietly took root.
As Vihaan prepared to leave, he thanked everyone for the warm hospitality and bent down to shake hands with little Gopal. The child responded with a cheerful “bye,” his tiny hand gripping Vihaan’s with trust.
At the door, Vihaan knelt to put on his shoes. Arundhati stood beside him, gently rubbing his back with quiet affection, while Kavya’s father remained close, offering silent support. Gopal, as if by ritual, climbed onto Kavya’s lap once again, slate in hand, her cheek resting tenderly on his head. Tuhina stood nearby, clutching her emotions, trying hard not to let the tears spill.
Just as Vihaan stood up, Kavya spoke softly, her voice steady yet full of feeling: “Pick me up this Sunday. I’ll be ready.”
Vihaan turned sharply, eyes glistening. Kavya gave a subtle nod, firm, reassuring.
Arundhati and her husband instinctively placed their hands on Vihaan’s back, a gesture that held him steady and conveyed their quiet blessing.
Then came Gopal’s familiar voice, breaking the silence with innocent clarity: “Water is falling on the slate.” But this time, he didn’t wait. He reached for Kavya’s dupatta himself and gently wiped the slate.
Tuhina, unable to hold back any longer, stepped behind the sofa and placed a trembling hand on Kavya’s shoulder. The room was heavy with emotion, grief, hope, and the fragile beauty of reconciliation.
