Chapter 23: Chapter 20

For those who don't know, In Indian families even father in law is called as "Dad". So don't get confused.

Happy Reading

After a long, silent war, they finally entered the room. Siya’s eyes scanned the room, hesitant and weary. Raghav’s room was surprisingly serene, with soft pastel tones dominating the walls. Shades of light beige and muted blue colour in the room gave a peaceful vibe, while large windows draped with flowing white curtains allowed moonlight to pour in.

A plush cream rug laid beneath a low coffee table, and the furniture was understated but elegant. A king-sized bed with pale linen, a neatly organized wooden desk, and a comfortable-looking sofa set against the far wall.

The room smelled faintly of lavender, a soothing contrast to the tension brimming in the air. Small potted plants adorned the corners, and an array of books and sketches rested on a shelf nearby.

Siya barely had time to absorb the calming space when the door opened behind her. The arrival of some family members, led by a beaming aunt, broke the stillness.

“Well, well! The bride is finally here,” the aunt teased, clapping her hands. “You two lovebirds better get comfortable. It’s a big night!”

Another relative chimed in, “And don’t take too long with the small talk, hmm?” They all laughed and sent suggestive glances their way, despite the clear unease carved on Siya and Raghav’s faces.

After a few more chuckles and well-meaning ribbing, the group finally left, shutting the door behind them. Silence settled once more, leaving the newlyweds alone.

Raghav cleared his throat, walking toward the sofa. “Uh… you must be tired. I’ll take the couch, and you can have the bed. It’s more comfortable.”

Siya glanced at him, her guard still up. “It’s fine. I don’t mind—”

“You’ve had a long day,” he interrupted, gesturing toward the bed. “I mean it. I’ll be fine here.”

Before Siya could respond, he gestured toward the wardrobe. “Also, I’ve cleared out half the space for your clothes and luggage. There are extra hangers too. And I put fresh toiletries in the bathroom. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Siya’s stiff posture softened. His efforts, though simple, were considerate. “Thank you,” she murmured.

After a beat of silence, Siya exhaled. “Look, the bed is big enough for both of us. Let’s just share it—with boundaries.”

Raghav’s brows lifted in surprise, “Did she talked about sharing it?” but he nodded. “Okay. I’ll stick to my side, I promise.”

Once they’d settled on opposite edges of the bed, Siya spoke. “We need to talk now. About how we’re going to pull this off for next year.”

Raghav sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard. “You’re right. Let’s set some ground rules.”

Ground Rules

Siya started, “We’ll have to support each other in front of everyone. No mixed signals.” Raghav nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Let’s try to keep our personal lives out of this arrangement,” Raghav added. “No need to get tangled in unnecessary drama.” Siya sighed. “And we’ll try to get along with each other’s families. Or at least not cause any more conflicts.”

“No lies,” Raghav stated firmly. “If there’s something important, we tell each other. Keeping secrets could be risky.” Siya added, “We won’t reveal this act until both of us are ready!!!”

“And respect,” Raghav said quietly. “No forcing decisions on the other. We’re always equals in this.” Siya curled a brow. “Like sticking to your side of the bed?” Raghav chuckled softly. “Exactly.”

As they lay in silence afterward, both lost in their thoughts, the weight of the situation sank in.

Siya: He’s not as insufferable as I suspect. In fact… he’s thoughtful. But no. I can’t let myself get carried away. This is just a deal. Nothing more”.

Raghav: She’s more reasonable than I expected, even kind. But I shouldn't feel something for her. We’ve got boundaries, rules, and a timeline. That’s it”.

Despite their mutual resolve to deny any feelings, a faint flicker of warmth or a new bubbly crush lingered between them—a silent acknowledgment of the connection they both refused to admit.

The Morning

Siya stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she arranged the ingredients for halwa. She had no idea about this tradition. Her mother never spoke of it—too preoccupied with constant criticism to bother with customs. Her life there had been a series of sharp words and harsher silences.

She thought she had escaped that hell, but this house carried its own suffocating weight. Mr. Desai’s control loomed over everything, making even the walls feel oppressive. And yet, there was Raghav—a quiet, steadfast presence, who seemed determined to make her feel at home in a place that didn’t even feel like home to him.

“Siya,” Mrs. Desai’s soft voice broke through her thoughts. “If you need any help, Urmi and I are here. Don’t worry.”

Mrs. Desai held her hand gently, guiding her to the kitchen. “Some of Mr. Desai’s guests will be joining us today. I know these circumstances are far from ideal, but this is your home now. Urmi made halwa for her first rasoi. Would you like to try that too?”

Siya nodded, forcing a small smile. The stark contrast between Mrs. Desai’s kindness and her husband’s cruelty left her confused. How these two people are so different?

Sensing Siya’s hesitation, Urmi leaned in and whispered, “Don’t overthink. She’s genuinely kind. You’ll see.”

Siya let out a quiet breath and asked, “Does Dad like halwa too?”

Mrs. Desai smiled and nodded. “He does.”

With that, Siya turned to the stove, immersing herself in the task. Within minutes, the aroma of roasted almonds and cashews went through the Desai mansion, drawing everyone’s attention.

As Siya placed the finished dish on the counter, Urmi’s husband, Vasu, strolled in. “Wow, Siya! That smells incredible. Who knows, it might even be better than Urmi’s!”

Urmi rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Urmi turned to Siya and grinned. “You’ve done well. Learned from the best, right?”

Siya laughed softly, her tension easing, but the moment shattered as raised voices echoed from the stairs.

“Raghav, don’t you dare speak nonsense in front of the guests,” Mr. Desai’s voice thundered. “We aren’t interested in your medical life. Just sit there and smile. Do you understand?”

Raghav’s reply was calm, but his voice carried a quiet defiance. “Why does it always have to be about appearances? I’m not ruining anything.”

“Harshness won’t help now. He’s married. Let it go,” Mrs. Desai said, her voice laced with quiet desperation.

“It doesn’t matter, Mom,” Raghav replied, his expression blank, his face weary from years of these confrontations. He glanced toward the kitchen, knowing Siya must have heard every word. The thought churned in his mind, a bitter realization settling in.

“She’ll think I’m weak. A coward. What kind of husband lets this happen?”, Raghav thought to himself.

“It doesn’t matter because you don’t matter,” Mr. Desai spat, his voice venomous. “But Siya does. Don’t ruin this for me.”

Mrs. Desai’s shoulders sagged as Mr. Desai stormed off. She placed a hand on Raghav’s head, her touch tender but guilt-ridden. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. I should have done more for you. I should’ve fought harder.

Raghav swallowed hard, giving her a faint nod.

As Raghav walked toward the dining room, Siya stepped in front of him, holding a small dish of halwa. “Hi,” she said with a teasing smile. “You like sweets, don’t you? Urmi di told me. I made this, so you better not criticize it.”

Raghav stared at her, momentarily speechless. She had heard everything—he could see it in her eyes. But instead of pity or judgment, there was understanding. For the first time in years, he felt seen, not as a failure but as someone worth standing beside.

“She’s different,” he thought. She’s not like Noorie. Siya would never hurt me.

The guests gathered around the table, their chatter filling the room as they dug into the halwa.

“This is incredible!” one guest exclaimed.

“So rich and flavorful,” another added.

Everyone chimed in with praise, their words weaving a chorus of approval. Everyone, except Mr. Desai.

He sat stiffly, his spoon hovering over the plate. He took a single bite and swallowed quickly, his face tightening.

“What do you think, Mr. Desai?” one guest asked, smiling. “How’s your daughter-in-law’s cooking?”

Mr. Desai forced a smile, the effort almost painful. “Yes... it’s... delicious.” His voice was strained, and his eyes darted toward Siya.

Siya met his gaze from the kitchen, her expression calm but her hand holding a small jar of salt, lifting it just enough for him to see.

At that moment, Mr. Desai’s jaw clenched, his rage barely concealed. He wanted to lash out, to assert control, but he couldn’t—not in front of the guests.

But she wouldn’t be easy to break. She had no intention of letting Mr. Desai controls her, and not even Raghav now.

She was boiling in anger, but couldn't do more.

“If I could, it would have been poison, but we promised each other. And I won't break it in certain ways".

She looks towards Raghav, “This isn’t home,” she thought. “But it could be... with him.”