Aavya, as usual, sat quietly by the window, lost in her thoughts. She was unsure of where to start or what to consider. Though her health had significantly improved, she was still not allowed to go outside. Vanjeet had clearly told her that her reckless attempt to leave the house had caused his grandfather’s health to deteriorate. Therefore, it would be better if she avoided doing anything for a few days. Aavya no longer wanted to be the cause of anyone's problems. She had already gone through enough, and she had no desire to be the cause of further distress.

Vishambhar had visited her room two or three times to check on her, and because of that, she didn’t want to become a source of unnecessary trouble to him either. Although she had met Vishambhar before on a few occasions, she had never wanted to engage with any of Vanjeet’s family. But after finally speaking to Vishambhar properly, she had felt a strange sense of comfort, something she hadn’t expected.

Vishambhar had advised her to resume her college studies, and she had agreed with him. Deep down, she knew that once she rejoined college, she could slowly begin taking steps to search for her missing sister. But right now, if she said anything openly or tried to leave the house with that intention, it would only create more chaos, and she didn’t want that.

She was deep in thought, trying to process all these emotions, when Sangeeta suddenly entered the room. Upon spotting Aavya, Sangeeta approached her directly and scrutinized her thoroughly. Her gaze was cold and judgmental, and with a sharp tone she said,

"Whether I accept it or not, the fact remains that my son is now married to you. That’s the truth. And as a married woman, you should behave accordingly. Where is your mangalsutra? Where is your sindoor or your bindi? Starting this evening, relatives will begin arriving again because Papa Ji has fixed your reception for two days from now. So behave yourself and act like a proper daughter-in-law.”

Aavya, startled by Sangeeta’s sudden outburst, could only lower her gaze and silently listen. She knew very well that Vanjeet’s entire family was angry with her sister, and this unexpected wedding had complicated everything. Lost in the whirlwind of emotions, she didn’t even try to explain or defend herself. Sangeeta’s sharp voice interrupted her thoughts again.

“Papa Ji wants you to do the traditional ‘first cooking ritual’ today. So come with me. But not like this, change your clothes and walk properly in front of everyone.”

Without waiting for a reply, Sangeeta marched straight to the wardrobe in the room. Aavya quietly followed her, her steps hesitant. Sangeeta opened Vanjeet’s wardrobe and started going through the clothes. Aavya noticed her pick out a few outfits and realized they were meant for Koyal. As Sangeeta looked at those clothes, a faint smile appeared on her face, almost mocking. She then pulled out a particular saree, turned to Aavya, and said coldly:

“These clothes were all custom-made by Vanjeet for Koyal. She’s tried on every single one of them. But you? You won't have any problem wearing them, right? After all, you're used to taking things that were never meant for you.”

Aavya’s smile, which had spread on her lips after hearing her sister, faded completely. Still, she didn’t say a single word. She simply took the saree from Sangeeta's hands and, with quiet helplessness, said softly:

“I don’t know how to wear a saree.”

Hearing that, Sangeeta’s frustration escalated. Her face tightened with irritation as she yanked the clothes back from Aavya, thrusting only the petticoat and blouse into her hands while keeping the saree to herself. She shouted, her voice echoing in the room:

“You don’t even know how to wear that? Fine. I’ll teach you even that!”

Aavya flinched slightly at the loudness of her voice but said nothing. She quickly walked into the bathroom and changed into the blouse and petticoat. When she returned, she stood silently in front of Sangeeta, holding her arms across her stomach and chest in an attempt to cover herself. She bowed her head and fixed her eyes on the floor.

Without asking for consent, Sangeeta forcefully pushed Aavya’s hands away and began tucking the saree into her petticoat, wrapping it around her roughly and quickly. Her long nails scratched Aavya’s delicate skin, and the hurried, forceful dressing was physically painful. But Aavya didn’t have the strength to complain or resist.

Once she was done dressing her, Sangeeta dragged her to the vanity stool, made her sit down, and began combing and parting her hair into two neat sections. Then, with a firm voice, she ordered,

“Put vermilion in your parting.”

With trembling hands, Aavya picked up dark red vermilion and moved it toward the center of her parted hair. She looked at herself in the mirror for a fleeting second. There was no hope in her eyes, no protest. She had no choice. Slowly, she applied it and then closed her eyes. Once Sangeeta was done fixing her appearance, she looked at her and said with a tone that was bitter yet emotional:

“When I first saw you, even after knowing everything about your past, I genuinely felt affection toward you. I thought that when Koyal comes here, I would often call you over so you wouldn’t feel the absence of your sister. I thought I’d give you the warmth of a mother. But both you sisters ruined everything. One ran away from the wedding altar, and the other forcibly married my son."

She paused, and her voice cracked slightly as she continued.

“My son had full faith that you wouldn’t go through with this marriage. I understand this wasn’t entirely your fault. Everyone around forced both of you into this mess. But I’m a mother. And the way I see my son suffering every single day because of this... that pain only makes me hate you more……”

She turned away, her voice now devoid of emotion.

“Now go downstairs and start preparing food in the kitchen. The maids are already there—they’ll help you. I know you don’t know how to cook, but they’ll guide you. They’ll show you how to complete the ritual, how to serve the elders. Learn it. And do it well. Now go…”

Her words had such an impact that Aavya felt a lump in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears. But she didn’t want to break down for no reason. She had already decided she wouldn’t let herself appear weak anymore. There was too much she had to do, and crying wouldn’t help. Instantly a pain arises in her chest, and she questions herself.

"Why am I pretending to be a wife when I'm still someone’s sister?”

Silently, she followed Sangeeta into the kitchen, where all the housemaids were already lined up and working. Taking a glance at Aavya, Sangeeta turned to them and said firmly,

“Help her with everything. She doesn’t know how to cook, but every dish prepared today must carry her touch. She’s my son’s wife, so don’t forget what I’m saying. Before the food is served on the dining table, each and every dish must have been touched by her hands. If that doesn’t happen, you all better remember the consequences.”

All the maids nodded in agreement and immediately resumed their work with renewed focus. Aavya stood there, not knowing what to do. She simply watched them all in silence. Just then, an elderly woman walked up to her and gently said,

“You just take a seat for now. You don’t need to do anything immediately. When the dessert is ready, we’ll ask you to add the sugar, and when the puris for the offering are being made, you can fry five of them in oil.”

“I’ve seen people do that, but I can never make them round,” Aavya confessed nervously.

The old woman chuckled softly at her honesty, nodded her head, and then went back to instructing the others while helping wherever needed.

Aavya continued watching everyone keenly. She was silently observing how each person moved with purpose, immersed in their tasks. It was all new to her. She had never stepped into her own kitchen back home. She remembered that Koyal knew how to cook two or three dishes, but Aavya didn’t even know that much. Still, she was paying close attention to how the vegetables were chopped, the spices added, the dough rolled, and the entire experience, although overwhelming, felt like something completely different, something she had never imagined being part of.

For a moment, she smiled quietly to herself, feeling like she was witnessing a new side of life. The elderly woman, noticing her brief smile, felt a small spark of joy too. She knew how troubled this girl had been lately, and seeing her smile after so many days was like watching a small ray of hope flicker back to life.

When the food was finally prepared, Aavya helped place it on the dining table with the maids’ assistance. By then, Vanjeet had also returned from his office. As his eyes fell on her dressed in a saree, he suddenly froze. His gaze lingered, caught in the moment.

PAST

“Koyal, this is my favorite color. So you have to take this saree,” Vanjeet had said once with a smile.

Koyal had widened her eyes, staring at the saree in mild panic.

“Even looking at it gives me anxiety. I don't know how I’ll manage. What if I wear it and then trip or fall in front of everyone?”

“Then I’ll be right there to catch you,” he’d said playfully, “and make the most of the moment by sweeping you into my arms.”

Koyal had lightly hit him on the chest in response, while he laughed heartily.

PAST ENDS

Now, Aavya stood by the dining table, watching people slowly begin to gather. Vanjeet shook himself out of his thoughts and made his way to sit beside his grandfather, Vishambhar. He noticed that the seat next to him had been deliberately left vacant for Aavya.

Aavya, meanwhile, stood near Vishambhar and tried to serve him food exactly as instructed. Her hands were trembling slightly, and Vanjeet noticed every bit of her struggle. Vishambhar, however, smiled warmly at her, though she remained nervous despite his gentle expression.

After serving sweets to everyone, she placed a couple of puris on Vishambhar’s plate. They weren’t perfectly round—but it was clear that she had given her best. Vishambhar looked closely at them, understanding her hard work. He picked up one puri for himself and placed it onto Vanjeet’s plate with a smile, saying,

“Since your wife has made such an effort, the least you can do is appreciate it. She deserves that much.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Vanjeet instinctively looked at Aavya, who was already looking at him. Their eyes met, but she immediately looked down, breaking the gaze. Vishambhar turned to her and said gently,

“Aavya, come sit next to Vanjeet. That’s your place now. From today onward, this is how things should be. You two should sit and eat together always.”

Vanjeet clenched his jaw slightly. He didn’t like such formalities or forced displays. But with the reception scheduled for the next day, the house was once again filling up with relatives, and he didn’t want to create a scene in front of everyone. Aavya was aware that this was merely a formality, but she felt compelled to conform to the expectations of others.

Already feeling uncomfortable in the saree, she hesitated as she took slow steps toward him. The idea of sitting beside him, sharing a meal, felt like an emotional burden because in her heart, she knew that seat was meant for her sister, not her. The thought gnawed at her.

Just as she was about to reach the seat next to Vanjeet, the edge of her saree got caught under her foot, and she stumbled forward. Before she could fall, Vanjeet sprang to his feet and caught her securely.

“Are you okay?” he asked, steadying her.

Caught off guard, Aavya suddenly gripped his hand tightly, too afraid of tripping again, Vanjeet could feel the tremble in her fingers, and instead of pulling away, he supported her silently and helped her sit down on the chair beside him.

Once she had settled, Aavya slowly released his hand, realizing she had been holding it tightly for far too long. Embarrassed, she shut her eyes for a second, scolding herself internally. She hadn’t meant to hold him like that. She hadn’t meant for anyone to notice.

But nothing escaped Vishambhar’s observant gaze. Still, he said nothing. Smiling softly to himself, he resumed eating his meal. All the while, his eyes lingered affectionately on his grandson and the young woman beside him watching the fragile threads of something new beginning to weave themselves silently between them.