The Tyagi house looked peaceful from the outside, but inside, authority ruled every corner.

The dining table was neatly arranged for breakfast. Fresh toast, fruits, and steaming cups of tea were placed carefully, reflecting wealth and order. Anoop Tyagi sat at the head of the table, holding the newspaper in one hand and his mobile checking the stock market. His posture was straight, his expression firm, as if even breakfast was a formal meeting for him.

Opposite him sat his elder son, Aakash Tyagi, scrolling through his phone while taking occasional sips of tea. He looked confident and proud, already enjoying the importance he carried in the house.

Without looking up from the newspaper, Anoop spoke,

“So, tell me. How far have the wedding preparations reached?”

Aakash immediately put his phone aside and leaned forward with enthusiasm.

“Everything is going perfectly, Papa. We have booked the most expensive hotel in the city for the guests. Only top-class arrangements. No compromises. The best caterers, luxury rooms, and a grand banquet hall. People will talk about this wedding for years… The wedding preparations are so grand that no one would have seen such a wedding in Ajmer…”

Anoop finally lowered his newspaper and looked at his son with approval.

“That is how it should be. Our family name should be reflected in every detail.”

“Yes, Papa,” Aakash replied proudly. “I have personally supervised everything. Even the decoration team is one of the finest in the business. Nothing will be ordinary.”

Just then, Pragya walked in quietly, carrying a tray with two cups of freshly brewed tea. She placed one near Anoop and the other beside Aakash with gentle care. Her movements were soft, her voice even softer. After hesitating for a moment, she spoke politely,

“You could also consider hiring an event management company. They handle everything professionally and create very good concepts. It might reduce your stress.”

The moment she finished speaking, the atmosphere changed. Anoop’s expression hardened immediately. He did not even bother to respond.

Instead, he turned his face toward Aakash with a sharp look. Aakash understood that look perfectly.

He placed his cup down, stood up, and caught Pragya’s wrist firmly. Without saying a word, he pulled her away from the dining table and walked toward the corridor.

They stopped near the staircase, far enough that their voices would not reach the table. Aakash released her hand and said angrily,

“Who asked you to give advice there? Did anyone invite your opinion? When Papa and I are discussing important matters, you are supposed to stay quiet… Do you even realize how important this wedding is to us? It's my sister's wedding, and you think I'm going to leave things out. What exactly were you trying to prove with your advice?”

Pragya lowered her eyes.

“Learn to keep your mouth shut,” he continued harshly. “Nobody needs your suggestions. Understand your place. You are here to support, not to interfere.”

His words were sharp, calculated, and humiliating. From behind the wall, a pair of frightened eyes watched everything.

A young girl stood silently in the shadows, having witnessed the entire scene. She had come out to call her brother and sister-in-law for breakfast, but now she remained frozen, her heart pounding. Seeing her brother so angry and her sister-in-law being insulted made her uneasy and restless.

Pragya noticed her. She understood immediately that her sister-in-law, whose wedding was approaching, had heard every word. A faint sadness passed through her eyes, but she hid it quickly. She nodded obediently and said softly,

“You are right. It was my mistake. I should not have spoken. It will not happen again. Please do not be angry. Go inside and discuss whatever you want. I will not say anything.”

Her voice carried acceptance, not agreement. Aakash looked at her for a moment, satisfied that she had submitted, and then turned back toward the dining area.

Pragya stood there for a few seconds, gathering herself. Then she slowly turned toward the girl standing nearby. Their eyes met. One pair held pain learned through years of silence. The other held fear and confusion, as if realizing for the first time what kind of life awaited her.

Pragya took a deep breath, adjusted her dupatta, and slowly turned toward the young girl standing nearby. Not wanting her sister-in-law to feel uncomfortable, she immediately softened her expression and smiled warmly.

“Gunjal, come here,” she called gently.

Hearing her name, Gunjal’s tense face relaxed at once. She smiled back and hurried toward Pragya. Ever since Pragya had entered the Tyagi household, she had become Gunjal’s safest space. In a house where words were measured and emotions were hidden, Pragya was the only person, apart from her mother, with whom Gunjal could speak freely. Over time, her mother, Pragya, and Gunjal had formed a quiet friendship built on trust, shared secrets, and silent understanding.

Gunjal was twenty-four years old and full of creative energy. Studying had never been her strongest interest, but she found joy in almost everything else. She loved painting, designing her own clothes, and turning old, forgotten things into something beautiful and new. Creativity was her escape from a life where her voice was rarely heard. In front of her father, she barely spoke at all. With her brother, she sometimes expressed herself, but always carefully, always aware of her limits.

Her wedding with Poorav was approaching, and she was genuinely excited about it. In her heart, she believed that Poorav was different from the men in her family. Kinder. Calmer. More understanding. She felt that even if her life after marriage was not perfect, it would at least be better than the one she was living now.

Pragya held Gunjal’s hand gently and asked softly,

“Did you come to call us for breakfast?”

Gunjal nodded and replied with a small smile,

“Yes, Bhabhi. But then I saw you both talking… You must have felt really hurt when Bhai spoke to you so harshly. But I think he was already upset about something Papa said early in the morning. You know he isn’t a bad person, right? He just doesn’t know how to control his anger sometimes. You were trying to say something important to him. Tell me what it was. I’ll talk to him calmly and explain it to him in a way he will understand. That way, he will listen to you, and you won’t have to feel bad anymore..”

Pragya brushed the moment aside lightly.

“Nothing important,” she said calmly. “You know how discussions go in this house.”

Gunjal hesitated for a second, then sat beside her. Gunjal understood very well that Aakash loved Pragya deeply. She had never doubted that. What she could never understand, however, was his way of expressing that love. The tone he used, the authority in his voice, the sharpness that often accompanied even simple conversations, confused her. Many times, she found herself wondering if this was how married couples normally spoke to each other. After all, she had grown up watching her parents interact in much the same way. Her father’s voice was always louder, firmer, and unquestioned, while her mother responded with patience and silence. Now she was seeing a similar pattern between her brother and sister-in-law.

Perhaps, she told herself, this was simply how relationships worked.

Because of this belief, she rarely interfered. She convinced herself that it was not her place to step in between husband and wife. Yet, no matter how much she tried to normalize it in her mind, she did not like it. Something about it felt unsettling. Love, she believed, should not need to sound like authority. Respect should not feel like submission. But she kept those thoughts to herself, quietly observing, quietly learning, and quietly hoping that her own future would look different. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she began speaking.

“Bhabhi, you know what Poorav told me yesterday?” she asked eagerly. “He said he has no problem with anything I like. My clothes, my hobbies, my work. Nothing. He even said he will never shout at me.”

She paused and added softly,

“He knows I get scared when people raise their voice. Papa shouts so often that loud sounds make me nervous. Poorav understands that.”

There was deep relief in her voice. Pragya listened quietly, her face calm and supportive. She smiled and said,

“That is good, Gunjal. Understanding matters more than anything in a relationship.”

Gunjal leaned closer and continued happily,

“He also said that if we ever disagree, he will talk instead of fighting. Can you imagine, Bhabhi? Talking calmly. No anger. No blame. Just discussion.”

She laughed lightly.

“It sounds so nice, doesn’t it?”

Pragya smiled back, but behind that smile was a silent awareness. She knew very well how promises sounded before marriage and how reality often changed after it. She knew how easily understanding turned into control and how softly spoken words could one day become commands. Yet, she never allowed those thoughts to reach Gunjal.

She had decided long ago that she would not steal her sister-in-law’s dreams.

“You deserve that kind of life,” Pragya said sincerely. “A peaceful life where you feel safe and respected.”

Gunjal looked at her with affection.

“I just want a normal, happy life, Bhabhi. Nothing fancy. Just peace.”

Pragya gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Gunjal’s ear and replied softly,

“And you will get it.”

She meant it. Even if she was not sure how true it would be.

Seeing Gunjal’s hopeful eyes, her innocent faith in love, and her belief in a better future filled Pragya with mixed emotions. She was happy for her, proud of her courage to dream, and yet quietly worried about the world that awaited her.

Pragya only smiled softly in response, because she knew that the dreams Gunjal was holding close to her heart were far more beautiful than the reality that often waited ahead. She understood that if Gunjal were to face the truth too early, if she were forced to open her eyes to the harshness of life before she was ready, it would hurt her far more deeply. Pragya believed that protecting her sister-in-law’s innocence was better than frightening her with bitter realities. She did not want to place heavy truths in front of her in a way that would only wound her emotions and leave permanent scars. Some lessons, she felt, were meant to be learned slowly, with time, strength, and experience, not through fear.