Arvi's pov:

The next morning came too quickly, my head still buzzing from the laughter and sugar overload of the night before. My heart, though still bruised, didn’t feel quite as shattered.

When I returned to the Oberoi Mansion, everything looked the same the marble floors, the grand staircase, the silence that usually pressed heavy on my shoulders. But this time, I felt lighter. Maybe because I wasn’t carrying it all alone anymore.

Later that afternoon, I found myself sitting in the study room with Vanisha. She had a notebook open, frustration creasing her forehead as she tried to make sense of algebra.

“No, look,” I said gently, pointing at the problem. “You just substitute this value here. Like this see?”

Her eyes lit up. “Ohhh. That’s actually... not so bad.”

I smiled. “Told you. You're getting it.”

I smiled to myself. There was something oddly peaceful about this, this tiny moment of normalcy.

That peace was interrupted when I heard the faint echo of footsteps approaching, followed by a familiar voice.

“Arvi beta,” Choti Maa called from the hallway.

I stood up quickly and stepped out of the room. She was waiting there with her usual warm-but-stern expression, eyes already scanning me head to toe. “Come with us. We’re going to meet a girl for Vivaan’s rishta.”

For a second, I blinked. “Vivaan’s rishta?”

She nodded, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Haan. A good family has sent a proposal. And since we’re all going, you’ll come too. You’re his bhabhi, after all. Badi Bahu of this house.”

There was a pause long enough for her words to settle into my chest. She said it so casually, like it was obvious. But to me, it wasn’t. Not yet. Not fully.

Still, I nodded. “Of course, Choti Maa.”

The Oberoi convoy moved in style two cars packed with bodygaurds, laughter spilling before we even left the gates. Choti Maa sat in the front seat with Chote Papa and maa Papa in other car,excitement barely contained. Everyone was in high spirits.

Except Vivaan.

He sat beside me in the backseat, quiet. Not the usual chirpy, joke cracking Vivaan who could make even the driver laugh. He was… still. His gaze fixed outside the window, as if counting trees instead of moments.

I nudged him lightly. “You okay?”

He turned slowly, plastering a smile on. “Yeah, just… tired. Long week.”

But it didn’t convince me.

This was Vivaan, the same boy who once danced around the living room making everyone happy. The one who called me “Arvi bhabhi” with a teasing wink that made the whole family laugh.

But today, that spark was missing. There was a weight in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.

I wanted to ask more. But the car pulled into the driveway of the girl’s house, and the moment passed.

Still… something tugged at my heart.

I’d always seen him as my little brother. Sweet. Mischievous. Loyal.

But today, as he silently followed behind me, that silence spoke volumes.

And I couldn’t help but wonder was this really about a rishta?

Or was he quietly breaking inside, the way I once had?

The visit was everything a typical rishta meeting should be warm welcomes, sweets served with nervous smiles, and subtle glances between families. The girl was lovely. Polite. Pretty. Perfect, by traditional standards.

Everyone seemed pleased.

Except Vivaan.

He sat beside Bade Papa, answering questions when asked, nodding when needed. But his eyes never lit up. His laugh didn’t reach his eyes. And when the girl’s mother made a lighthearted comment about their future being “so bright together,” I saw it.

That flicker of discomfort. So quick, so small no one else noticed.

But I did.

He looked like someone playing a role. Not living it.

When we returned to the mansion, everyone discussed wedding prospects excitedly. Maa, Choti Maa was glowing. Bade Papa already making future plans.

But Vivaan disappeared.

And I couldn’t ignore the way my chest ached a little watching him go upstairs, head low.

So I followed.

I knocked gently on his door, and when he didn’t answer, I walked in.

He was sitting on the floor by his bed, arms resting on his knees, head tilted back against the wall.

“Vivaan?” I said softly.

He didn’t move.

I sat beside him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “You’ve been quiet since morning. And don’t say you’re tired I know you better.”

He sighed, eyes closed. “Nothing’s wrong, bhabhi. Just… needed some air.”

I gave him a look.

He cracked the smallest smile. “Okay, fine. Maybe a lot of air.”

I waited. Let the silence stretch.

Finally, he said, “Everyone’s so happy. Mom, Dad, even Choti Maa Chote Papa. I should be happy too, right?”

“But you’re not,” I said gently.

He shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

“Why?”

He looked at me then really looked at me and my heart sank.

“I’m not happy because…” he paused, then said it, low and honest, “because I love someone else.”

My breath caught.

“What?” I whispered, blinking in surprise.

He nodded slowly, looking away, his jaw tense. “I’m in love with someone else, bhabhi.”

I stared at him, stunned. That wasn’t what I expected not after the way he’d been behaving, not after the way I’d assumed his quietness had something.

“Who” I started, then stopped, the thoughts in my head spinning too fast to form words.

He hesitated, then looked at me again. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I promise.”

He bit the inside of his cheek and said, “It’s Nia.”

My eyes widened. “Nia? My Nia?”

He gave the smallest nod. “I’ve liked her for a long time now. She’s different. Real. I don’t even know if she sees me that way, but every time I look at her… it’s like I see everything I want in one person.”

I smiled, heart softening. “Vivaan… why didn’t you say anything before?”

He shrugged. “Because I thought I had time. And now, this rishta… it’s happening so fast. Everyone's so excited. I don’t want to disappoint them. But I don’t know what to do either.”

I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to make anyone happy at the cost of your own heart, Vivaan. If you love her, you should fight for it. I’ll help you.”

His eyes glistened with gratitude. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” I smiled. “Let’s talk to Nia. Let’s figure this out together. But first, let’s breathe.”

He smiled through the emotion, and for the first time that day, a bit of his usual brightness returned.

I closed the door to my room, heart thudding in my chest. I couldn’t sit with this alone. Not tonight.

My fingers hovered over my phone before I finally tapped Nia’s name.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hey babe, what’s up?”

I sat on the edge of my bed, voice a little shaky. “Nia… I need to tell you something. And I need you to be honest with me.”

Her tone shifted immediately. “Okay… you’re scaring me a little. What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath. “It’s about Vivaan.”

A pause. “Vivaan?”

“He told me today… he’s in love with you.”

Silence.

For a second, I thought the call had disconnected. But then she sighed. “Arvi… no.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean I don’t love him,” she said softly, gently but firmly. “I’ve always joked around with him, flirted, yes. But it was never serious for me. I didn’t think it was for him either.”

I swallowed. “Nia, he’s not pretending. He’s sure. He said he’s liked you for a long time.”

Her voice dropped. “I had no idea. If I had even an inkling, I would’ve backed off completely. You know me. I would never lead someone on if I knew it meant something.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know you wouldn’t. But… he’s hurting. There’s a rishta on the table for him and he can’t even pretend to be happy about it.”

“I feel awful,” Nia whispered. “But I can’t lie, Arvi. I don’t feel that way about him. He’s sweet, and I care about him, but I don’t love him. And I don’t want to start something out of guilt either.”

“I understand,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Thank you for being honest. I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “But he will be. He has me.”

“And he’s lucky for that,” she said gently.

We said our goodnights after that, but I didn’t sleep for a long while. My heart felt heavy for Vivaan, for Nia, for the silent storms people carry in the quiet corners of their hearts.

He would need strength.

And I would be there, like always.

After the call with Nia ended, I just sat there.

Still.

Silent.

Until the silence cracked.

I buried my face in my hands as the tears came fast, too fast to stop this time. Not for Vivaan. Not for Nia. This ache… this was something else.

“Rayaan,” I whispered, like saying his name might summon him back. Back from wherever he was. Back to the way things were before I said the words that ruined everything.

I missed him.

So much it physically hurt.

I missed the way he looked at me when no one was watching. The way he said my name like it meant something. Like I meant something. I missed the little talks, the rare laughs, the quiet moments when it felt like maybe, just maybe, we were real.

But he left.

Two months.

No goodbye.

Just silence.

And now here I was, crying into a pillow in a room that smelled like him. Wrapped in a dupatta I hadn’t washed because it still held his scent.

“I told you I loved you,” I whispered, voice cracking, “and you disappeared.”

The walls felt too tight, my skin too heavy. I wanted to scream. To tear something apart just to match what I felt inside.

But all I could do was cry.

Because I missed my husband.

I missed the man who made my heart stutter.

And the worst part?

I didn’t even know if he missed me too.