Page 13 of Protect my Heart
Bhabhi doesn’t back down. She walks up, her tone soft but steady. “I know what Aarav did wasn’t right,” she begins.“I'm not saying you shouldn't be upset, Chachi." She holds Aunty's hand and gives it a squeeze. "But she's still your daughter-in-law. It’s her first day here. You made me feel so welcome on mine.”
Her voice trembles slightly, her eyes shining with tears. “I don’t even know why I’m crying right now,” she sniffs, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “But she deserves that kindness too. Please… let her do this.”
Her words hang in the silence like a plea. I stare at her, surprised by how sincerely she’s fighting for me—someone she barely knows. Badi Maa’s expression softens, though she doesn’t say anything right away. She looks at Aunty, who’s still watching everything unfold with a quiet, disapproving stare. Finally, Aunty speaks.
“She didn’t follow any other rituals. What’s the point of this one?” Her voice is clipped, cold.
But Badi Maa places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Shivani’s right. Let her do this.”
The tension eases just a little, and I remember the first time I called Badi Maa “Badi Maa.” I thought she and Aunty were married to the same man, and—God—the mortification when I asked her about it. She had sat me down and explained the family dynamics gently, and I was so embarrassed I avoided her for weeks. Until one day, she brought me besan ladoos and told me to stop running away from her. The memory fades away with the reminder of how everything turned out now.
Bhabhi turns to me with a triumphant grin when they walk out, leaving us alone.
“You okay?” she asks gently. I nod. “Need help?”
“No, I’m good,” I whisper as I glance around the kitchen.
She squeezes my shoulder. “I know nothing feels okay right now. And yeah, they’re upset, but they’re not bad people. You grew up around them—you know that. Give them some time. They’ll come around.” She gives me a quick wink, trying to cheer me up.
I try to smile back, but it’s wobbly. The tears sting before I can stop them. I pull her into a hug without thinking.
She freezes for a second, and I instantly regret it. Crap. I made it weird. But then she hugs me back—tight. She's so warm.
“You can talk to me, okay?” she whispers. “I don’t have any friends here. I’d really like one.” She breaks the hug and pats my arm twice. She waddles toward the door, muttering, “God, this is so hard. I hate Rudra for putting me in this position.”
I giggle softly, watching her waddle away, her energy refusing to fade even in all this heaviness. There’s something comforting about her. Like no matter what’s going on, she’ll find a way to bring light into the room.
I turn back to the counter. Poha and sandwiches, I decide. It’s simple. It’s quick. And it’s familiar. I remember how Aarav used to eat so many sandwiches when I made them. Said I made the best sandwiches in the world. Not that I’m making them for him. He doesn’t even want me here. I’m just doing this to save time… to get through the ritual. That’s all.
I chop onions, heat the oil, and measure the spices—my hands steady even though my mind is anything but. The kitchen slowly fills with the smell of roasting peanuts and turmeric, the soft sizzle of the stove grounding me.
By the time I’m done, I feel… not okay, but a little more in control. I carry everything to the dining room. Everyone’s already seated. My hands tremble as I serve them.
I watch their faces—waiting for a reaction. Any reaction. Nothing.
Except Bhabhi. She gives me a big thumbs up from across the table. I smile at her gratefully. Dadu hands me an envelope. “You did a good job,” he says kindly. “Thank you for the meal.”
That simple smile from him is enough to bring a flutter of warmth to my chest. Bade Papa gives me one too—wordless, but I still take it.
No one else says anything. The silence stretches awkwardly as I shift on my foot. My presence feels like a stain on the tablecloth—visible and unwanted.
A heavy feeling settles in my chest as I glance toward the hallway, half-expecting Aarav to show up. But he doesn’t.
And somehow, the absence feels heavier than his presence ever did.
CHAPTER 8
AARAV
I sit at my desk, staring blankly at the pile of paperwork in front of me until it blurs. There’s a mountain of work waiting to be done, but my mind keeps drifting back to this morning.
Anika. Draped in that red saree, she looked like a dream. Absolutely breathtaking. A silent curse escapes my lips as I close my eyes for a second, trying to push the image away—the way the fabric hugged her curves, the way her hair danced in the breeze, and how the sunlight caught her skin and made her glow.
I shake my head, frustrated. Focus, Aarav. You’ve got deadlines. You have responsibilities. But still, my thoughts keep slipping back to her. I can't believe I actually hid behind the pillar in the dining room just to catch a glimpse of her. What the hell is wrong with me?
My phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. It's Bhabhi.
I pick it up. “Hello?”
