Gupta HouseholdGarima writhed in pain, her wounds severe from the glass and burns. The doctor administered medication and ointment to ease her burning sensation, advising a wheelchair due to the ongoing wedding preparations. Stressing her leg wasn’t wise, he noted, promising to return the next day for a check-up before departing.
Khushi felt bad for her, but she stayed rooted in the corner, knowing any attempt to console Garima would invite more scorn. Sheetal hovered over her mother, offering comfort, when Shashi’s reaction stunned them both.
After settling Garima on the bed, Shashi stood with arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion, offering no solace. His stern voice shattered the silence. “How did glass shards end up in front of Khushi’s room, Garima? And why did you carry hot water there?” His cold tone sent shivers down their spines. Sheetal sweated, shifting uneasily on the bed.
Garima hesitated, stammering, “I… I… I really had no idea about the glass pieces. Please believe me.”
“Trust? Believe? And you? Those words don’t suit you,” Shashi retorted. “Fine, let’s say you didn’t know about the glass, but you held the hot water. Why were you heading to Khushi’s room with it?” Disgust twisted his features as he pieced together their scheme, certain it was Garima and Sheetal’s doing.
“Uhuhhh… woh… mein… haan, I didn’t take hot water to her room. I was coming from the kitchen with it for some work. When I reached her door, I thought to wake her, and… I got hurt,” Garima whined, crafting an excuse to dodge another reprimand.
“Did you think I’m a fool, Garima? I know you and your daughter were behind this. You wanted to hurt my Khushi for dancing with Arnav bitwa last night, didn’t you?” he accused with conviction. Gasps filled the room, Khushi’s the loudest.He turned to her, grief shadowing his eyes as she fled past him, Madhu close behind. Regret gnawed at him for bringing her into this torment. If he hadn’t honored Ankit’s request, she’d have been spared this pain. He resolved to contact Ankit—her safety from her past demanded it, not this daily torture.
Facing Garima and Sheetal, he said, “I don’t know how to end your baseless hatred. One day, you’ll regret it, but it’ll be too late.” His grim voice hung heavy. “If I could, I’d sever all ties with you, but I wasn’t raised that way—that’s my misfortune. I’m tired of repeating myself.” With that, he walked away, leaving them gaping and furious.
