Chronicles Of My Darling Husband | ✓

114. Aavartan (Part 4)

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Yashoda's smile radiated warmth as she enveloped Nishita in a hug. "Nishi Beta, welcome home! We missed you terribly!"

Nishita's heart ached with a bittersweet pang. Here was the affection, the longing she craved, spilling freely from Yashoda. A tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her cheek as she clung to Yashoda. Didn't she yearn to hear those same words from Jagdish, for him to voice how much he missed her? The yearning felt like a hollow ache in her chest.

A choked sob escaped Nishita's lips, tears glistening on her lashes. "Oh, Maaji," she sniffled, her nose turning red like a babe, her voice thick with emotion, "I missed you so much! Even that... that awful black tea you make."

Yashoda's laugh, warm and rich, filled the air. "Ah, so the terrible tea is missed after all," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't you worry, Beta, I'll be sure to make you a cup every morning, without a drop of honey to sweeten the torture." Noticing Nishita's new hairstyle, her smile softened. "My word," she exclaimed, "is that a new haircut? And you have done highlight thigies too? It looks absolutely stunning on you!"

Nishita grinned as she shouldered her bag. "Well, at least someone appreciates it," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm as she headed toward the house. "Seems like some people are a bit oblivious."

Yashoda's brow furrowed in amusement. "Who? Your parents? I'm sure they appreciate your quirkiness in their own way, even if they don't say it out loud. Look at me," she continued, her eyes twinkling, "I never compliment Subhadra on letting her curls loose because if I did, she'd never tie them up again! And that would be a disaster waiting to happen with all that extra hairfall." She winked at Subhadra, who gasped in mock horror.

"Maa! My hair is way too thick and curly for that to happen," Subhadra protested, swatting at Yashoda's arm playfully.

"Oh, the curls definitely run in the family, like a runaway train sometimes," Yashoda chuckled as she fell into step beside Nishita. "I escaped it but my mother had the most magnificent head of curls, all fiery and wild. I have seen her pictures..." Her voice trailed off, a wistful note creeping in.

Nishita's brow furrowed in confusion. "Pictures?" she echoed.

Yashoda sighed, a shadow flitting across her eyes. "She passed away when I was just a little girl, two years old to be exact."

Nishita's heart went out to Yashoda. The animated banter died in her throat, replaced by a wave of sympathy. "Maaji, I'm so sorry to hear that," she stammered, her voice thick with empathy. "That must have been incredibly difficult, not having your mother around."

Yashoda offered a small, sad smile. "It was," she admitted. "But Bhabhi stepped in and raised me like her own from the time I was a baby. She's... well, she's my everything."

Nishita nodded slowly as she couldn't form a coherent sentence to respond to that. Even though Jagdish's grandmother had told her about Yashoda's and Veer's story in brief, a silent question bloomed in Nishita's mind. What kind of whirlwind romance had unfolded between Yashoda and her husband? What passionate fire had burned so brightly that it eclipsed the comfort and security of such a loving family? The image of a love story both reckless and beautiful took root in Nishita's heart, fueling a newfound respect and affection for Yashoda, the woman who dared to choose love above all else.

"Bhaiyya, what do you have there?" Subhadra's voice chirped as she noticed Jagdish carrying a gift box. "Did Bhabhi's parents give you a gift?"