The Shekhawat Bride

Pregnant.......?🙄

Chaitanya's POV

The village was alive with celebration. Strings of marigold flowers hung over every entrance, and the scent of fresh jasmine filled the air. Laughter echoed through the old ancestral home where Hukum and I had arrived two days ago for his cousin's wedding. It had been two years since our last visit, and though the festivities kept us busy, I could sense the underlying tension every time I walked into a room full of women.

The whispers started subtly at first. Curious glances exchanged between the elder ladies. But today, as we sat in the courtyard among the other women, they finally spoke the words that had been hanging in the air since our arrival.

"Chaitanya beta," one of the elderly women started, her voice dripping with fake concern, "It has been four years since your marriage, and yet no news?"

I felt my throat tighten. "News?" I feigned ignorance, trying to keep my voice steady.

Another woman chuckled. "Aree, don't pretend, dear. You know what we mean. When will we hear the good news? It's not good to delay these things too much."

"And what about Ayushman? He doesn't say anything? Doesn't your family pressure you?" someone else added.

I forced a smile, gripping the edge of my odhna tightly in my lap. "Hukum and I are happy together. That's what matters."

But they weren't done. "Of course, of course," one of them said, her tone dismissive. "But a woman's true purpose is to become a mother, na? A marriage is incomplete without children."

The words stung more than I cared to admit. My chest tightened, and I suddenly felt suffocated. I excused myself and rushed inside the house, locking myself in the bathroom before the tears spilled over. I tried to take deep breaths, but their words echoed in my head, reopening every insecurity I had tried to bury.

Unbeknownst to me, Aryan Banna had overheard the conversation. He found Hukum standing near the bonfire with the other men and wasted no time in telling him what had transpired.

Hukum's expression darkened instantly. He handed his drink to someone nearby and strode into the house, his eyes scanning for me. When he found the bathroom door locked, he knocked firmly. "Jaana, open the door."

I wiped my tears, trying to compose myself, but my silence only made him more determined. "Chaitanya," his voice was softer this time, "I know what happened. Please, come out."

Slowly, I unlocked the door. As soon as I saw him, fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. He pulled me into his arms without a word, holding me tightly as I sobbed into his chest.

"Why do they have to say such things, Hukum?" I choked out. "Why does my worth only depend on this? Why can't they see that I am happy with you, just the two of us?"

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing away my tears. "Because they are stuck in their ways. But I don't care about them. You are my world, Chaitanya. You and your happiness. And if they cannot respect my wife, then I have no place here."

Before I could say anything, he straightened, his face set in determination. That evening, he gathered our things, ignoring the surprised protests of his family. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, in front of all the relatives, he declared, "Where my wife is not respected, I will not stay. We are leaving."

A stunned silence fell over the crowd as he took my hand and led me to the car. Without looking back, we left for Jaipur.

Months later, we found ourselves in the breathtaking landscapes of Switzerland. It was a trip we had planned to escape the stress and simply enjoy being with each other. Snow-capped mountains stretched endlessly before us, and the crisp air carried a sense of peace.