The Rathore's Family

"Paas hoke bhi door"

She paced back and forth across the room, anxiety gnawing at her insides.

Her voice trembled as she muttered to herself, "Mere koi galti nhi thi... mere koi galti nhi thi." She repeated the words, trying to find solace in them, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t at fault.

But the thoughts kept racing in her mind. What if he hates me now? What if I've ruined everything again? They had just started talking, and already, she had messed up. He shouted at her—shouted!—and the memory of his angry voice echoed in her ears. It stung because, even though he hadn't been talking to her much before, at least she hadn't given him a reason to yell at her. Until now.

Fear and anxiety twisted inside her as she continued to pace. The door was ajar, and suddenly, he walked in. He stood silently for a moment, watching her with a faint smile mixed with a trace of guilt.

"How many steps have you walked?" he asked casually.

His voice froze in her tracks. Slowly, she turned to face him, confusion clouding her features.

"This wasn't the question she expected him to ask."

"Did you challenge yourself to walk 10,000 steps?" he teased, taking a few steps closer to her.

Her large eyes blinked at him in bewilderment, and he couldn’elp but chuckle. "Bolo bhi ab kuchh... ya in badi badi aankhon se ghoorti rahogi."

Instantly, she lowered her gaze, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. "Maine ye toh karne ko nhi kaha," she whispered.

"So... sorry," she muttered, the word slipping out hesitantly. Though her voice was barely audible, he heard it clearly. But this wasn’t what he wanted to hear from her, especially not sorry for something she hadn’t done wrong.

But he pretended not to know the reason behind her apology. "Mujhe dekhne ke liye sorry bol rahi hai?" he asked, stepping closer, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Nhi, nhi... wo jo neeche—" she stammered, stepping back, trying to explain herself.

"Toh matlab mujhe ghureingi?" He teased, his voice soft but insistent.

"Nahi... nahi!" she protested.

"Toh matlab ab mujhe dekhna bhi mana hai?" He took one more step toward her, a smile playing on his lips.

Frustrated, she looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "Mujhe bolne toh dein!"

"Aap bolti bhi hain?" He quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Aap bolne denge tab bolungi na!" She shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Toh boliye, bas sorry ke alawa kuchh bolna," he urged, his tone softening slightly.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "Wo... wo jo neeche hua...," she began, her voice shaky.

"Hmm... aage?" he prompted, now genuinely curious.

"Wo maine jaan kar nahi kiya... galti se... papa ji ke..." her voice trailed off, guilt weighing heavily on her words.

"Stop." His tone was firm, cutting her off as he took a few steps back and sat on the bed. He didn't look at her, his gaze was fixed somewhere far away. "Jaao, so jaao," he said quietly.

"But... but—" she started to protest.

"Kaha na, so jaao," he repeated, his voice gentle but final.

Reluctantly, she walked over to the sofa and sat down. Her eyes kept drifting toward him. He lay on the bed, the comforter pulled up, his hand resting over his eyes as if shielding himself from the world—or perhaps from her.

She lay down on the sofa, but fear gripped her tighter than before. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she mumbled to herself, "Itti jaldi toh mausam bhi nahi badalta..."

"If possible, don't call that person 'Papa' in front of me." His deep voice broke through her thoughts.

Her eyes widened in confusion, but he didn’t move, didn’t even take his hand off his forehead. She stared at him, the words echoing in her mind, trying to understand what he meant, but all she could see was his still figure, lost in his own world.

"If you don't tell me or talk about the problem, how will we face it? I don't know if you want this relationship or not, but I want to make it work. But how can that happen if you won’t even talk?

............

We can't go on like this anymore. Now I will ask questions, and you will have to answer them."

She was thinking all this as she drifted off to sleep.

…………………..

Chasing away the darkness, the sun's rays hinted at the start of a new day. They crept into the room, nudging him awake as they softly kissed his face. He groaned, pulling the duvet off himself, and sat up on the edge of the bed. His eyes drifted toward the sofa, where she usually slept, but it was empty.

"Why does she have to wake up so early every day?" he muttered to himself, feeling a pang of frustration mixed with concern.

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, he headed to the gym. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on his workout, his mind kept wandering back to the conversation from the night before. The weight of his own words felt heavier than the dumbbells in his hands.

"Shit! I shouted at her... all because of him," he thought bitterly, guilt gnawing at him.

……......

Meanwhile, Drishti was in the kitchen, her hands busy making tea, though her mind was far from calm. The soft clinking of utensils did little to drown out the turmoil inside her. She had expected him to be angry because she had accidentally spilled water on his father, but instead, it was her calling his father "Papa" that had set him off.

The hurt from Tej's harsh words lingered, but something deeper troubled her. Why can't I call him Papa? The question echoed relentlessly in her mind, each repetition cutting a little deeper.

Just then, Riddhima's cheerful voice broke through her thoughts.

"Good morning, Chachi!"

"Good morning," Drishti replied, trying to mask the unease with a smile.

Riddhima, along with Anjali, poured themselves tea. With a playful grin, Riddhima said, "Let's have some chai pe charcha!"

They all chuckled at her words, sharing a light moment. But even as they chatted about random things, Drishti couldn’t shake off the lingering discomfort.

……......

Advait had left for the office early due to some pressing issues, so Drishti decided to take a cab to college. Vihaan had offered to drop her off as per Advait's instructions, but she refused. She couldn’t bear the thought of accepting help from him, especially after everything that had happened.

Now, as she walked along the empty roads, frustration bubbled inside her. Her cheeks flushed with irritation as she realized there were no cabs in sight, not for 5 or 6 kilometers. The area around the Rathore mansion was too secluded for convenience.

"I know he did this on purpose! And I also will not go with him from now on time," she thought angrily, her steps quickening as her annoyance grew.

What’s the point of being so rich if you can’t even get a cab around here? She fumed internally. Great, just great... I should’ve just let Bhaiya help, but no, my brain had to get messed up because of some people. What do I even do? It’s not my fault! She mumbled to herself, irritated and regretted battling inside her.

But just as despair began to settle in, her eyes caught sight of a cab approaching from a distance. Relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She quickly hailed the cab, feeling a wave of triumph as she slid into the back seat. Finally, she was on her way, leaving behind the tension in the morning for a moment....

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