The Second Bloom • 18+ [Completed ✓]

33. Leaving maternal home (Malini's POV)

Three days passed by since that incident.

Nandani left that very day for village, because Varun had threatened her.

The only problem is, we don't have any proof of Varun's innocence. None.

I don't know how we will handle this all.

Varun is still upset because of whatever happened that day. Who wouldn't be?

What hurts me is— he had sex with Nandani.

It's secondary whether she took the advantage or he forced her, but the fact remains that they had IT.

It kills me to even imagine my husband having sex with that woman. Imagining him inside of her. It's painful.

And I'm so sure that it would be hurting him even more, knowing that he wasn't in his senses and someone took the advantage of him. It hurts. So freaking much.

Another reason that the air felt completely different today was, I was leaving.

The festive energy of Holi had faded into a calm stillness, and with it came the quiet realization that it was time to leave.

Time to return to my sasural, to the life I had built with my husband. But here, in my maternal home, I had spent the last few days surrounded by my sisters, their laughter, and the comfort of familiar walls. Now, the idea of leaving it all behind tugged at my heart in ways I hadn’t expected.

I glanced toward the doorway, where my sisters were standing, trying to mask their emotions. But I could see it in their eyes—the same heaviness, the same ache of separation that I felt.

I clutched the pallu of my saree, pulling it tightly around my shoulders, and looked over at my husband.

He was speaking to my father, his voice low and respectful, the way he always was around my family. My father, in turn, nodded occasionally, but I could see the sadness in his posture too. He never liked it when his daughters left.

No father ever does.

My heart tightened as I thought about my father.

His gruff exterior hides a tenderness that he shows only in moments like these—when his eyes lingered a little too long on me, and when his hands, rough from years of work, gently rested on my head as if in a silent blessing. He had barely spoken a word this morning, but I knew how much it pained him to see me leave.

My steps faltered. I walked back inside the house one last time, my eyes tracing every corner, every familiar crack in the walls.

This was where I had grown up. Where I had laughed, cried, and dreamed of my future.

I heard my name, and I turned to see Varun standing at the door, his expression soft and understanding.

He knew this was hard for me, harder than it had been before. Maybe because I had needed this time here more than ever, especially after everything that had happened between us, and me being pregnant.

His eyes met mine, and in them, I found the strength to take that step forward, which I always find.

My sisters approached me then, their smiles bittersweet.

Soma didi was the first to hug me, her arms tight around me as though she could hold me here forever if she wanted.

“Rona mat, Malini,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Hum jald hi milenge, theek hai?”

Roma didi followed , pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Khat likhte rehna, apna aur bacche ka khaas khyal rakhna,” she said, her voice shaky. “Hume bohot yaad aayegi tumhari.”