Tying The Knot With Ex's Brother

FORGIVENESS IN THE RAIN

The rain had not stopped. It poured endlessly, as if the sky itself mourned the pain between two souls.

Ragini stood by the door, watching the dark outline of Sparsh sitting on the wet pavement outside her house. He hadn't moved. Not once. The umbrella lay beside him untouched, his shirt soaked, lips trembling, eyes fixed on her window like it was his last hope.

Taking a deep breath, Ragini opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Her feet hesitated for a moment, but then she walked slowly, her saree getting wet, her hair sticking to her cheeks. Her parents watched from behind the curtain, holding their breath.

Sparsh heard her footsteps and looked up. When he saw her, he rose quickly, wiping his face even though the rain hid his tears.

"Ragini..." he whispered, stepping closer.

He moved to hug her-longing, desperate, hopeful-but she took a step back and raised her hand between them.

"Don't," she said firmly. "Please don't."

Sparsh stopped mid-step, his arms falling to his sides.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice tired and heavy. "Sitting here in the rain, begging for a second chance like this... Why now?"

"Because I was blind," he said. "And foolish. And... broken. And I know none of that changes what I did, but I had to come. I had to try."

She looked away, the rain running down her face like tears. "You broke me, Sparsh. You didn't just hurt me-you killed something inside me. You never even gave me the chance to explain. You chose to believe a lie... over your own wife."

"I know," he whispered. "I know. And I hate myself for it every single second."

"Then go," she said, her voice cracking. "Don't make this mess any bigger. I can't deal with more pain. Just... go."

"I can't," Sparsh said, taking another step forward. "I can't go without doing everything I can to earn your forgiveness. Even if it takes years."

"Sparsh-" she began, but stopped when he suddenly dropped to his knees in the mud.

She stared in disbelief as he bent forward and gently touched her feet, his fingers trembling.

"Please," he begged, voice breaking. "Please forgive me, Ragini. I was wrong. I didn't deserve your love. But I'm begging... for one more chance. Just one."

Her breath caught in her throat. The sight of him-drenched, shattered, kneeling before her-made her heart ache. She stood frozen, torn between her pain and the memory of their love.

Sparsh didn't look up. He remained bent, his forehead almost touching her feet, as if that one act could wash away his sins.

Minutes passed in silence. The rain was the only sound between them.

Finally, Ragini reached forward with shaking hands and pulled him up by his shoulders.

"You hurt me more than anyone else ever could," she whispered. "But I never stopped loving you... not even when I wanted to."

He looked up, eyes wide, lips quivering.

"And I hate that I still do," she added, her tears mixing with the rain.

Then, without another word, she pulled him into a hug.

Sparsh wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear again. They stood in the rain, clinging to each other-two broken hearts trying to heal in each other's warmth.

From inside, Ragini's parents watched the reunion silently. Her mother wiped a tear. Her father gave a quiet nod, a hint of relief softening his face.

"Come inside," Ragini finally whispered, pulling away just enough to see his face. "You'll catch a fever."

He didn't resist. He followed her, hand in hand, as they walked back to the house.

Her parents, still standing near the door, looked at them-soaked, shivering, but holding hands.

Her mother gently walked toward them with a small smile of relief. "Ragini, take him to your room," she said softly. "He needs to change before he catches a fever."

"Go take a hot shower," her father added, his tone warm but firm. "We'll get you some dry clothes. You've been sitting in the rain for hours."

Ragini nodded and led Sparsh down the corridor. As they walked, neither of them spoke, but their hands remained lightly intertwined. There was a new silence between them-one that wasn't heavy with pain, but peaceful.

Her mother knocked gently on the door a few minutes later, handing in a white kurta and pajamas for Sparsh.

"I've kept tea ready," she said. "Change quickly, both of you."

Ragini and Sparsh gave a small nod before gently closing the door again.

Sparsh turned to Ragini, still holding the towel.

"You go first," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"No, please-you first. You're freezing," he said sincerely.

After a short pause, she gave in. "Alright. I won't take long, okay?"

She disappeared into the washroom with a and towel in hand. As the sound of running water filled the room, Sparsh sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed bathroom door.

When Ragini stepped out after the shower, she looked fresher. She handed him the towel without a word and motioned to the bathroom.

Sparsh nodded and went in.

When he returned, his wet hair was pushed back, and he wore the clothes her mother had brought. He saw Ragini standing by the window, arms crossed. She didn't turn to look at him.

He quietly walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Let me dry your hair," he said softly.

She gently replied, "Have your tea first."

Just then, her mother came in with two cups of hot tea and coffee. They sat together, sipping in silence. The warmth of their drinks calmed their tired hearts, easing the heaviness between them. After they finished, Sparsh picked up the towel and carefully began to dry Ragini's hair with tender hands, each motion filled with unspoken care.

Sparsh looked at her damp hair and said softly, "Where's your dryer? I'll dry your hair. You'll fall sick otherwise."

Ragini didn't say anything, just gave him a brief glance and walked to the cupboard. She opened the drawer and pulled out the hair dryer. She gently took Sparsh by the hand and led him to the dressing table. Without meeting his eyes, she made him sit on the stool in front of the mirror.

"Sit still," she murmured.

She plugged in the dryer and began to run her fingers through his hair, drying it slowly, carefully. Her touch was tender. Sparsh watched her through the mirror. He didn't speak. Neither did she.

The hum of the dryer filled the room, but beneath it, a quiet understanding flowed between them. It was a silence that didn't hurt anymore. It was calm. Tranquil. A stillness that carried healing in every moment. No words were needed. Just the shared warmth of being near each other again.