Tying The Knot With Ex's Brother

FRAGMENTS OF A FAMILY

Sparsh extended a hand toward her. She hesitated, then placed her fingers lightly in his. No words were exchanged. Just a quiet understanding.

Hand in hand, they descended the stairs together.

In the living room, Sparsh's parents stood as they entered. His mother's eyes immediately filled with emotion at the sight of them walking together. His father, though quiet, appeared visibly moved.

Ragini let go of Sparsh's hand as they reached the last step and took a quiet step forward and slowly bent down, touching Sparsh's parents' feet-a gesture of respect, not just for tradition, but for the love she had for them in her heart, despite all that had happened.

Sparsh's mother could no longer hold back. With tear-filled eyes and trembling hands, she stepped forward and pulled Ragini into a tight, heartfelt embrace.

Ragini stood still for a moment, her body stiff with the surprise of the contact. But then, slowly, she allowed herself to melt into the hug, resting her chin lightly on her mother-in-law's shoulder.

As Ragini stepped back from the embrace, Sparsh's father moved closer. He had always been a man of few words-stern, composed, rarely emotional. But today, his expression was softer than she had ever seen.

He reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm yet comforting, carrying the weight of unspoken regret and newfound humility.

"How have you been, child?" he asked quietly, his voice low but sincere. "Truly... how are you doing?"

She gave a small nod, a quiet reassurance that she was holding herself together.

He gave a slow nod, his eyes glistening. "I'm sorry we weren't there to help you when you needed us the most."

Ragini offered a faint smile.

Just as the weight in the room began to settle into a tender quiet, Ragini's mother stepped forward with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Come," she said softly, glancing at Sparsh's parents. "Let's have breakfast."

Her voice carried the warmth of a host but also the care of a mother trying to ease the tension that still lingered in the air.

Ragini's father gave a faint smile and said, "Yes... let's talk more, but later."

Then, with a touch of humor in his voice, he added, "Let's do it on a full stomach. Conversations land better when no one's hungry."

The breakfast table had been a quiet but comforting space-filled with soft clinks of cutlery, the aroma of warm parathas and tea, and the tentative beginnings of normalcy. No heavy words were exchanged, but every now and then, glances held meaning, and small smiles dared to return.

After the meal, they all moved to the living room once again. The morning sun filtered through the curtains now, casting soft golden light across the floor. The air was lighter than before-but still laced with the unspoken.

They sat together-Ragini beside her mother, Sparsh across from her.

It was Ragini's father who finally broke the silence.

He cleared his throat gently and looked at Sparsh's parents with calm steadiness. "There's something I feel I should say... something that might help you understand our daughter a little more."

Everyone turned toward him. He looked at Ragini, who gave him a small, uncertain glance, then down at his hands folded in his lap.

"She never told us," he said quietly. "Not about the words that were said to her... not about how she was treated at your house."

"She stayed silent-not because she had nothing to say," he continued. "But because she didn't want us to worry... or worse, to think badly of you."

There was a stunned pause. Even Sparsh looked taken aback.

"She protected your image," her father said, his voice soft but edged with emotion. "Even when you didn't protect her."

Ragini's mother placed a hand gently over her daughter's. Sparsh's mother pressed her fingers to her lips, tears brimming once again.

"Oh, Ragini..." she whispered, guilt heavy in her tone. "I... we... truly don't deserve the grace you've shown."

Sparsh's father leaned forward, folding his hands. "We failed you. As parents. As elders. There's no excuse."

He paused, then added with deep sincerity, "But we want to make things right. Not with just words... but by being the family you once believed in."

Sparsh's mother nodded, wiping her eyes. "Come back, child. Please. The house isn't a home without you. Give us the chance to make it right."

All eyes turned to Ragini.

She looked at them for a long moment-silent, unreadable. Then she spoke, her voice calm but resolute.

"I appreciate your apology. And I hear your hearts. Truly," she said, her gaze steady and sincere. "But I can't return just because the door is open. I need to be sure it's a place I'll be safe-emotionally, mentally. That won't happen overnight."

She paused for a moment, then added with quiet firmness, "And as long as Sid is still living in that house... I can't come back."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and direct. Sparsh's parents looked at each other, stunned into silence.

"It's not just about what he said," Ragini continued. "It's about the fact that he was believed over me. Protected. Allowed to stay in the same space where I was being questioned, blamed, and eventually broken."

She glanced at Sparsh, then back at his parents. "I'm not asking you to choose between us. I would never want to deprive you of your son. Or Sparsh of his brother. But I can't live in the same house as the person who played such a big part in tearing my life apart."

Her voice softened, but the clarity in her tone remained. "This isn't about punishment. It's about peace. And right now, I won't find that under the same roof as Sid."

Sparsh lowered his eyes, the guilt washing over him again. His parents sat in silence, their expressions marked with remorse and the beginnings of understanding.

Her parents looked at one another in confusion, their brows furrowed, not quite understanding the name that had suddenly shifted the tone.

Her father gently placed his hand on Ragini's arm. "Sid?" he asked, his voice steady but puzzled. "What does Siddharth have to do with any of this?"

Ragini kept it brief-her parents deserved to know the truth, and there was no reason to shield it anymore. She said just enough for them to understand, because some truths, however painful, could no longer remain buried.

Her parents' faces fell with sorrow as the truth settled in. They had believed it was just a disagreement-a simple quarrel between the young couple. They never imagined the depth of pain Ragini had endured, or the silent battle she fought. The weight of what she'd revealed filled them with a quiet, aching worry for their daughter-worry that ran far deeper than they had ever realized.

"I need space," Ragini said, more gently now. "Not to sever ties-but to heal. And healing means protecting myself from what still hurts."

And with that, she leaned back slightly, her point made not in anger, but in unwavering truth.

Just then, the front door creaked open. Light footsteps followed.

"Bhaiya?" came a familiar voice. Sid appeared in the doorway, his presence shifting the air.