Tying The Knot With Ex's Brother

TIME SAID- STAY AWAY

Sid walked in slowly, each step hesitant. The usual pride in his posture was gone. No smirk. No arrogance. Only the echo of someone who had lost the right to stand tall. His shoulders were slumped, his steps unsure, and his eyes—once sharp with control—now held something unexpected: remorse.

His gaze scanned the room, pausing when it met Ragini's parents. He straightened slightly and folded his hands in a gesture of respect. But there was no response.

Her father remained still, his expression unreadable. Her mother's lips tightened, her eyes flickering toward him and then away, as if even acknowledging him required effort.

Sid held the gesture a moment longer, then dropped his hands slowly. Respect, he now knew, was not something one could claim—it had to be earned. And he had a long way to go.

The silence lingered, thick and cold, until his mother's voice—soft but heavy—broke through.

"Why are you here, Sid?"

He looked up at her, guilt etched deep into his features.

"I stayed in the house because I thought... if I didn't run, if I stayed and faced the silence, the pain I caused, maybe I could start making things right."

Then his eyes turned toward Ragini, and his voice wavered.

"But if my presence here makes it harder for you to heal... if it hurts even more to see me... I'll leave. Right now. I won't argue. You've already suffered too much because of me."

And then, to everyone's surprise, Sid dropped to his knees before her.

"Please," he whispered, his hands joined in front of her. "Come back to the house. Not for me—I don't deserve that. But for Ma and Papa. For Bhaiya. They miss you. They love you. And they want to make things right."

Tears welled in his eyes. "I twisted truths. I planted doubts. I broke what you two had. I'll carry that guilt forever. But please... don't let my sins destroy the love that still exists around you."

He bowed his head lower, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'm not here to be accepted. I'm here to take responsibility. To say sorry—not just with words, but with the actions I choose next."

Silence once again settled over the room.

Ragini sat unmoving, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she rose, her presence quiet yet commanding.

"I appreciate your apology, Siddharth," she said, voice steady. "And I hope that someday you're able to forgive yourself. Truly. But I'm not ready to return—not out of anger, but because healing doesn't come with apologies alone. It comes with time."

Sid nodded, head still bowed.

"I'm not asking you to leave," she continued. "Stay. Stay in that house. Not to prove anything to me, but to earn back the trust of the people you hurt. Of your parents. Of Sparsh. Of yourself."

She turned to Sparsh's parents. "You asked me to come back. But if you want to truly make it right... start with him. Don't brush this under the rug. Don't cover it with good intentions. Make sure he earns your forgiveness."

Then she looked back at Sid. Her voice softened, but her eyes remained resolute.

"I hope you stay—not for redemption, but to become someone who will never let this happen again."

Sparsh had stood silently through it all, his expression caught between pain and understanding. Finally, he stepped forward and stood beside his brother—not in alliance, but in reckoning.

"You want forgiveness?" Sparsh said quietly. "Then stand up. Not for me. Not for Ragini. But for yourself."

Sid looked up at him, surprised, and slowly rose to his feet, wiping his tears but still unable to meet anyone's eyes.

Their father leaned forward, his tone steady but firm. "Sid, if you mean what you said—if you want to take responsibility—then understand this: it's not just about regret. It's about what you do next. Words won't be enough."

His mother added gently, "We raised you to be better. Somewhere along the way, we all failed each other. But maybe this... this is your beginning."

Sid gave a faint nod. "I want to change. I'm ready to."

Ragini looked around the room—at Sid, at Sparsh, at their  parents. Her voice was quiet, but every word rang clear.

"I've forgiven you," she said, looking at Sparsh. "Not because it was easy, but because I love you."

She turned to Sid.

"But not you. Not yet."

A pause. The words landed with truth, not vengeance.

"I hope I can, one day. For my sake, not yours. Because forgiveness isn't about letting someone off the hook—it's about freeing myself from what they did."

She took a breath, the weight of her emotions measured and controlled.

"For now, I need space. I need time. To forget—not the facts, but the feeling. And that... doesn't happen in a day."

She stepped back beside her mother and sat, her composure untouched, her strength undeniable.

And this time, no one filled the silence.

Because this silence was not made of brokenness.

It was made of truth, of reckoning, and of a beginning.

Two Years Later

Morning light spilled into the room as Sparsh woke with a quiet stretch. A faint smile tugged at his lips—peaceful, unhurried.

Sparsh walked into the kitchen, the familiar aroma of cardamom tea and crisp parathas filling the air. His mother was busy kneading dough, while Sush stood beside her, chopping coriander with quiet focus. The two worked in sync—moving comfortably around each other, as if this routine had been theirs for years.

Sparsh leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment. Then he smiled slightly and asked, "When did you get here?"

Sush looked up from the chopping board, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Ten minutes before you finally woke up," she teased lightly.

Just then, Sid walked into the kitchen, stretching and yawning.

"Something smells amazing," he said, walking past Sparsh and heading straight to where Sush was standing.

Without a second thought, he leaned in and placed a light kiss on her cheek. "Morning," he murmured with a soft smile.

Sush glanced at him, amused. "Finally awake?"

Sid grinned. "Couldn't miss breakfast. Especially not when you are here."

As they sat at the dining table, Sush picked up her glass and said casually, "Ragini will be coming back next week."

Sid stiffened, the spoon in his hand pausing mid-air. His eyes flicked to Sparsh, then back to his plate, a trace of nervousness crossing his face.

The table fell briefly silent. Sparsh didn't say a word—just kept eating, slower now, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Noticing Sid's unease, Sush gently placed her hand over his.

"Relax," she said softly. "She's not coming back for the past. Just to start fresh—in her own way."

Sparsh didn't say a word—just kept eating, slower now, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.