Fragments of Ruhi

Akshara's Diary

The Poddar mansion had never felt more suffocating to Ruhi.

Months had passed since Rohit’s death, yet grief hadn’t softened—if anything, it had morphed into a cage around her heart. Armaan, obsessed with the child she now carried, had begun to dictate every moment of her life: what she ate, how much she exercised, when she could rest, even which doctor she should see. Every gesture, every instruction, felt like a chain tightening around her chest.

Ruhi had tried to reason with him at first, her voice gentle but firm. “Armaan, please… I’m comfortable with my doctor. She knows my history. I don’t want to change.”

But her words fell on deaf ears. Armaan had already fixed an appointment with a specialist of his choosing, indifferent to her wishes.

Desperate, she had turned to Abhira. “Please… talk to him. I don’t want a new doctor. He’ll listen to you.”

Abhira’s face betrayed helplessness, caught between her husband’s obsession and her own conscience. “Ruhi… I tried. I really did. But Armaan is stubborn when it comes to the baby… he won’t listen. Not to me, not to anyone.”

That helplessness had broken something inside Ruhi. For the first time, she felt utterly alone in the Poddar house. Rohit was gone, and the only person she trusted had proven powerless to protect her.

That night, staring at the cold ceiling of her room, Ruhi made a decision. She could not—would not—live under anyone’s control anymore.

The next morning, she packed her bags quietly. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving, yet a fierce resolve burned in her chest. Looking down at little Ruhaan, sleeping peacefully in his cradle, she whispered, “Mumma won’t let anyone control our life anymore.”

By afternoon, Ruhi arrived at the Goenka house with Ruhaan in her arms. The elders were initially shocked but soon welcomed her warmly, sensing her fragile state. Suwarna held her close whispering soft words of reassurance, while Surekha took Ruhaan into her lap, showering him with affection. For the first time in months, Ruhi felt a little at peace.

But that peace was short-lived. Later that evening, Armaan stormed into Goenka house, determined to take her back to the Poddar mansion. His tone was firm as he said, “Ruhi, you can’t just walk out like this. You’re carrying my child, and I have every right to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Ruhi straightened, clutching Ruhaan protectively against her chest. Her eyes met Armaan’s, unwavering. “You have no right over me, Armaan,” she said, her voice steady but cold. “I am not going back.”

Armaan’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Ruhi, don’t be stubborn. The Poddar house is your home. Think about the child—”

“I am thinking about my child,” Ruhi cut him off sharply. “That’s why I’m here. I want peace. Not orders. Not control. Peace.”

The Goenka elders shifted uneasily, but they didn’t intervene. The silence of the house carried the weight of her words.

For the first time, Armaan faltered, seeing the steel in Ruhi’s eyes. She wasn’t the same woman who once stayed quiet for the sake of family. This was Ruhi taking a stand.

Ruhi turned away from him, her voice final. “Go back, Armaan. Ruhaan and I are staying here.”

The next morning, the Goenka house felt unusually quiet. Ruhi walked slowly through the wide corridors, her eyes heavy from lack of sleep after last night’s confrontation with Armaan. She had refused his words, his insistence that she go back with him, and instead had stayed back in her maayka.