Guru was sure she wouldn’t come—not after last night’s drama. Why would she? She hadn’t opened the door since then, not even once. And truth be told, he didn’t try to bring her out either.

Now, standing in front of her door that morning, he knocked three times.

Silence.

Just as expected.

Have to take that anklet back.

He took out his phone and dialed Amrita.

“Gur—”

“Ammu, woh Payal… apun ko wapas chahiye,” (Ammu, that anklet… I want it back) he cut her off, not letting her finish her sentence.

There was a pause. Then she replied, almost hesitantly, “Ghar par hoon…” (I’m at home…)

He didn’t bother saying anything else. No goodbye. No explanation.

Sliding into his jeep, he started the engine without another thought.

The house stood in front of him—decorated from top to bottom. Bright lights, fresh flowers, the usual chaos.

It was a wedding house, after all. Nothing unusual about it.

Except… everything felt off.

Ignoring everything around him, Guru started looking for Amrita. He walked straight to her room—but it was locked. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number, but it said the phone was switched off.

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, gripping it for a second.

“Guru…”

He turned around at the sound of Arpana’s voice—Amrita’s mother.

“Tum yahan? Taiyar bhi nahi hue...”

(You’re here? And not even ready yet...)

“Woh... apne Amrita ko dekha hai kya?”

(Umm... have you seen Amrita?)

“Haan, woh abhi hi tumhare ghar gayi hai. Pooja ki thali aur nayi saree dene... tumhari biwi ke liye.”

(Yes, she just left for your house. To give the puja plate and a new saree… for your wife.)

Guru let out a breath of relief.

“Thik hai...”

(Alright...)

he muttered, and without wasting another second, he rushed out of there.

But just as Guru reached the gate, Sanjay stepped in his way.

“Tum itni jaldbazi mein kahan ja rahe ho? Aur taiyar bhi nahi hue…”

(Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry? And you’re not even dressed yet…)

Guru halted, caught off guard. His eyes darted around, searching for an excuse—any excuse.

Lying had never been his thing, especially not to Sanjay. The man had always trusted him blindly, treated him like his own. And now, hiding the truth from him felt... wrong.

But what was he supposed to say?

That he came all the way here just for Avni’s precious anklet?

That a piece of silver was dragging him through fire?

No. That would raise more questions than answers. It would complicate everything. Maybe even ruin something.

Before Guru could come up with a convincing lie, a loud screech interrupted them. Both he and Sanjay turned toward the gate just in time to see a car pull up hurriedly.

The door flew open—and Amrita stepped out, limping slightly, her forehead bruised, her saree disheveled.

Guru’s eyes widened in shock. So did Sanjay’s.

“Amrita!” they both shouted in unison as they rushed toward her.

Without thinking, Guru reached her first, gently holding her by the shoulders to steady her. Her breath caught the moment his hands touched her—an involuntary blush rising to her cheeks, despite the pain.

“Kya hua?” he asked, voice low but sharp with concern. (What happened?)

“Woh... humara chhota sa accident ho gaya,” she said softly. (There was a small accident...)

“...aur pooja ki thali, aur Maa ne jo saree di thi… sab kichad mein gir gaya.”

(And the puja plate... and the saree Maa gave… they both fell in the mud.)

Her eyes dropped to the ground, ashamed and disappointed.

Sanjay’s fists clenched in rage. His voice thundered, “Kisne kiya yeh sab?” (Who did this?!)

But before he could explode further, Amrita placed a calming hand on his arm.

“Nahi Papa... aaj Guru ka special day hai. Abhi jaane dijiye.” (No Papa... today is Guru’s special day. Let it go, please.)

Her voice was gentle but firm. She looked at Guru with a faint, reassuring smile, trying to hide her own pain.

Sanjay exhaled slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. Then he turned to Guru and said,

“Guru, ise andar leke ja.”

(Guru, take her inside.)

Guru nodded silently.

Without hesitation, he reached for Amrita’s hand—firm, steady, protective.

She let him.

“Guru…” she whispered, her voice barely audible—but it was enough to catch his attention.

He looked at her, slowing his steps just a little. There was something in her eyes. Guilt? Fear? Maybe both.

“Darasal Payal mere paas hi thi…” (Actually, I had the anklet with me...)

“Jab tumhare ghar aa rahi thi, toh socha… woh de dungi.” (When I was coming to your house, I thought I’d give it to you.)

She paused, biting her lower lip.

“Par gaadi kharaab ho gayi aadhe raste mein…” (But the car broke down halfway...)

“Main bahar utri hi thi ki ek gaadi ne mujhe takkar de di.” (And just as I stepped out, another car hit me.)

Her eyes dropped, shame washing over her face.

“Is wajah se saara samaan… sab kuch ek khet mein gir gaya. Aur… woh Payal bhi.” (Because of that, everything… all the stuff fell into a field. And… the anklet too.)

Her voice broke slightly on the last words.

She looked up at him, searching for anger, disappointment—anything in his eyes. But he just kept walking beside her, silent.

“Guru…” Amrita called him softly.

He glanced at her, slowing down.

“Darasal Payal mere paas hi thi…”

(Actually, I had the anklet with me...)

“Jab tumhare ghar aa rahi thi toh socha de dungi…”

(When I was coming to your house, I thought I’d give it to you.)

“Par aadhe raste mein gaadi kharaab ho gayi… aur jab main bahar utri toh ek gaadi ne takkar de di.” (But halfway, the car broke down… and when I stepped out, another car hit me.)

She paused, looking down.

“Sab saman ek khet mein gir gaya… aur woh Payal bhi.”

(Everything fell into a field… including the anklet.)

“Mujhe maaf kar do… mujhe kal aisa behave nahi karna chahiye tha.” (I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have behaved like that yesterday.)

“Aaj socha chhoti wali road se aa jaaun, isiliye kacchi sadak le li… par sab meri galti thi.”

(I thought I’d take the shorter road, that’s why I took the rough way… but it was my fault.)

Guru looked at her, his expression softening with guilt. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a small smile.

“Koi baat nahi…”

(It’s okay…)

“Apun ne tujhe isi liye call kiya tha, kyunki usne mana kar diya pooja mein aane se…”

(I only called you because she refused to come to the pooja...)

“Toh socha thoda blackmail kar le… zyada kuch nahi. Apun ko koi farak nahi padta.” (So I thought I’d blackmail her a little… nothing serious. It doesn’t matter to me.)

He smiled lightly, but deep down he knew he wasn’t being honest—not with her, and not with himself.

Amrita gave a small nod, staying quiet. But inside, her heart wasn’t calm.

She didn’t like the way Guru cared for Avni.

And she didn’t like that she had to fake an accident just to get his attention.

But if this is what it took—she was ready.

Even if she had to keep pretending.

---

“Bhai, apun ko nahi lagta yeh pooja karni chahiye…” Guru said, his voice low. “Woh nahi aayegi.”

(Brother, I don’t think we should do the pooja… she won’t come.)

“Nahi aayegi matlab?!” Arpana snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Use ghaseetkar leke aao fir!” (What do you mean she won’t come? Then drag her here!)

Her words were sharp, filled with irritation — not just for this situation, but for Guru himself. It always stung her how her husband treated Guru like his own blood, when he wasn’t.

Sanjay gently placed a calming hand on her shoulder, silently telling her to stop.

He looked at Guru and softly said, “Uske bina bhi pooja ho jaayegi. Kabhi kabhi kuchh ichhayein adhuri reh jaati hain.”

(We’ll do the pooja without her. Sometimes, some wishes just remain unfulfilled.)

His words were simple, but his eyes shifted toward Arpana — and that line hit her harder than she expected.

It wasn’t just about the pooja. It was something more.

Sanjay continued after a pause, looking back at Guru.

“Aisa nahi hai ki pooja uske bina ho nahi payegi…” (It’s not that the pooja can’t happen without her…)

“Par yeh pooja teri maa ki ichha thi… jahan woh chahti thi ki unki bahu yeh pehli pooja kare.” (But this pooja was your mother’s wish… she wanted her daughter-in-law to do the first ritual after her.)

Guru looked down, guilt washing over him again.

Sanjay sighed, his tone heavy now.

“Par ab sab taiyaari ho chuki hai… toh ek naam ki pooja kar lete hain. Par teri maa ke mann ko shanti milegi ya nahi, yeh mujhe nahi pata.”

(But since everything is prepared, let’s at least do it in name. I just don’t know if your mother’s soul will find peace like this.)

He paused, glancing once more at Arpana.

“Waise bhi… yeh pehli pooja thi us ghar mein uski maut ke baad…” (And anyway… this was the first pooja in that house after her death…)

The silence that followed was heavy.

“Itna toh main jaanta tha… woh ladki kuch na kuch karegi,”

Sanjay scoffed, shaking his head. (I knew it… that girl was bound to pull something.)

“Kal hi toh kaha tha usne… agar pooja Guru ki maa ke liye hai, toh yeh unke ghar se honi chahiye,” he said with a mocking smile. (Just yesterday, she said — If the pooja is for Guru’s mother, then it should happen from her house.)

Then he let out a dry chuckle.

“Main toh kal aise hi bol gaya tha… nirjala upwaas ke liye.”

(I just said it casually yesterday… because of the fasting.)

He shook his head again with a smirk, but then his eyes suddenly turned sharp as he looked directly at Guru.

“Aaj jaane dete hain…” he said, voice serious now. (We’ll let it go today…)

“Par kal… is ladki ko sabak sikhana padega.” (But tomorrow… this girl needs to be taught a lesson.)

Guru’s throat went dry. He hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Still, he nodded silently.

.....

The temple was dressed for the occasion — walls wrapped in marigold garlands, air heavy with incense and fresh flowers. Every corner shone in the morning sunlight. People around were draped in crisp new clothes, the priest sat ready, mantras softly humming through the air.

But to Guru… everything felt off.

Lifeless.

He sat there in his white dhoti, scarf resting around his neck, hands joined mechanically — but there was no peace in his heart.

Because what was the point?

What was this pooja even for?

His mother’s photo stared back at him, smiling softly. That same mother who had just one wish — to see her daughter-in-law perform this pooja in their home.

And he failed her.

He couldn’t bring Avni.

Couldn’t keep his promise.

He had hurt everyone — especially the one woman who meant something.

His fists clenched on his lap.

The priest spoke gently, “Ankhein band kijiye, beta…”

(Close your eyes, son.)

He did.

And all he saw was darkness.

Suffocating, endless darkness.

No chants, no flowers, no people could fill the void inside him. The weight of guilt, regret, helplessness pressed down on his chest like a storm refusing to end.

Then—

A shift in the wind.

A subtle hush spread across the hall.

He heard a voice — soft, breathless, surprised.

"Avni..."

His eyes flew open.

He turned his head toward the stairs, breath catching in his throat.

There she was.

Avni.

Walking slowly down the steps.

Her yellow saree glowing in the morning light like a soft flame. Hair neatly tied in a bun, gajra swaying with every step. Her face — calm, unreadable, but radiant.

In that moment… she wasn’t just walking toward him.

She was slicing through his darkness like a ray of light.

Everything around him blurred — the priest, the temple, the crowd.

He couldn’t hear a thing.

Except the sound of her bangles, soft and rhythmic, matching the beat of his heart.

A heart that hadn’t melted in years…

Now felt like it was cracking.

His throat tightened. His lips parted slightly. And before he could stop it — a tear escaped.

She didn’t say anything.

She just walked up… and stood beside him.

And in that moment, with her standing there — silent, strong, glowing —

He finally felt something again.

Everything started feeling right.

---

His eyes refused to blink.

He just stared — stunned — like the ground beneath him had shifted.

She came.

Avni.

After everything he did... after the words that weren’t just sharp but cruel, after shutting the door on her presence and the pooja both, she still came.

Wrapped in a soft yellow saree that glowed like morning sunlight, hair tied in a delicate bun, and eyes holding a calm silence that spoke louder than any confrontation ever could.

Was she even real?

For a second, he truly questioned it.

His heart, which had turned to stone long ago, now trembled like a leaf in storm. His fingers twitched, and guilt came crashing over him like a tide he couldn’t escape.

She had every reason to stay away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she walked in with grace, holding the pooja thali like it was her duty — no drama, no accusations — just presence. Powerful, gentle, and enough to choke him with the emotion he'd buried too deep.

He quickly looked away.

Shame stung in his chest, burning more than he thought it would.

Avni reached the priest and quietly placed the thali in his hands.

“Yeh prasad… mujhe late ho gaya thoda.” (This prasad… I got a little late.)

The priest smiled gently and gestured toward the empty space beside Guru.

Without a second thought, she sat.

No glances. No expectations.

Just silence.

She closed her eyes, her face soft, as if nothing had happened… as if she wasn’t sitting next to the man who broke her heart just yesterday.

But Guru?

He couldn't pray.

His hands were joined, but not in devotion — in disbelief.

He kept looking at her, as if seeing something he'd never truly seen before.

She wasn’t just the girl he fought with.

She wasn’t just his revenge plan

She was… something more.

And the soft corner inside him — the one he had always ignored, always guarded — suddenly began to ache.

Like it had been waiting for her all this time.

He slowly closed his eyes.

And this time… the darkness wasn’t haunting.

It was peaceful.

Because Avni was there — not just beside him.

But somewhere much deeper.

Where no one had ever reached.

She looked like peace

Like home.

She saved him from failing  as son.