After last night’s revelation about her father, she couldn’t bring herself to meet Guru’s eyes. Who was she supposed to hate—the man who had kidnapped her, forced her into marriage, or the man who was the very reason behind every scar, every wound, every shattered life?

She needed courage—courage to look at Guru again, courage to face everyone who had suffered because of her father. Even calling him “father” felt like filth on her tongue, a sin in itself. To admit that she was his blood was enough to make her want to crawl out of her own skin.

Now she sat stiffly on the edge of a wooden chair inside the old woman’s house, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint clatter of utensils as the woman moved about in the other room, fetching water. Avni’s chest tightened. In her mind, she kept thinking—She won’t let me in. She’ll throw me out the moment she sees my face.

But what happened was the opposite. The door hadn’t closed on her. Instead, the old woman herself had stepped aside, looked at her for a long moment, and then, to Avni’s shock, called her inside. And now—she was even talking to her.

The weight of that unexpected acceptance sat heavier on Avni’s heart than rejection ever could.

She returned with a glass of water, her wrinkled hands trembling slightly as she held it out to Avni. Avni accepted it with both hands, her throat tight, words stuck somewhere deep inside. The old woman lowered herself onto the other khatiya, her bones creaking under the weight of years, yet her eyes—those tired, weather-beaten eyes—rested on Avni with a softness Avni hadn’t expected.

“Tum maafi maangne aayi ho… yaha uss paap ke liye jo tumne kiya bhi nahi.”

[“You came here to ask forgiveness… for a sin you never even committed.”]

Her lips twisted in a bitter scoff, though her voice cracked with the pain she carried.

“Galti meri hai… main bhi bhool gayi thi ki tumhara un sab mein koi haath nahi tha. Tum toh khud sabse anjaan thi… fir bhi maine tumhe un sabke liye kusurwaar bana diya.”

[“The fault is mine… I too forgot that you had no hand in any of it. You yourself were unaware of everything… yet I made you guilty for it all.”]

Her words didn’t hold anger anymore—only regret, only guilt that bled through her tone. And that softness cut Avni deeper than hatred ever could.

“Pata nahi gussa karun ya phir sharminda hoon… mere bete ne jo tumhare saath kiya, uske baad main khud tumse nazar tak nahi mila sakti.”

[“I don’t know whether to be angry or ashamed… after what my son did to you, I can’t even bring myself to meet your eyes.”]

“Apne bhi toh kuch nahi kiya… bas apne janam diya toh maine janm liya. Bas humara yahi rishta hai in logon se.”

[“You didn’t do anything either… you only gave birth, and I was born. That is the only bond I share with these people.”]

Avni’s voice was soft, almost fragile, yet steady enough to carry the weight of her truth. She tried to comfort the old woman, her eyes glistening, her lips trembling with every word.

The old woman inhaled deeply at Avni’s words, her chest rising as though she was finally able to breathe after years of suffocation. A faint smile touched her lips as she looked at Avni—soft, almost regretful—while the thought struck her of how terribly she had misunderstood this girl all along.

But finally misunderstanding cleared.

.

Avni ignored Guru as much as she could, avoiding him at every step—not out of hate, but because of the guilt that clung to her like a shadow. Yet her silence, her deliberate distance, only seemed to bother him more.

Finally, she stepped out of her room, heading toward the kitchen, only to be stopped midway by Guru. She tried to slip past him from one side, but he blocked her path. When she shifted to the other side, he stepped in again, blocking her once more.

“Hato… samne se.”

[“Move… out of my way.”]

Her voice carried irritation as she tried to push through, but he stood firm. She stopped, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, then lifted her finger and gestured for him to step aside. But instead, he shook his head, leaving her stunned, her eyes widening at his stubborn refusal.

“Guru, mujhe bhook lagi hai…”

[“Guru, I’m hungry…”]

“Raat ka khana abhi tak bana nahi hai,” he answered casually, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn’t his problem.

[“Dinner isn’t ready yet.”]

But even after replying, he didn’t move from her way. Avni tried to slip past him again, irritation flashing in her eyes, but this time his arm shot out in front of her, blocking her like a wall.

She scoffed, glaring daggers at him, and with a sharp huff turned to walk away. But before she could take even a step, his hand caught her wrist, firm and unyielding.

Avni let out a long, frustrated sigh in victory, thinking at last he would move aside. But instead, without warning, he bent down and lifted her into his arms.

“Kya kar rahe ho? Utaro mujhe!” she gasped, her legs kicking in the air, her voice high with outrage.

[“What are you doing? Put me down!”]

“Thik hai,” he murmured wickedly, loosening his hold as if to drop her.

[“Alright then.”]

Her breath hitched. Instantly, she clutched him tight, her fists grabbing the fabric of his shirt as she pressed her face into his chest, terrified he might actually let go. His deep laugh echoed in her ears, the sound warm and maddening, as his arms tightened around her protectively.

Still laughing, he held her firmly. Avni, cheeks burning hot, lifted one hand and smacked his chest with her fist, more a flustered tap than a real hit. But when she looked up, his face was lit with unrestrained laughter—eyes crinkling, lips curved in a way she had never seen before.

A blush crept up her face, spreading to her ears. Her heart stuttered at the sight, but stubborn as ever, she quickly looked away, forcing her lips in thin line and her eyes into a glare.

He finally set her down once they entered the kitchen.

“Kya khana hai tujhe?” he asked, already scanning the shelves and baskets for something to cook.

[“What do you want to eat?”]

“Main khud bana lungi.”

[“I’ll make it myself.”]

“Ae, apun yeh kitchen barbaad nahi karna chahta…” he muttered, still rummaging through vegetables without sparing her a glance.

[“Hey, I don’t want you to destroy this kitchen…”]

“Mujhe khana banana aata hai… maine tumhe jhoot kaha tha.” Avni’s voice slipped out, low but firm.

His hands froze in mid-air. Slowly, he turned to look at her, brows raised.

“Apun woh do minute me banti hai Maggi khane mein interested nahi hai abhi.” He scoffed, lips twitching.

[“I’m not interested in eating that two-minute Maggi right now.”]

“MUJHE KHANA BANANA ATA HAI! MAGGI BHI, AUR SAARE INDIAN FOODS—DAL, CHAWAL, ROTI, VEG, NON-VEG SAB!” she blurted out all at once, cheeks puffed in irritation. “NIKLO YAHA SE, AB!”

[“I know how to cook! Maggi too, and all Indian foods—dal, rice, roti, veg, non-veg, everything! Now get out from here!”]

Guru blinked at her, surprised, while she marched toward the basket, grabbing vegetables. Without waiting for him, she began washing them in the steel sink, movements sharp and determined.

“Matlab… itne dino se apun ko tune bewakoof banaya?” he muttered, realization dawning on his face.

[“That means… all this time, you’ve been fooling me?”]

Avni didn’t even look at him, just shrugged with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Haan, aisa keh sakta hai…”

[“Yes, you could say that…”]

“Fir bhi apun banayega khana…” he blurted out stubbornly.

[“Still, I’ll be the one to cook…”]

Avni froze, staring at him in disbelief, the potato still clutched in her hand. Slowly, she put both hands on her waist, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Kaise insaan ho tum? Khana banane ke liye lad rahe ho! Aaj mera kissa khatam karne ka iraada hai kya?”

[“What kind of man are you? Fighting over cooking! Do you plan to end my story today?”]

Guru didn’t even flinch. Instead, he shot back with equal intensity, though his words carried a teasing spark.

“Yeh apun ko poochna chahiye tujhse! Itne mahino mein tune apun ko aaj hi kyun bataya yeh sab? Apun ko marna nahi hai itni jaldi… abhi toh apun ke bacche bhi nahi hue hai.”

[“That’s what I should ask you! Why did you wait all these months to tell me this? I don’t plan on dying so soon… I don’t even have kids yet.”]

The last sentence slipped out before he could stop himself. Realization struck, but it was too late.

Avni’s glare sharpened instantly, her cheeks burning. “Bakwas mat karo!” she snapped through gritted teeth, fury and embarrassment mixing in her tone.

[“Don’t talk nonsense!”]

“Aur waise bhi… yeh apun ka ghar hai. Yaha ki har cheez apun ki hai. Yeh bhi… yeh bhi… yeh bhi… aur yeh—” Guru started pointing at random things in the kitchen, his voice cocky and teasing.

Then, all of a sudden, his finger shifted, and he pointed straight at her. Taking a slow step closer, his tone dropped, deep and deliberate.

“—aur yeh bhi.”

[“—and this too.”]

Before Avni could even react, he leaned in and swiftly snatched the potato from her hand. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of her waist  sending a shiver racing through her.

He finally moved away, as if nothing had happened, while Avni struggled to act normal. Her heart was still racing, but she forced herself to clear her throat and look away, pretending the moment hadn’t affected her.

“Mujhe yeh nahi khana… mujhe Maggi khani hai,” she muttered, folding her arms stubbornly.

[“I don’t want to eat this… I want Maggi instead.”]

“Woh ghar pe nahi hai,” Guru replied flatly, already reaching for another basket.

[“That’s not at home.”]

“Blinkit kar lo…” she shot back casually.

[“Order it from Blinkit…”]

His brows furrowed. “Kya?”

[“What?”]

“Soori ya Jai se bol do lane ko,” she said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

[“Tell Soori or Jai to bring it.”]

“Apun ko banate nahi aata…” he muttered, almost sulking.

[“I don’t know how to make it…”]

“Main bana dungi, I swear zeher nahi milaungi, Guru… chalo, call karo unhe.” Avni’s lips curved in a sly smile as she stepped behind him and started pushing him toward the door.

[“I’ll make it, I swear I won’t mix poison in it, Guru… come on, call them.”]

“Jao, jao… call karo!” she added, shoving at his back with both hands, her tone half-annoyed, half-teasing.

[“Go on, go! Call them!”]

Avni chopped the potatoes and tomatoes quickly, barely bothering with the other vegetables—she wasn’t fond of too many. Just ten minutes later, Soori arrived, carrying what seemed like a hundred packets of Maggi.

“Bhabhi, woh dukaan me khatam hogaye, toh apun itne hi la paya aaj ke liye… ho jayenge ke nahi!?” he asked nervously, giving Avni a mini heart attack.

[“Sister-in-law, they were finished at the shop, so I could only bring this many for today… will this be enough or not!?”]

For today? What do they take me for—an animal? Avni thought, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Sirf humare liye banana hai… poore gaav ke liye nahi…”

[“We’re only cooking for ourselves… not the entire village…”]

“Apun ko laga aapko pasand hai, toh aap toh poora kha jayengi—” Jai stopped mid-sentence as Avni glared at him, knife raised threateningly in her hand.

[“I thought you liked it, so I figured you’d eat it all—”]

“Teeno, bahar wait karo… kitchen me koi nahi ayega.” Her glare shifted to Guru, sharp and commanding, as if her words were meant only for him.

[“All three of you, wait outside… no one is coming into the kitchen.”]

“Nahi bhabhi, hum nahi khayenge. Aap aur bhai khaiye, hum ja rahe hain…” Jai said, bowing slightly as he tried to leave.

[“No, sister-in-law, we won’t eat. You and brother have it—we’re leaving…”]

Avni looked at them, confused. “Kyu?”

[“Why?”]

Jai glanced at Guru, who deliberately avoided his gaze. It was obvious—Guru was the one who had given the order over the phone that they shouldn’t stay with them.

“Hume bas kaam hai,” he muttered, and without arguing further, both Jai and Soori dashed away, leaving Guru and Avni alone in the kitchen.

[“We just have work.”]

She cooked the Maggi, and they both ate together, the simple meal tasting better than anything else. Guru couldn’t hide his quiet relief—he was genuinely glad she hadn’t burnt the kitchen. Even now, it was hard for him to believe she actually knew how to cook.

“Main kar lungi… tum ja sakte ho,” she said firmly when he tried to help with the dishes.

[“I’ll do it… you can leave.”]

But he didn’t utter a word. Instead, he picked up the scrubber and started rubbing the dishes while she washed them, silently helping without a word.

“Thanks…” she murmured, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Hmmm… tujhe dobara yeh sab karne ki jarurat nahi hai.”

[“Hmm… you won’t need to do all this again.”]

“Hmm?” she asked, glancing at him, curious.

“Yeh sab… agar tujhe kuch khana hai, toh banane ke liye Soori, Jai aur apun hai… aur iske liye bhi…”

[“All this… if you want something to eat, Soori, Jai, and I will cook for you… even for this…”]

She froze, looking at him, unable to understand how he knew what was going on in her mind. She had thought of doing all the household work because maybe she deserved everything that had happened to her.

“Hmmm,” she hummed softly, a strange warmth curling inside her chest as he finished washing his hands after they cleaned all the dishes together.

“Aaj main bohot logo se mili…meri nani se bhi  aur ek ajeeb baat pata chali… meri mumma ki dusri payal… woh

nani ke pass thi hi nahi. Use toh bohot pehle hi mama ne bech di thi. Tumne hi unhe same mumma ki jaisi payal banwa ke di, taki jab main milu unse, toh mujhe woh payal wapis mil jaye…”

[“Today I met a lot of people…even my grandmother and learned something strange… my mother’s second anklet… it was not with my grandmother. Uncle had sold it a long time ago. You were the one who gave the same anklet to them right? so that when I met her, I’d get it back…”]

She stopped mid-sentence,  when suddenly his lips pressed gently on her forehead. His hands cupped her cheeks, warm and steady.

“Apun sone ja raha hai… bohot raat hogayi hai.”

[“I’m going to sleep… it’s very late.”]

Her heart skipped a beat, the quiet intimacy of the gesture leaving her stunned and strangely comforted, as if the world outside had ceased to exist for a moment.