"Tumhe Aniket se dosti nahi karni chahiye Sai."
Sai turned away from her husband, clutching her blanket to her chest. Belatedly, she heard him move beside her, away from her or towards her, in her fury she no longer cared.
She no longer wanted to entertain her husband's notions of control, and she was tired of him handing her commands under the guise of her immaturity. After a beat of quiet, just when Sai thought she could find some solace in sleep, he spoke again.
"Sai tum sunn rahi ho na?"
She almost bit her tongue to keep from yelling, instead digging her nails further into her palm under her blanket. Sai wanted to dig her nails into his face, arms, whatever part of him she could grasp. Virat Chavan was not a man she could fully comprehend. Unlike the equations in her organic chemistry books, Virat Chavanwas an anomaly that drove her up a wall.
When he spoke again, she could have sworn he was speaking from a dream of his own, his voice lighter and softer. "Shayad … shayad so gayi ho."
"Yeh ghar, mera parivaar, woh tumhari har decision par kuch na kuch galtiyan nikalenge Sai. Main bas woh sab avoid karna chahta hoon, tumhari khatir."
She wanted to scream at him, wanted to tell him that regardless of what she did, his family would never want her here. They would never come to respect her. That the way they spoke to her should be enough for him to understand that it does not matter if Sai Joshi was a saint, she would still be treated as less than human in this house. She wanted him to feel the hurt she felt, the disgust at herself, the anger at continuously being told she would never, ever, be loved in this house.
And yet, she remained still. Unmoved by her husband's easily callous words. Sai missed her father. She missed his easy warmth, his lovely laughter, but most of all she missed the way he loved her. As if nothing could ever touch her, nothing could ever be spoiled or ruined by her, because she was the light of her abha's life. Sai felt her entire body shake then, unable to control the onslaught of her tears and exhaustion and sadness and fury.
Virat was at her side but in the raging storm of her own emotions, she could not sense him. She felt alone, so deeply alone. She wanted to crawl into bed with her aai, be held by her warmth. She wanted to be far, far away from here. If her father had been buried, she would have dug the earth to lay beside him in this moment.
"Please," she choked out, heaving through every word as if it hurt to get them out, "don't touch me."
Virat burned at the sound of her words. At once, he pulled back his hand that rested on her back, the heat of her scalding through his skin. Virat had seen Sai cry before, countless times. He had seen her defeated, angry, happy, loving, carefree, sad.
Yet, he had never seen Sai like this. As if her entire body cried out for some sort of release that would not come. He wanted to hold her again but was afraid of what she might do if he did.
"Sai," he heard himself whisper, scared, afraid of what was happening to her.
"I never wanted to marry you," she bit out, and Virat felt his heart fall out of his chest. She had said this to him in anger, had implied it through countless actions and arguments, but Sai had never spoken the truth to him as if it was an admission of something.
Virat was on his knees before her, his hands on either side of her, clutching their bedsheet. He made no move to touch her, but when she lifted her head to look him in his eyes, Virat thought he was drowning.
"I hate it here Virat sir," she whispered, the tears falling without hesitancy. Virat took a deep breath and looked at her with a clarity he had never felt before.
He had done this to her. I never wanted to marry you was her admission of never wanting to be here. In this moment, with him. Sai was crying, her entire body shaking with a fever he could not place, and she was hurting. Filled to the brim with pain so agonizing it had come rushing out of her. And he had done this.
"Your house, this family, you see them as these people who, if I just tried hard enough, they would leave me alone," she fought out, her hands shaking as she clutched the mattress beside his own hands.
"You never listen, you haven't listened. You take my side but you never listen."
Virat felt blood rush to his head. "Sai-"
"No," she said, in a nearly feral whisper that made Virat lose his balance.
He felt her before he saw her, rushing up as if to get away from him. At once he was on his feet, surrounding her but never touching her.
"I need, air," she choked out, "I nee-"
As if by instinct, he felt the tug of her fall in the dark, as if every cell in his body only ever anticipated her every move. His hand was at her back, catching her as she fell. For a moment, a small moment only privy to him, he held her to him. He cleared the cloud of her hair from her face, clearing the few strands that had stuck to her skin from her tears. He was aware then, of just how small Sai was.
When she was yelling, berating him for his faults, cleaning the messes of the world, SaiJoshi was larger than life. Certainly larger than Virat. But in this moment, defeated and exhausted, Sai was so small that Virat felt his heart break at the sight of her.
Lifting her carefully, he placed her back on her side of their bed. Sitting beside her, Virat hesitated but held her cold, soft hand in his. Her wedding ring glistened under his thumb and Virat could remember the look in her eyes when he'd placed the ring on her finger. There had been anger that day, defeat too, but a small hope that he would hold true to his word.
He realized now, that he hadn't. All the promises he'd given her before he'd married her, the ones he'd continued to make after marrying her, none of them had held true. He had taken a child out of her home, under the warmth of her father's insurmountable love, and he'd placed her in a home he knew would crush her spirit.
He had expected her to shed her idea of life to fit into the mould of the mature, young woman that Chavan nivaas could have benefited from, not realizing he had slowly cut her wings instead. And still, she'd fought, day in and day out.
I hate it here, she'd said. He had told her that of their marriage, she could never expect more from him. Never expect a relationship, and yet hadn't he blurred those same lines? The thought, the very idea, that she could leave him filled him with a sensation he could not understand. He saw her flinch beside him and he realized he'd clutched her hand so tightly it must have startled her. Virat pulled away from Sai, staring at his hand that had just held hers.
Lifting himself off the bed, he caught sight of Kamal sir's picture that Sai had carefully placed on her vanity. A deep sense of shame and disgust filled him. Virat had promised the undertaking of Sai's education and her wellbeing. Yet she had just cried to the point that she'd fallen unconscious from exhaustion, and somewhere that was his fault.
"I'm sorryKamal sir," he whispered, his hand resting against the cold frame. Walking back to their bed, Virat turned towards Sai. He laid his head against the pillow, but sleep would only come in fitful, restless moments.
---
The next morning, Virat was unaware of when he'd fallen asleep as day broke through his room. He had been turned towards Sai in their bed, his hand somehow falling in the middle of their bed, as if to make its way across to her. Sai was still asleep, and not a frown from last night was on her serene face.
As if she'd sensed him, Sai moved out of her sleep, shifting away from his gaze.
"Sai?"
Sai felt her heart stop at the sound of Virat sir's small whisper. She opened her eyes at once, turning to look at him. The memory of the night before came back to her in pieces, her sadness, her anger, her tears. She must have fallen asleep sometime after crying because she could not remember anything other than her own crying.
"Jee?" she whispered back, afraid that if she spoke too loudly it would break the soft shell of a truce between them.
"Tum theek hona?" she could hear the concern lacing Virat's voice, and suddenly she felt laid bare beside him.
"Jee." Her one word reverberated with finality, and Virat knew better than to push her.
"Is it okay if I drop you off at college today?"
Sai frowned for a split second, taken aback by the hesitant question.
"No thank you, you don't have to be late to work on my account. I have a bunch of kitchen chores to finish before I leave," she responded, resignation colouring her tone.
Virat flinched, remember the day before when she'd asked for Pakhi's help and had turned it into a lesson. In that moment he'd only seen Pakhi's superficial pain, he'd paid no attention to the storm brewing inside Sai.
"I can wait," he pushed, hoping she would resign to him. Hoping, that Sai would look at him with those big, brown eyes, and agree.
Instead, she got up wordlessly to sit in their bed. Virat followed suit, his skin coming alive as if he was braced to feel more of her.
"Can I say something?" she spoke, her voice softer than before and Virat wanted to say anything. All he could muster was a nod.
"I don't like you telling me who I should or should not be friends with. I understand your concerns, I understand that it may make my life in this house worse. But it was never a bed of flowers, to begin with."
Virat felt his breath hitch in his lungs, his breathing turning shallow at the twist of her words. He knew she was right, but instinct had gotten the better of him the day before.
"I'm just worried," he admitted, and Sai looked at him with piquing interest.
"You have nothing to worry about. Main apni hadh jaanti hoon. Jaise apne kaha tha ke main iss rishteh se, naa aapse, koi bhi umeed rakhoon, waise hi mujhe apni personal life ki hadhein maloom hai. Main kabhi bhi aapki izzat par, naa iss ghar ke naam par, koi bhi aanch aane doongi. But please trust me, and if you think I'm in trouble then tell me," Sai shared, every word taking life out of her she did not know it could.
Virat wanted to reach over then, to hold her hand like he had the night before. She was right. She had never crossed any lines when she knew the boundaries. He had made the boundaries of their relationship clear, several times, and Sai had adhered to them. Every single time he'd been disappointed at her behaviour, he realized it was because he had crossed all the lines he had told her not to. Somehow he'd expected her to reciprocate, to cave as he did, to want to be by his side like he had so clearly chosen to with her.
A rush of cold swept through him and Virat tensed, his muscles going still.
"Waise bhi, aapko kya faraq parta hai Virat sir? Maine aapko kabhi nahi kaha ke aap Pakhi didi se friendship todh dhein. We all deserve friends we can turn to, someone who makes the day easier, whose presence makes us smile. Isn't that what Pakhi didi is for you?"
Virat felt his jaw lock, and in that moment that he turned to look at her, he realized his mistake. His mistake had been blurring the lines with Sai, his mistake had been giving Pakhi the role of his best friend, his mistake had been so many things and now he would have to sit there and bear the consequences of them all.
For the first time, in a long time, Virat was filled with ache. He wanted to tell Sai that she could have all the friends she wanted, but not a single one would be her best friend. Be it Aniket, Amey, or whoever she found off the street to spend her time with, she would always come home to him. And yet even as he thought it, even as the envy filled him with a deep-rooted fury, he knew that what he wanted he could lay no claim to.
"Will being friends with Aniket make you happy?" he asked, every word a shard of glass on his tongue.
Sai nodded wistfully, a slow smile spreading across her face and Virat felt his insides twist with nausea.
"For a moment, he makes me forget," she spoke softly, and Virat's mind spun.
"Forget what?"
At once the radiant smile on Sai's face fell, and she snorted as if she carried an inside joke with herself.
"How mean the world can be."
When he'd come back to this moment in his memory, this would be the moment he knew he was defeated against her. That Sai Joshi, no matter who she was or what she was, could unarm him with only a few words and a wistful smile.
"I want you to be happy Sai," an admission of something that slipped so easily from his tongue, it nearly frightened him.
Sai wanted to hold him then, his face in her small palms. She wanted to tell him that if he was this kind to her all the time, if he could see this transparently through her outside the confines of their small bedroom, she would never need a friend likeAniket. Instead, she reached her hand out to the curve of his wrist, holding him, pinning him like an anchor.
"I want you to be happy too Virat sir."
For a moment Viratlost himself in the ocean of her brown eyes. Sai Joshi was a storm to everyone who knew her, but in this moment she was soft and yielding. He wondered what it would be like to be caught inside her storm, both fast and soft. He wondered if even she knew what it would be like to be loved by her.
He had seen her defeated the night before, but he would not allow that to happen again. When he'd married her, he knew he had traded his soul in for something greater than himself. He had promised Pakhi that she would remain the sole virtue of love in his life, and he was quickly learning just how much of a mistake that had been. Because he wanted, now more than anything, for Sai to look at him. See past his zimmedari, his farz, Virat wanted Sai to see him. And he was afraid of what that meant for him.
Sai wondered if something more had been said the night before. Virat looked at her with a guarded expression and she knew that he was thinking something he would never say aloud. She turned away from him then, knowing their conversation could end here on a good note.
"Does it hurt you, my being friends with Pakhi?"
His words stopped her and she felt heat rush through her. She shook her head she turned to face him.
"No," she replied truthfully. She cocked her head to look at him, wondering what he was thinking. "But it does bother me that you take her side, even when you've heard the way she speaks to me."
Guilt filled him and Virat could not deny that in an effort to appease his family, he had betrayed so much of Sai's confidence.
"Sometimes," she started, "sometimes I wish you'd tell her to speak to me in the manner you expect of her as your mature friend. I can handle myself, but it would be nice for you to tell her to stop. That's all."
Suddenly Virat became aware of Sai's age. Her nineteen years looking at him glaringly in the dull morning light. She wanted him to defend her, so she didn't have to do the defending. She wanted him to at the very least fight for her peace of mind, so that she didn't have to anymore. He had realized Pakhi's growing insolence would be an issue, but the image of Sai from the night before haunted him now. She was exhausted having to defend herself, and Virat had done her no favours.
She left him before he could give her an answer. He realized that Sai didn't need answers, she needed examples. He would never let her falter the way she had the night before. He would never let her get to the point of falling apart. He had married her to protect her, and if that meant protecting her against his own family, so be it.
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A/N: Hello all - I've been semi active in this forum before. But I'm so tired and I wanted to write a oneshot with what I'd hope happens in the future so I don't cuss the **** out of Virat LOL. This story could be so beautiful, so full of heartbreaking angst, but I guess these writers have no idea what to do even though they're ripping storylines word for word. Imagine that LOL. Forgive any mistakes, I legit just wrote this. Cheers to those of us hurting from the precap, but hopefully it will be misleading?? Idek anymore.
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