Posting this on the forum per @Peanutbolt's suggestion. đ¤
I'm so glad we're not getting the cliche trope of hero becoming softer just because he got married. Clearly, Shiva's reactions to a hurting Raavi are pretty reflexive - he's not doing it because he's now married to her, that was apparent during the wedding episodes when everything was going haywire. Even in his haze he was constantly watching out for her, during the pheras she faints and he catches her even though his attention was elsewhere a second ago - his body and mind are attuned to her presence so well. I do think something in him shifted permanently after seeing her almost take her own life.
When she attempted suicide and then wakes up and hits him, the look on his face was that of open hurt and empathy. His eyes had teared up, he looked almost guilty and extremely pained. I saw a vm on that scene and the lyrics fit perfectly: chot lagi hai use phir kyu mehsoos mujhe ho raha, dil tu bata de kya hai irada tera. Of all the people there, Shiva looked like he felt her misery.
Even though we've seen hundreds of nokjhok couples and will continue to see hundreds more enacting the same formulaic scenes and character arcs, what makes these two a nuanced experience is their very deep, layered relationship.
They didn't start out as enemies. But are they friends? No. Do either of them hate the other and is looking to take revenge? No, thankfully, that is the worst trope ITV uses to build romantic relationships on. Does she like him? No. Does he like her? Maybe, yes. Interestingly enough, their interactions would suggest otherwise to an outsider - she's always flitting around him trying to get his approval, recognition and simply floating in his periphery as a blinding blob of sunlight. She isn't interested in him but she sure values him, considers him her own. He lashes out at her over the silliest reasons, his reactions are always disproportionate to the trigger when it comes to her. He dislikes her, gets annoyed by her presense, but can't help but be habituated to it too. He notices every single thing about her. She's always harping about the brother she's in love with, but it's the brother who treats her like a sack of potatoes that she's found spending time with, being her real self with. He proclaims to hate her and keep her away but he's pulled to her by some unknown force, a rare intensity in his eyes, his harshest personality laid bare. Often, you find Shiva saying dialogues that act more to convince himself than her - it takes effort to hold on to his fake conviction.
So, what are they? Definitely not something you can describe in a handful of terms or catalogue under a category. What's the right word, friends, enemies, relatives, acquaintances...? None of it suffices or feels right.
And the most beautiful, poetic part of all this is the fact that their tale was spun over the years, starting from the moment a 10 day old babe came into the Pandyas' existence. Their dynamics evolved as organically as possible, via shared childhood and that makes everything between them poignant.
There's an ocean of emotions and memories and familiarity between them, their lives unintentionally orbiting around each other all this while. In that little world they carved out for themselves amidst silly fights and taunts and a smile that never wilted, they've an inexplicable connection, vastly superior to a superficial romance.
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