Kasam Se Banta Rishta ~ Ssharad Malhotra x Shivani Tomar SS

A grieving widower and a lonely scientist, once bitter enemies, share a drunken night that changes everything. Avoidance turns to shock when Tanuja discovers she's pregnant with Rishi's child. Guilt, fear, longing, and unspoken love push them into an emotional storm neither expected-and a destiny neither can escape.

Character Sketches

Rishi Singh Bedi — played by Ssharad Malhotra

A 47-year-old widower and former football star, now a disciplined but emotionally shut-down coach. Rishi masks seventeen years of grief behind routine, silence, and sharp words. His life is a museum of memories he refuses to touch. Stoic, restrained, and deeply lonely, he fears attachment because loss has scarred him beyond repair.
Despite his cold exterior, Rishi is capable of overwhelming tenderness and loyalty. Tanuja awakens emotions he thought he had buried forever—desire, guilt, and a dangerous, reluctant hope.

Dr. Tanuja Sikand — played by Shivani Tomar

A 29-year-old brilliant scientist with no surviving family, Tanuja has built her life on logic and independence. Sharp-tongued, guarded, and emotionally self-taught, she hides her deep-rooted loneliness behind confidence and intellect. Her stubborn pride often clashes with Rishi's wounded anger, creating electric tension between them.
But beneath her strength lies a girl who has never been held, never been chosen, never belonged to anyone. One night of vulnerability with Rishi shatters the walls she's lived behind.

Enemies who crossed boundaries and ended up with consequences they could not ignore.

How did these two end up drunk and together? Neither seem like the type.

Chapter 1 (A Heart that Forgot How to Feel)

Rishi Singh Bedi had lived forty-seven years, but it felt like the first half of his life had ended the day his wife died. He had been young then—too young to understand how loss could hollow out a man from the inside. Now, after years of burying himself in football, coaching, discipline, and silence, he carried his grief like a shadow that never left his side.

His house was large, quiet, untouched by warmth. No children. No laughter. Just memories and regrets.

And next door lived the woman who irritated him more than anyone ever had.

Tanuja Sikand, twenty-nine, a scientist whose brilliance was only matched by her stubbornness. With no family of her own, she had carved out a life of logic, precision, and self-reliance. She believed feelings were inefficient, distractions at best—and dangerous at worst.

Naturally, they clashed like fire and steel.

They never spoke without arguing. They never crossed paths without exchanging sharp, biting comments. And yet, every encounter left something electric in the air—something both pretended not to notice.

The Morning Collision

It began with a football—his football.

Tanuja stepped out of her house early that morning, balancing a stack of research files. As she locked the gate, a football rolled into her driveway. Her heel caught on it, and she stumbled, sending her neatly organised documents flying across the ground.

From down the street, she heard footsteps—and then a voice that instantly made her blood boil.

Rishi stopped a few feet away, slightly breathless from his jog, staring at the scattered papers with a faint, almost amused lift of his eyebrow.
He said, “For someone who works with such complicated theories, your balance is surprisingly terrible.”

Tanuja didn’t even look up as she snapped back, “For someone who’s supposed to be a legendary footballer, you clearly can’t control a simple ball.”

Her jab hit harder than she realised. His expression tightened almost imperceptibly.

He stepped closer, picked up the football, and said in a low, hard voice, “At least I still have something meaningful to wake up for. Can you say the same about your research?”

The comment cut through her composure like a blade.

She stood, dusting off the last remaining sheet, and met his gaze without blinking. “Better to work on lifeless things than to live like something lifeless.”

That landed exactly where she meant it to.

For a moment, something flashed in his eyes—anger, yes, but also a wound she didn’t yet understand.

He took a step forward. “You think you know me?”

“You make it very easy,” she replied coolly.

The space between them crackled with a tension neither wanted to acknowledge. Their breaths intermingled, their stares locked in a silent challenge. Anyone watching would think they were seconds away from kissing—or killing each other.

With them, it was usually both.

Why They Fought

Rishi told himself she annoyed him because she was sharp-tongued, dismissive, too confident for her age.

But the truth was simpler.
She made him feel things he had forced himself to forget.

Tanuja convinced herself she disliked him because he was arrogant, emotionally distant, and impossible to reason with.

But the truth was more dangerous.
He was the only person who ever got under her skin.

Their hostility was a shield, a comfort, a habit—and a warning of something deeper neither dared to explore.

A Fight That Went Too Far

Their daily arguments had become routine—annoying, loud, predictable.
But neither realised how close they were to the edge until the day they finally crossed it.

It was a warm afternoon, deceptively calm, with sunlight spilling across the quiet lane between their houses. Rishi was washing his car. Tanuja was dragging heavy equipment boxes from her porch to her lab annex. Both saw the other. Both pretended they didn’t.

Until she accidentally shifted a box into the border of his driveway.

Rishi glanced at it and said sharply, “You know, for a scientist, you have a remarkable lack of spatial awareness.”

She clenched her jaw. “And for a man your age, you have a remarkable inability to mind your own business.”

He wiped his hands on a towel and walked closer. “Maybe if your equipment wasn’t scattered everywhere, people wouldn’t need to teach you basic organisation.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe if you weren’t still trying to outrun your age with footballs and jogs, you’d realise the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like that, the spark caught a flame.

Rishi stepped even closer. “You act like you’re above everyone else, Tanuja. But you’re just a lonely girl pretending she has a purpose.”

Tanuja’s fingers tightened around the box handle. The words stung—but she refused to show it.
She shot back, “And you’re just a bitter old man trying to outrun the memories of a life you lost. You think anger makes you strong? It only makes you pathetic.”

His jaw hardened.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Neither backed down.

The Words That Should Never Have Been Said

Rishi said quietly, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you don’t know when to stop,” she replied.

He exhaled, long and frustrated. “You push and push and push… until you start talking nonsense.”

She felt something snap inside her.

Something reckless.

Something cruel.

Tanuja looked him directly in the eyes and said, “If your wife were alive today, she would be ashamed of the man you’ve become.”

The silence that followed was instant… and deadly.

Rishi froze.

His breath caught—just once—but she heard it.
Saw it.

Every line of pain on his face sharpened in that moment, as though she had ripped open a wound stitched shut for years.

She hadn’t meant to say it.
Not like that.
Not that far.

But the damage was already done.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hollow.
“You think you can talk about her?”

She swallowed, suddenly unsure.

He stepped closer—not in anger, but in something far more fragile and dangerous.

“You, who has no idea what it means to lose someone? You, who never had a family to begin with?” His voice cracked just a little.
“You want to use her name to hurt me? Fine.”

He could have walked away.
He should have.

Instead, grief twisted into cruelty.

With eyes burning, he said, “At least I had parents who loved me. At least I had a wife who cared. What do you have, Tanuja? Nothing. Your parents would be ashamed too—if they’d lived long enough to see the person you’ve become.”

The world seemed to fall out from under her feet.

Her parents.
The one subject she never touched.
The one pain she kept buried deeper than anything.

Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “You… you don’t get to use them.”

But he was hurting too much to stop.
And she was too shocked to hide how deeply he’d broken something inside her.

Two Hearts, Both Shattered

Rishi saw her expression change—the anger draining, replaced by something raw and wounded.

He had never seen her look like that.
Not even close.

Not angry.
Not annoyed.
Not sarcastic.

Just… hurt.

Deeply, painfully hurt.

And just like that, the fury in him dissolved.
Replaced by guilt so sharp it made his chest ache.

Tanuja blinked rapidly, trying to hold back emotions she had trained herself never to show. Her voice trembled as she said, “You went too far, Rishi.”

“I—” He stepped toward her instinctively. “Tanuja, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” she whispered, stepping back.
“Don’t say anything. Don’t come near me.”

He stopped where he was.

She turned away, but before entering her house, she looked back over her shoulder—eyes glistening, voice breaking just once as she said, “You didn’t just insult me today. You destroyed something.”

And then she shut the door.

Leaving Rishi standing alone in his driveway, the weight of his words crushing him slowly… painfully.

He had lost control.

And he had hurt the only person in years who made him feel anything at all.

The Night Both Hearts Broke

Rishi had hurt people before — with anger, with silence, with distance — but he had never seen someone shatter because of his words.
Not until he saw the look in Tanuja’s eyes.

By evening, guilt sat on his chest like a weight he couldn’t breathe under.

He tried to distract himself. Failed.

He tried to eat. Couldn’t.

By nightfall, the ache was unbearable.

He opened his liquor cabinet — something he rarely touched — and poured drink after drink until the burn in his throat was the only thing he felt.

Memories blurred. Regrets sharpened.

Tanuja’s broken whisper echoed again and again:

“You destroyed something.”

He didn’t know when he sank onto the couch.
Or when the room began to spin.
Just that every breath hurt.

He had lost his wife.
And today, he had lost the last bit of goodness left in him.

Next Door: A Different Kind of Breaking

Behind her locked door, Tanuja sat on the floor with her back pressed against it. She wasn’t someone who cried easily. Logic and training had taught her to suppress everything.

But today… today was different.

Rishi’s words replayed in her mind like a cruel echo.

“At least I had parents who loved me.”
“At least I had a wife who cared.”
“Your parents would be ashamed too.”

It wasn’t just the insult.
It was the loneliness those words awakened — loneliness she kept hidden beneath intelligence, achievements, and pride.

Silent tears slipped down her face, falling onto the pages of the research file still clutched in her lap.

Hours passed.

Her tears dried.

But the anger only grew.

By the time the clock struck midnight, something inside her snapped.

She stood up abruptly, wiping her face with the back of her hand, fire rising in her chest.

If he could break her… then she would show him she wasn’t someone who stayed broken.

Without thinking, without knocking, without caring, Tanuja stormed out of her house and straight into his — her footsteps echoing in the hallway.

A Dangerous Decision

Rishi jumped slightly when she shoved open the door.

His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt half out of place, the room smelling strongly of alcohol.

He whispered her name, almost in relief.
“Tanuja—”

But she didn’t stop.

She marched to his liquor cabinet, grabbed a full bottle, twisted the cap, and lifted it.

His eyes widened.
“Tanuja, don’t— wait—”

She didn’t wait.

She tilted her head back and gulped — not a sip, not a taste — but the whole bottle, letting the liquid burn down her throat like fury turning into fire.

Rishi stumbled forward, grabbing her wrist too late.

“Are you insane?!” he shouted, voice hoarse with shock.

She wiped her mouth and said with a bitter smile, “Maybe. But at least I don’t hide behind grief and cruelty.”

She swayed slightly — but her eyes were clear, sharp, unforgiving.

He held her shoulders, steadying her. “You could have hurt yourself.”

She stared at him, voice trembling but strong.
“Maybe that’s the point.”

And then the bottle slipped from her hand and cracked on the floor.

The Universe Intervenes

Before either of them could say another word, the lights flickered.

Once.
Twice.

Then everything went black.

Rishi swore under his breath. “The whole grid’s out.”

Rain began pounding on the windows. Wind roared. Thunder cracked, shaking the house.

Tanuja blinked in the dark, suddenly dizzy — the alcohol hitting her like a wave.

“Sit down—careful!” Rishi said, guiding her to the couch as she nearly stumbled.

“I don’t need your help,” she muttered weakly.

“Yes,” he whispered, voice breaking as he knelt beside her, “you do.”

The storm raged outside, but the real storm was inside the room — swirling between them, suffocating and raw.

They were alone.
Trapped.
No lights.
No distractions.
Just the truth they had avoided for months.

Two Breakdowns in the Dark

Tanuja pressed her palms to her eyes. “Why did you say those things, Rishi? You could’ve said anything—anything—but not my parents.”

He swallowed hard, the guilt nearly choking him.
“I was angry. I was hurting. But that’s not an excuse. I crossed a line I should never have gone near.”

She let out a broken laugh. “You didn’t just cross it. You destroyed it.”

Her voice cracked, and something inside him shattered.

He reached for her hand — slowly, as though afraid she’d pull away.

But she didn’t.

For the first time, she didn’t.

“Tanuja,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t say that often, but I am. I hurt you, and I can’t take it back.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy from alcohol and unshed tears.
“You broke something in me today.”

His voice softened. “And you broke something in me too.”

The thunder rumbled again, shaking the windows.

The emergency light flickered on — dim, golden — illuminating their faces just enough for each to see the other’s pain.

Two stubborn, wounded souls finally stripped of their shields.

She whispered, “I didn’t mean what I said about your wife.”

“And I didn’t mean what I said about your parents,” he replied quietly.

The storm howled louder, as though sealing their confessions into the night.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, very softly — almost involuntarily — Tanuja leaned toward him, her forehead brushing his shoulder as exhaustion and alcohol wrapped around her.

Rishi froze.

Then, slowly… hesitantly… he let his hand rest over hers.

In the dark, for the first time, neither of them felt alone.

-------

To be continued.

Chapter 2 (Two Lonely Hearts & The Kiss That Went Too Far)

The storm outside only grew fiercer, lightning slicing across the dim living room. Tanuja rested against Rishi’s shoulder, her breath uneven, her pulse racing from alcohol and emotion. Rishi kept a hand hovering near her back, unsure whether to comfort her or pull away.

Then she whispered, so quietly he almost missed it, “Do you know what it’s like to come home to no one?”

He stiffened.

Her words pierced deeper than she realised.

She continued, her voice trembling, “Every achievement… every failure… every birthday… every festival… I lived them alone. I celebrated alone. I cried alone. I taught myself never to need anyone because… because there was no one left to need.”

Something twisted painfully inside Rishi’s chest.

“Tanuja…” he whispered, but she didn’t stop.

“You think I’m arrogant?” she breathed. “I’m not. I’m just tired of pretending I’m strong. I’m tired of being alone.”

The admission hung heavily in the air between them.

After a moment, she asked softly, “What about you, Rishi? Does it ever stop hurting?”

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in years, he allowed the truth to escape.

“No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t. Losing her… it was like losing the future I thought I had. I keep living, I keep working, but inside… there’s nothing.”

He swallowed hard.

“I haven’t celebrated a single birthday since she died. Haven’t put up lights for Diwali. Haven’t even sat at the dinner table properly. I come home, I sit alone, I sleep alone. Every night, Tanuja. Every damn night.”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t hide it.

“I forgot what it feels like to talk to someone who actually listens.”

A tear slipped down Tanuja’s cheek. She didn’t wipe it.

“And today,” Rishi whispered, “when you walked out after what I said… I felt the same panic I did when I lost her. As if I was losing someone again.”

Her heart stopped.

He didn’t seem to realise what he’d admitted.
Or maybe he did.
Maybe he finally couldn’t hide it.

Tanuja reached up, trembling, and touched his cheek—softly, cautiously, as if afraid he would recoil.

But he didn’t.

He leaned into her touch without thinking.

Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts racing in a rhythm they both recognised yet hadn’t felt in years.

Something fragile.
Something forbidden.
Something inevitable.

“I shouldn’t… feel this,” Rishi whispered, voice shaking.

“But you do,” she murmured. “So don’t think. Just feel.”

In a moment of weakness—
a deeply human, deeply lonely moment—
Rishi leaned in.

Slowly.
Cautiously.
As if asking without words.

His lips brushed hers—
soft, trembling, uncertain.

A stolen kiss.
A forbidden kiss.
A kiss that shattered seventeen years of solitude.

But the instant their lips met, panic seized him.
He pulled back abruptly.

“No,” he whispered, stumbling to stand. “This is wrong… I shouldn’t have—”

He turned to leave.

But Tanuja rose to her knees on the couch, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him back toward her.

Before he could protest—

She kissed him.

Not gently.
Not hesitantly.

But fiercely — with all the anger, longing, loneliness, and hunger she had buried for years.

His breath caught.
His heart slammed into his ribs.
For a second, he didn’t respond.

Then something inside him snapped.

He cupped her face with shaking hands and kissed her back—deeply, urgently, as if he had been starving for years and had only now realised it.

Their lips moved desperately, claiming, apologising, healing.
The storm outside vanished.
The world vanished.
Only they remained.

When they finally tore apart, breathless, trembling, Rishi pressed his forehead to hers.

“Tanuja… what are we doing?” he whispered.

“Something we’ve both needed for a long, long time,” she breathed.

And in that moment—
for the first time in years—
neither wanted to run.

The storm raged against the windows, but inside the room, the world had grown impossibly still.

Tanuja’s voice broke.
“Rishi… I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“Like what?” he murmured, brushing her cheek.

“Lonely,” she whispered. “Like I’m standing on the edge of something and if I fall… no one will notice.”

Her confession crushed him.

“I notice,” he whispered, forehead leaning against hers. “I do. More than I should.”

Something inside her melted.

She lifted her trembling fingers to his jaw, guiding his lips back to hers.

Their kiss deepened again—
fierce, hungry, wounded.

Rishi’s hands slid to her waist, hesitant… until she pulled him closer with a broken sound that shattered his restraint.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her mouth, “We’re not thinking straight. We’re hurting.”

“So are you,” she whispered. “And maybe… maybe we don’t have to hurt alone tonight.”

The words undid him completely.

He kissed her again—
slower, deeper, memorising her.

Their bodies moved instinctively, clinging, seeking warmth after years of cold.

“Tanuja,” he whispered, voice shaking with fear and desire, “are you sure?”

She nodded, forehead against his.
“I’m tired of pushing everyone away. I’m tired of pretending I don’t need anyone. And right now… I need you.”

He inhaled sharply—
a broken, trembling breath.
Then he lifted her gently into his arms.

She buried her face in his neck, breath hot and uneven.

He carried her toward the bedroom—
slowly,
giving her every chance to stop him.

She didn’t.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Inside the room, their silhouettes met again—
uncertain, emotional, clinging to each other as if the world might disappear.

He kissed her one last time—
slow, lingering, trembling with everything he couldn’t say.

Then the lights flickered out completely.

Fade to black.

What followed was a blur of whispered names, weak moments, and the kind of closeness neither had allowed themselves in years.

By the time exhaustion claimed them both, the storm had quieted…

But a far greater one had begun between them.

The Morning After the Storm

The house had gone silent sometime in the night, though neither of them noticed when the storm outside faded. Inside, their own storms had swallowed everything.

The last thing either of them remembered clearly was the way they clung to each other — dizzy, heartbroken, desperate for warmth after years of going cold.

What followed was a blur of trembling hands, whispered names, and closeness they had denied for too long.

The details were fogged by alcohol.
But the closeness… the heat… the surrender…
That was unmistakable.

Tanuja stirred first.

A dull headache throbbed behind her eyes. Her mouth felt dry. Her heart felt heavy. She exhaled sharply and turned—

And froze.

Rishi lay beside her.

Sheets tangled around them.
Their clothes scattered on the floor.
His arm resting loosely near her waist, as if it had fallen there during the night.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“No…” she whispered, panic rising. “No, no, no…”

She sat up abruptly, clutching the blanket to her chest.
The movement jolted Rishi awake.

He blinked against the light, disoriented, groggy… and then he saw her.

His entire body went still.

For a full ten seconds, neither spoke.

Then the horror dawned on him.

“Tanuja… what… what did we—”

She shook her head, unable to form words.
Images flickered across her memory — his lips, her hands, his warmth against her skin, the sensation of losing themselves completely.

Her throat tightened.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispered brokenly.

Rishi ran a hand over his face, guilt flooding him so fast it made him sway.

“I shouldn’t have…” He swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

She bit down on her trembling lip. “We were drunk, Rishi. Devastated. We weren’t thinking.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he said quietly, voice thick with shame.

Silence stretched between them — an unbearable silence, heavy and suffocating.

He forced himself to look at her.
“Tanuja… did I hurt you? Did I cross a line?”

She shook her head immediately.
“No. You didn’t hurt me. I… I know I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t unaware.”
Her eyes dropped to the sheets.
“But I wasn’t myself either.”

A shaky breath left him.
“Neither was I.”

The weight of it crushed both of them.

He looked away, his voice barely a whisper.
“I haven’t been with anyone since she died.”

“And I’ve never…” She stopped, unable to continue.
Her cheeks burned with shame, grief, and confusion.

Rishi closed his eyes tightly, pain twisting through him.

“Tanuja, this… this shouldn’t define us. We both were lost last night. We were hurting.”

She let out a bitter, fragile laugh.
“We were lonely, Rishi. That’s what we were.”

His jaw clenched.

The truth was too sharp.

She stood, pulling the blanket around herself, avoiding his eyes.

“I need to go.”

He nodded slowly.
“I won’t stop you.”

She reached the door… but paused.
Her voice came out softer than she intended.

“Just answer me one thing.”

He looked up, bracing.

“Do you regret it?” she asked, not turning toward him.

A long, excruciating silence.

Finally, Rishi whispered, “I regret the circumstances… not the closeness.”

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Because she felt the same.

But neither dared to admit it.

Without another word, Tanuja walked out, leaving Rishi alone in the silent room — staring at the space she had just occupied, the sheets still warm where she had been.

He buried his face in his hands.

They had crossed a line.
A line they could never uncross.
And now both of them were left to face the consequences — separately, painfully, helplessly.

Avoidance, Tension, and the Crack in Their Walls

Morning came with a heaviness neither of them was prepared for.

Tanuja had slipped out of Rishi’s house before the sun fully rose, wrapped in a blanket of shame and confusion. She didn’t stop to think, didn’t look back, didn’t breathe properly until she was inside her own home with the door locked.

Avoidance became her shield.

She buried herself in work, schedules, lab reports — anything that kept her busy enough not to think. Whenever she felt her mind drifting to the night before, she forced it away.

It was easier to pretend it never happened.
Easier to pretend she wasn’t shaken.
Easier to tell herself it was just the alcohol.

But her trembling hands and the hollow ache in her chest said otherwise.

Every time she passed the window that faced his house, she looked away instantly.
Every time she saw his shadow against the curtains, she felt heat crawl up her neck.

She avoided stepping outside at the same time as him.
She avoided opening her door unless she was sure he wasn’t near.
She avoided even thinking his name.

Pretending nothing happened became her survival strategy.

But the world didn’t bend easily to pretense.

Rishi’s Turmoil

Inside his home, Rishi paced like a man haunted.

He couldn’t sit.
He couldn’t think.
He couldn’t focus on anything without her face flashing through his mind — the way she had looked in the dim light, the way she had whispered his name, the warmth of her body against his.

Every memory struck him with equal parts guilt and longing.

The guilt whispered:
You crossed a line. You should have protected her. You should’ve stopped.

The longing whispered:
She was the first person to touch your loneliness in years.

Whenever he caught himself staring at her house, gazing too long at her window, he tore his eyes away, disgusted with himself.

He had buried desire for seventeen years. Now it rose in him in confusing, destabilizing waves.

And worst of all —
he didn’t know if she was hurting more than he was.

That thought alone made his chest ache.

The First Accidental Meeting

It happened in the most ordinary way.

At exactly 4:12 PM, Tanuja stepped out of her house with a stack of files, hoping to get to her car quickly before anyone saw her.

At 4:12 PM, Rishi walked down his driveway with empty water jugs, heading to his car to refill them.

They turned the corner at the same time.

And stopped.

Completely.

The world narrowed to the space between them.

She tightened her grip on the files.
He froze mid-step.

“Tanuja…” he breathed, almost inaudibly.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her pulse hammered so hard she thought he might hear it.

He looked away first — guilt slicing through him.
“I didn’t expect to see you.”

Her voice, when it finally emerged, was stiff and brittle.
“We live next door. It was bound to happen.”

He winced at the distance in her tone.

“We should talk,” he said softly.

Her eyes darted away. “No. We shouldn’t.”

“Tanuja—”

She stepped past him quickly, brushing shoulders for a split second.
That single touch sent a shockwave through both of them.

She didn’t look back.
He couldn’t stop staring after her.

The air between them trembled — thick with everything unsaid.

Someone Notices

“Odd, isn’t it?”

Both turned sharply.

Standing a few feet away was Mrs. Mehra, their observant elderly neighbor, a widow who spent most of her time tending to her roses and watching the world around her with unnerving precision.

She looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“You two aren’t fighting today,” she remarked casually, watering can in hand.
“That’s new.”

Tanuja stiffened.
Rishi cleared his throat.

Mrs. Mehra continued cheerfully, “In fact, you both look… different. Quiet. Nervous, almost.”

Rishi’s jaw tightened.
Tanuja’s cheeks flushed.

Mrs. Mehra gave a knowing smile — the kind only older women possess.

“Did something happen between you two?”

Tanuja almost choked.
Rishi’s eyes flew wide.

“No!” Tanuja blurted.
“Absolutely not!” Rishi added a second later.

Mrs. Mehra raised an eyebrow.
“Mm-hmm. Right. Because you two have always been this flustered around each other.”

Before they could respond, she turned back to her roses, humming contentedly — leaving Rishi and Tanuja standing there, shaken.

They both looked away from each other at the same time — and retreated into their separate houses as if burned.

The Wall Between Them… Deepens

That night, both lay awake.

Tanuja on her side, staring at the wall separating their homes.
Rishi on his back, staring at the ceiling, her name echoing in his mind.

Neither slept.
Neither healed.
Neither forgot.

The night they had tried so hard to erase…
had only made them impossible to avoid.

The News That Shakes Her World

The next morning arrived with a hollow grey sky hanging over both houses — as though even the weather sensed what was coming.

Rishi had reached his limit.

The avoidance.
The guilt.
The gnawing ache every time he saw her window shut.
The memory of her warmth under his hands.
The shame of not knowing how she felt.
The fear of what he had done.

He couldn’t take one more day of it.

So he marched straight to her door and knocked — once, twice, then firmly.

“Tanuja,” he called, voice low but steady, “we need to talk.”

Inside, Tanuja froze.

Her heartbeat spiked painfully.
She moved slowly to the door, unsure why — to confront him? To run? To scream?

She opened the door halfway.

Rishi stood there, looking exhausted, tense, eyes heavy with something between regret and longing.

“Tanuja, please,” he said softly. “You can’t keep pretending nothing happened. We need to—”

She slammed the door in his face.

Hard.

He flinched as the wood clicked shut.
But he didn’t leave.
He stood there for another few seconds, breathing shakily, then whispered through the door:

“I’m not your enemy. Talk to me. Please.”

But she didn’t move.

She didn’t even breathe.

Because suddenly — violently — her stomach lurched.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she ran — not to the door, not to him, but straight to the bathroom.

The Nausea

She fell to her knees, gripping the edge of the sink as her entire body heaved.
Everything she had eaten that day — and even things she hadn’t — forced its way up.

She puked until her ribs ached.

Until her eyes watered.

Until her throat burned.

And then she sank back against the cold tiles, panting hard.

“Why… why all of a sudden?” she whispered through ragged breaths.

It wasn’t food poisoning.
She knew her body.
She rarely ever vomited.

Unless—

Her eyes drifted to the small calendar pinned behind the door.

She stared.

And stared.

Her pulse began to race violently.

“No… no, no, no—”

She crawled forward and snatched the calendar off the hook, hands shaking uncontrollably.

Her last marked date…

Was eight weeks ago.

Her vision blurred.

A cold dread poured into her veins like ice.

“I didn’t miss it… did I…? No, I’ve been stressed… work… I must have forgotten…”

But her hands already knew.
Her body already knew.
Her heart already knew.

She grabbed her phone with trembling fingers and dialed the nearest pharmacy.

Her voice was barely a whisper when they picked up.

“I… I need a pregnancy test kit. Deliver it. Please. Urgently.”

She hung up before the pharmacist could ask anything else.

She slumped onto the couch, staring at nothing, waiting — heart crashing painfully against her ribs.

Her mind refused to be still.

The night.
The storm.
The closeness.
The lack of control.
The loss of awareness.

And Rishi.

Oh God.

The Test

Twenty minutes later, the delivery boy rang the bell.

Tanuja opened the door only a sliver — but her trembling hand was enough for him to understand it wasn’t the time for pleasantries.

She shut the door the moment the box touched her hand.

Her limbs felt wooden as she walked to the bathroom again.

She opened the package.

Her pulse thudded loud in her ears.

She followed the instructions with hands she could barely steady.

Then she placed the test on the sink.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Her heart was in her throat.

When she finally lifted the test to look—

Her breath stopped.

Her entire world tilted.

Her fingers went numb.

Two lines.

Two unmistakable lines.

She choked on her own breath.

“No… oh God… no… no…”

But the test stared back, unchanging.

Pregnant.

She collapsed onto the floor, both hands over her mouth as a sob tore through her.

She wasn’t imagining it.
She wasn’t misreading it.
It wasn’t wrong.

She was pregnant.

And there was only one man who could be the father.

Rishi Singh Bedi.

She curled into herself, shaking violently.

“What am I going to do…” she whispered to the empty room.
“What am I going to do…”

Her life — her carefully built walls, routines, logic, loneliness — everything shattered in that one moment.

And next door, unaware, Rishi still stood at his own kitchen window, staring at her house, guilt twisting inside him…

Not knowing that everything was about to change.

Forever.

------

To be continued.

They are finding reasons to fight. It has become a habit for them.

Both hurt each other with their words. Both are lonely and hide their pain.

Being drunk just loosened their resolve. They did what their hearts were wanting. They wanted to feel close to someone.

Mrs Mehra can see the equation between them has shifted. A lot.