Munni stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her bridal-adorned body, her face glowing. She looked beautiful, but her outer self did not reflect what she was feeling inside.
Her nervousness. The emptiness in her chest. It felt like she was leaving something behind—but it didn’t make sense, because she didn’t have anything. This house wasn’t hers. This family wasn’t hers to claim. Yes, they had treated her like a daughter when she was a maid, and even now as a collector—but they were never truly hers, even if she wanted them to be.
Tulsi, being Tulsi, had convinced her that she wanted Munni to get married from Shanti Niketan. Now that she and Rahul had decided to tie the knot—more Rahul than her—she didn’t really have a reason to delay. They had been together for a year and engaged for three months. She could never say no to her Malkini.
Was Rahul a bit on edge about Munni living in SN? Yes. Because Ritik was there, and moreover, he was now divorced. But when both Tulsi and Mihir had requested that they wanted to do this for Munni, he couldn’t really push back. After all, they were the only family she had ever known, ever since her parents had given her up to Maharaj Ji.
Munni moved toward her bed and sat down, her bright red lehenga making a fuss with every movement. She looked around the room. The lights were dim, but right outside her partially closed door, in the distance, were the bright lights of the wedding—the music playing, the chatter of guests—softening into low murmurs by the time it reached her.
Munni took a deep breath. She needed to get her head straight. A month ago, moving into SN had felt like a long time. Now, it felt like it had just zoomed by.
“Jury aunty…”
A small, sweet voice pulled her out of her trance.
She looked toward the door. Timsy stood there, dressed in a cute green party dress that sparkled and flared at the bottom. She walked in and sat next to Munni.
“Jury aunty, aaj aap chale jaoge?” she asked innocently.
Munni smiled at her, feeling her sadness blend into her own.
“Haan…” she replied softly.
Timsy wrapped her little arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Please Jury aunty mat jao na… mujhe aap bohot achhe lagte ho… please!” She looked at her with big, innocent eyes.
And that’s when it clicked for Munni.
The emptiness. The lack of excitement she felt as a bride.
It was this feeling of belonging.
It was Timsy.
She had fallen in love with this five-year-old. And it didn’t help that she also held feelings for her father—feelings she had buried deep down… or at least she thought she had.
Six years had passed.
He had rejected her.
He had married. Had a child. Divorced.
And she had become a collector, gotten engaged, moved on… done all the things adults were supposed to do.
Yet, when she had run into Ritik after six years—her heart had skipped a beat.
Now memories flooded her. The time she had spent with Timsy… with Ritik… the three of them.
She remembered watching Ritik struggle to braid Timsy’s hair while trying to make breakfast. She had stepped in to help him. She admired his love for Timsy. He seemed happier, lighter now that Mitali was no longer in the picture. He felt like the old Ritik—the one she had once fallen for.
And just like that, over the past month, they had shared moments. Some with Timsy. Some just between the two of them.
And those moments felt different.
She wasn’t happy with herself for having those feelings. It felt like a betrayal to Rahul.
But she couldn’t control her heart.
She hugged Timsy back, holding her close.
“Please mat jao na!” Timsy said again.
Before Munni could respond, the door opened.
Ritik stood there.
Both Timsy and Munni looked up.
For a second, Ritik was stunned. One—Munni looked beautiful as a bride. Two—seeing his daughter hugging her like that… it was a sight he could get used to.
These past few months had been his worst—and his best. He had gone through his lowest: failing as a businessman, being verbally insulted by Mitali. But then, the return of his Tulsi Maa… and Munni… had brought him back.
He couldn’t deny that over the six years, he had thought about her. Missed her. She was his true friend—the one who knew everything. He had thought about his mistake. He had even considered reaching out through social media, but the fake profile she had created had disappeared, and he didn’t have the courage to search for her.
When he had run into her at the collector’s office, he was astonished—but also relieved. He didn’t know if they were still friends, or if he even deserved her acknowledgment after how he had insulted her.
But Munni, being Munni, had made it easier.
And their friendship was back.
Or maybe this time… it was more.
He felt a pull toward her—something he kept in check. The day he found out she was engaged was the first time his heart sank. At that point, he didn’t acknowledge it. They were in different worlds. He was married, moved on. She was starting her life.
But the month she had spent in this house had intensified those feelings.
He hated himself for it.
He kept himself in control—because she deserved the best. Not someone who had disrespected her. Not a divorcee. Not a single father.
“Chalein, Munni… mera matlab, Manjuri,” he corrected himself. He had been trying to remember that she was no longer Munni—that she had built a new identity—but Munni came naturally. Because that was them.
Munni stood up, Timsy still beside her.
“Arre mera pyara bacha, aap yahan kya kar rahi ho? Chalo, bahar Garima aur Madhavi ke saath practice karo apna dance,” Ritik said, bending down toward his daughter.
“Nahi! Mujhe nahi jaana! Mujhe Jury aunty ke saath rehna hai!” she cried.
Ritik looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t realized Timsy had become so attached.
But then again—it was Munni.
“Haan beta, Jury aunty bhi neeche hi aa rahi hai,” he tried to convince her.
But Timsy shook her head stubbornly.
“Nahi! Jury aunty kahin nahi jayengi! Woh mere saath yahin rahengi!”
She hugged Munni’s leg. Munni placed a gentle hand on her head and looked at Ritik.
He looked back.
Ritik bent down and carefully untangled Timsy’s arms from around Munni.
“Timsy beta, aap toh good girl ho na… Jury aunty ki aaj shaadi hai. Unhe Rahul uncle ke saath jaana hoga. But don’t worry, woh aapse milne zaroor aayengi… hai na, Jury aunty?”
He looked up at Munni, still holding Timsy’s hand.
She didn’t respond.
Her eyes were distant. Lost.
“Toh aap shaadi kar lo unse… phir woh yahin rahengi,” Timsy said quickly.
Both Ritik and Munni looked at her.
It was an innocent remark from a five-year-old.
But it hit something deep.
Ritik cleared his throat, his heart tightening. For a moment, he wanted to agree. Because just like his daughter… he was in love with her.
And how selfish was that?
He couldn’t let this get out of hand.
“Bas, Timsy. Chalo ab.”
He stood up, holding her hand, and began to pull her gently toward the door.
But Timsy was quick.
She grabbed Munni’s hand.
Ritik moved, pulling Timsy slightly—but Munni held on.
He stopped.
He felt the pull from the other side.
Ritik turned slightly… only to see Timsy standing between them, both her arms stretched—one in his hand, the other in Munni’s.
Caught between them.
Munni was holding on to Timsy’s hand, her grip tighter than she realized, tears rolling steadily down her cheeks as she looked at Ritik. He felt it—the pull—not just from Timsy’s small hand stretched between them, but from something far heavier, something neither of them had been willing to name. For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, caught between stepping away and stepping forward. His eyes dropped briefly to where Munni’s fingers were wrapped around Timsy’s hand, refusing to let go, and then lifted back to her face. She wasn’t stopping him, but she wasn’t letting him leave either. That hesitation in her, that quiet hold—it unsettled him more than anything else.
He inhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as he looked away for a second, as if trying to collect himself. He knew this was wrong. He knew exactly what was waiting outside that door—the wedding, Rahul, the life Munni was supposed to walk into. He had spent the entire month reminding himself of that, keeping his distance, controlling every instinct that pushed him toward her. He could still do it. He could step back right now, take Timsy, walk out, and let everything fall back into place the way it was meant to. But when he looked at Munni again, at the tears she wasn’t even trying to hide, at the way her hand still held on despite everything, something inside him gave way.
Without fully deciding to, he stepped closer. The distance between them closed, and Timsy’s small arms bent instead of stretching, bringing them nearer than they had allowed themselves to be all month. Ritik’s hand lifted slowly, hesitating mid-air for a brief second, as if even now he was questioning whether he had the right, before he finally placed it gently on her upper arm. His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, grounding himself more than comforting her.
“Munni…” His voice was quieter than before, unsteady in a way he couldn’t hide. He paused, the words catching in his throat as his eyes searched her face. “Main jaanta hoon yeh sahi waqt nahi hai… aur shayad mujhe yeh kehna bhi nahi chahiye…” He exhaled, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to her. There was still time to stop. Still time to walk away. But the thought of leaving this unsaid, of watching her go without ever knowing, felt heavier than the guilt pressing down on him. “…lekin agar aaj bhi nahi kaha, toh shayad kabhi nahi keh paunga.”
The admission hung between them for a fraction of a second before he let himself fall into it completely. “I love you, Munni… pata nahi kabse, kaise, par pyaar ho gaya mujhe tumse.”
Munni felt her breath catch as more tears slipped down her face. For a moment, she just looked at him, as if trying to understand how the words she had buried for so long were now standing in front of her, spoken aloud. Ritik instinctively reached up, his thumb brushing against her cheek to wipe her tears, but the moment lingered just a second too long, and he pulled his hand back, as if suddenly aware of the line he had crossed.
“Please… ro mat,” he said softly, his voice gentler now, almost apologetic. He forced himself to step back, putting a sliver of distance between them again, trying to gather whatever control he had left. “Maine yeh sab isliye kaha… taaki humein closure mil sake… taaki hum iss soch mein na rahein ki shayad…” He swallowed, pushing himself to continue despite how difficult each word felt. “Aaj tumhari shaadi hai, Munni… Rahul bohot achha hai. Woh tumhara bohot khayal rakhega. Jo maine kaha… uska ab koi matlab nahi hai. Tumhe apni life mein aage badhna hai… Rahul ke saath.”
He took another step back, forcing himself into the role he had decided he needed to play. “Ab chalo?”
But before he could turn, Munni moved. Her hand slipped from Timsy’s, and in the next instant, she caught hold of his sherwani, pulling herself toward him as if she had run out of strength to stand on her own. She buried her face against his chest, her composure breaking completely as the emotions she had been holding in finally poured out.
“Ritik…” she sobbed, her voice trembling between breaths. “Main yeh nahi kar sakti…” She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes red and filled with tears, her mehndi-covered hand clutching his sherwani tightly as if it was the only thing keeping her steady. “Main aapse pyaar karti hoon, Ritik…” The words came out with difficulty, as if saying them aloud made everything more real, more wrong. She shut her eyes briefly, guilt flashing across her face. Somewhere downstairs, another man was waiting for her, and here she was, in someone else’s arms. “Main nahi kar paungi…” she whispered, before leaning into him again.
Ritik stood still for a moment, her words hitting him with a force he wasn’t prepared for. This was everything he had wanted—and everything he had told himself he couldn’t have. His hand hovered for a second before resting gently against her back, offering comfort without fully pulling her in, as if he was still trying to hold on to the last thread of restraint.
“Main tumhare liye sahi nahi hoon, Munni… kabhi tha hi nahi,” he said quietly, though even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.
“Please, Ritik… I love you,” she repeated softly against his chest.
And that was it.
Whatever control he had been holding on to finally broke. His arms came around her fully this time, pulling her closer, holding her with a certainty he hadn’t allowed himself before.
“I love you too.”
Timsy, who had let go somewhere in between, looked up at them and, without fully understanding what had changed, wrapped her small arms around both of them, smiling simply because the two people she loved were together.
They stood there like that for a few moments, holding on to each other, forgetting about everything outside the room—the music, the guests, the wedding waiting to begin.
At the door, Mihir and Tulsi watched in silence.
There was shock. Relief. A quiet conflict between what was right and what was already inevitable.
Tulsi had always known about Munni’s feelings. She had noticed the change in Ritik too, but she had chosen not to interfere—not with a wedding so close.
But now, looking at them, it didn’t feel like a mistake.
It felt like something that had been unfinished for far too long.
They didn’t look wrong.
They looked complete.
Like a family.
And now, whether it was right or wrong—
She and Mihir knew one thing.
They would have to protect them.
Anupamaa
Udne Ki Aasha
8