Unspoken ~ KaYu FF [Completed] - Page 2

Such an outsanding update it is

Please update sooner author

Chapter 7

Morning sunlight spilled into the room, soft and golden. Kairi stirred, the weight of a bedsheet draped over her, her limbs sore and bare beneath. Her breath hitched the moment her eyes opened, reality descending like a crashing wave.

Yug was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, his back to her. His fingers ran through his tousled hair — disoriented, silent, but not still. The tension in his frame was unmistakable.

Kairi clutched the sheet tighter around her as she sat up, her voice low, cracked.
“Yug...”

He didn’t turn. Didn’t answer.

The silence wasn’t just awkward — it was devastating.

Her gaze lingered on the damp kurta thrown across a nearby chair, the only remnant of the storm outside and the one within her. She remembered the way his lips had moved against hers with desperation, how the rain had soaked through her clothes before he pulled her into his room — not the storeroom — seeking shelter, seeking her.

She had wanted it too. All of it. Every kiss, every breathless whisper, every whispered “stay” against her skin.

But now he was miles away.

“Say something,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Yug stood up abruptly. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

There was no judgment in his tone. No cruelty. Just... anguish. His next words felt like they were dragged from the pit of his guilt.
“Shaurya loves you.”

Kairi blinked. Her throat burned.
“Do you really think what happened last night was about Shaurya?”

His jaw clenched, finally turning toward her — eyes bloodshot from both alcohol and sleepless guilt. But he didn’t reply.

Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“You think you were the only one who gave in? That I didn’t want it too?” she snapped, voice trembling.
“You think I didn’t feel every second of it in my bones?”

A pause.

“Then why do you look at me like I’m your sin now?”

Yug swallowed. Hard. The weight of her words hung between them.

“Because…” he said hoarsely, “because I’m scared if I look at you any longer, I’ll forget he’s my brother.”

And just like that, Kairi knew.

She had lost him — again.

Not because he didn’t feel something, but because he felt everything. And because everything they shared... was too forbidden to name.

Kairi’s chest felt hollow as Yug’s words echoed in the silence:
“I’m scared if I look at you any longer, I’ll forget he’s my brother.”

That was it.

No plea.
No apology.
No don’t go.

Just the cold truth — that what they’d shared had no place in daylight.

She rose slowly, not caring that her legs trembled beneath her or that the sheet slipped slightly from her shoulder before she caught it. She didn’t meet his eyes as she gathered her damp kurta from the chair. The fabric was still cool, still carried the scent of petrichor… and him.

Kairi dressed in silence, each motion mechanical. Her fingers shook as she buttoned the front. Her skin still bore the imprints of his touch — bruises in the shape of longing, kisses she’d memorized in the dark.

But now… they were just regrets carved into skin.

Yug stood by the window, facing away from her, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the sill. The morning sun made his shoulders look softer than he felt. She wanted to scream at him. Or maybe fall into his arms again and forget the world.

Instead, she turned the doorknob.

“Kairi...”

His voice broke through at the last moment. Her breath caught, but she didn’t turn.

“Last night…”
A pause.
“It can’t happen again.”

Her heart clenched so tightly she thought it might actually crack.

Kairi let out a hollow laugh, blinking back tears that clung to her lashes.
“You’re late, Yug. It already happened.”

And then she stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her — not with a slam, but with the kind of silence that hurt more than noise ever could.

The hallway was empty, but her mind was a storm. Every step away from him was like pulling thorns out of her own skin. She wanted to run — back to her room, back to before, back to a version of herself who didn’t fall for the man she was never supposed to want.

But she couldn’t. Because that version of her no longer existed.

Late Morning — Kairi’s Room

The door clicked shut behind her, and for a moment, Kairi just stood there — still, silent, staring at the four walls that had witnessed nothing of what happened but now bore the weight of all her secrets.

She took a shaky breath and walked in, arms folded tightly around her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.

But it didn’t work.

Her knees buckled the moment she reached her bed, and she sank onto it, burying her face in her palms as the sobs came fast and fierce — gasping, broken, ugly sobs that clawed their way out from somewhere deep inside. The kind of crying that didn’t ask permission. That didn’t care if it shattered her.

A soft knock startled her. She didn’t answer — couldn’t.

The door creaked open anyway.

“Kairi?”

Shalu’s voice was tentative, soft like sunlight slipping through clouds. And then more firmly, eyes widening as she took in the sight of her best friend crumpled on the bed.

She rushed to her side.
“Kairi, what happened?”

Kairi tried to shake her head, hide her face, but it was too late. Shalu was already holding her, arms wrapped around her like a shield.

“I did something stupid,” Kairi whispered through choked breaths.
“I let myself believe in something that wasn’t mine.”

Shalu didn’t ask questions. She just smoothed back Kairi’s hair and whispered, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if it hurts later.”

Kairi let out a broken laugh, then leaned into Shalu’s shoulder, her voice barely audible.
“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, Shalu. It was supposed to stay a moment… but it felt like the only real thing I’ve ever had.”

Shalu pulled her closer, her voice tender but firm.
“Was it him?”

Kairi didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

The silence said it all.

Shalu exhaled, her tone shifting.
“Shaurya?”

Kairi finally shook her head.
And then whispered the name she hadn’t dared to say out loud yet.
“Yug.”

Shalu blinked, stunned — but she didn’t recoil, didn’t gasp. She only tightened her grip on Kairi’s hand.
“Oh Kairi…”

“He regrets it,” Kairi said hollowly. “He said it can’t happen again. Like I was a mistake. Like we were just… something to forget.”

“You are not a mistake,” Shalu whispered fiercely. “He may be a coward. But what you felt — what you gave — that wasn’t a sin, Kairi. That was your heart.”

Kairi bit her lip to stop another sob, but her voice trembled.
“But I gave it to the wrong man.”

Shalu wiped her tears, voice breaking with emotion too.
“Then we’ll get it back. Piece by piece. And I’ll stay with you until you do.”

And so they sat — Kairi in her friend’s arms, not healed, not whole… but no longer alone.

Later That Afternoon — Sinha House Courtyard

Yug stepped into the courtyard, scanning the area instinctively.

Looking for her.

Not that he admitted it — not even to himself. But his eyes always searched. Always paused when they didn’t find what they weren’t supposed to want.

Kairi wasn’t there.

Again.

It had been like this since morning. She hadn’t returned to his room to pick up the shawl she’d forgotten, hadn’t shown up at breakfast, hadn’t even been seen near the storeroom or verandah where she usually helped Ma with the household lists.

Not a word. Not a glance.

It wasn’t coincidence.

Yug exhaled deeply, fingers curling at his sides.

“Yug, we need to go meet the sarpanch at five,” Shaurya called from across the courtyard.

Yug nodded, distracted. But as Shaurya turned away, his voice dropped almost to a murmur.
“Have you seen Kairi?”

Shaurya raised a brow.
“Why? Something happened?”

Yug shook his head quickly.
“No. Just… haven’t seen her since last night.”

Shaurya shrugged.
“She was with Shalu all morning, I think. Looked… off. Like she hadn’t slept.”

That pierced him — more than it should have.

Kitchen Corridor — A Few Minutes Later

Yug turned the corner and finally saw her.

Kairi.

In a soft green salwar, hair tied back simply, carrying a steel tray of vegetables from the backyard. She didn’t see him at first. And for a second, he just stood there.

Watching.
Relieved.

And then she looked up.

And her entire face changed.

Not dramatically — no gasp, no running away — but her eyes froze for just a moment, then moved on like he wasn’t even there. As if he were furniture. As if last night hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t fallen asleep in his arms with his shirt still clinging to her damp skin.

She walked past him — graceful, careful — not brushing against him even by accident. She didn't meet his eyes. Didn’t falter. Didn’t stop.

He turned, confused, as though the ache in his chest was her fault.
“Kairi,” he called, trying to keep it casual.

She paused — just a breath — and turned her head over her shoulder.
“Yes, sir?”

Sir.

Like a stab laced in silk.

Yug straightened.
“I… you left your shawl in the room.”

She nodded once.
“I don’t need it.”

And turned away.

He watched her retreating figure, something hot and unfamiliar building in his throat.

She was avoiding him. Deliberately. Elegantly.

And somehow, it hurt more than any confrontation ever could.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 8

Evening — Back Verandah of the Sinha House

The sky had dipped into twilight, painted in streaks of violet and orange. The house had grown busy with evening chores, but the back verandah remained quieter — a place Kairi often slipped into for air. She stood there now, wringing out a washed dupatta, the fabric dripping in rhythmic droplets onto the stone floor.

Yug spotted her from the corridor. His jaw tightened. All day she had been slipping through his fingers — polite nods, indifferent words, and that dagger of a “sir.” He couldn’t take it anymore.

He walked toward her with long strides.
“Kairi,” he said firmly.

She stilled but didn’t turn. Only after a heartbeat did she glance sideways at him, her expression unreadable.
“Yes?”

That one word — calm, almost detached — made something snap inside him. He grabbed the dupatta from her hands and tossed it onto the railing, forcing her to face him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, frustration sharp in his voice. “Avoiding me like I’m a stranger? Pretending like last night didn’t happen?”

Kairi’s lips curved into the faintest smile — not amused, not bitter. Just tired.
“You’re the one who said it shouldn’t happen again,” she replied softly. “I’m only honoring your words.”

“That’s not—” Yug faltered, running a hand through his hair, his chest rising with uneven breaths. “I didn’t mean for you to act like I don’t exist.”

Kairi finally looked at him — fully, directly — and there was no longing in her gaze now, only a quiet strength that unsettled him more than her tears ever could.
“Yug,” she said, voice steady, “I am not avoiding you because I don’t feel. I’m avoiding you because I feel too much. And because if I let myself stand too close, I’ll start mistaking your weakness for love.”

He froze.

Her words were gentle, but they cut like glass.

“I gave you a piece of myself last night,” she continued, her tone trembling but controlled. “Not because I was drunk, or because the rain made it easier to forget. I chose it. I wanted it. And for once in my life, I didn’t care about right or wrong.”

Yug’s throat worked, but no words came.

“But this morning, you made it clear — I was nothing but a mistake you can’t afford to repeat.” Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t let the tears fall. “So tell me, Yug… what dignity would I have left if I still stood here begging for scraps of the man who regrets me?”

The silence between them grew heavy. The distant clang of utensils in the kitchen, the rustle of leaves in the evening wind — everything seemed louder around them.

Kairi stepped back slightly, creating the smallest distance, but enough.
“You don’t get to decide both things,” she whispered. “You can’t take me in the dark and erase me in the light. I won’t let you. I’d rather burn with self-respect than live on borrowed pieces of you.”

She bent down to pick up the damp dupatta from the railing. As she turned to leave, Yug’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a desperate strength.

“Kairi—” his voice cracked.

She stopped, breath hitching, but didn’t turn. Slowly, she looked at his hand gripping her wrist, then up at his face. His eyes were wild, pleading, torn apart.

For a second, something inside her wavered. But then her resolve sharpened.

She tugged her wrist free — not harshly, but with deliberate force.
“No, Yug,” she said firmly, her voice low but shaking with conviction. “You don’t get to hold me when it suits you and drop me when it doesn’t. Not anymore.”

The finality in her tone made him flinch.

And then she walked away, her dupatta trailing softly behind her, leaving him standing in the verandah — hand still outstretched, heart pounding, the ghost of her touch slipping from his fingers like water he couldn’t hold on to.

Night — Verandah, Moments Later

The echo of her footsteps faded, but the silence she left behind was deafening.
Yug stood frozen, his arm still outstretched as if her wrist lingered in his grip. When the emptiness finally sank in, his hand dropped uselessly to his side.

The storm inside him broke loose.

He let out a sharp, guttural sound — half a curse, half a plea — and slammed his fist against the wooden railing. The crack reverberated into the quiet courtyard, but it did nothing to dull the ache gnawing at his chest.

His knuckles throbbed, blood pricking through the skin, but he didn’t care. The physical sting was a relief compared to the suffocating burn of her words.
“You don’t get to hold me when it suits you and drop me when it doesn’t.”

It looped in his head, her voice calm yet final. It wasn’t anger that killed him — it was her composure. The way she had chosen dignity over him.

He stumbled back into the verandah chair, chest heaving, palms dragging down his face. A bottle of whiskey from the earlier night still sat near the corner table. His eyes locked on it, conflicted — but then he reached, unscrewing the cap with shaking hands.

The first gulp burned his throat raw, the second numbed it, and the third nearly sent him choking. Still, he drank — not to forget her, but because he knew he couldn’t.

Images from the night flooded back with brutal clarity: her rain-damp kurta clinging to her skin, the way her lips trembled beneath his, how she’d melted into his arms like she belonged there. His head fell back against the chair, and a raw sound tore from his chest.

Guilt clawed at him harder than the liquor ever could. Not guilt for what they had done — but guilt for what he couldn’t give her.

“Shaurya…” he muttered hoarsely, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. “If you knew…”

The thought twisted like a knife. His brother — so open, so earnest — would never forgive him. And Kairi… she had already walked away, not because she didn’t feel, but because she felt too much.

He slammed the bottle back onto the table, liquid sloshing over the rim. His jaw clenched, tears stinging his eyes though he refused to let them fall.

For the first time in years, Yug felt utterly powerless. The man who always controlled every room, every deal, every mask — now crumbling under the weight of the only truth that mattered:

He had her heart for one night.
And he’d lost it by morning.

Alone in the verandah, Yug pressed his bruised knuckles to his lips, whispering the name he wouldn’t dare say aloud in daylight.
“Kairi…”

But the night didn’t answer back.

Sinha House Courtyard – Next Day Late Evening

Shaurya’s engagement preparations filled the courtyard — fairy lights strung up, relatives bustling, laughter echoing. Kairi was threading marigolds when the buzz shifted. A sleek black car rolled into the mohalla, gleaming against the dusty lane.

The door opened.

Lata stepped out.

Draped in a wine-red saree, her hair falling in soft curls, she carried herself with an elegance that was almost defiant. No shame, no hesitation — only that calm, cutting confidence of a woman who knew she still had the power to turn heads.

The murmurs began.
Kairi froze, the garland slipping from her hand.

From the house, Yug emerged, irritation in his stride.
“What’s all this noise—”

And then his eyes locked on her.

His whole body went rigid.
“Lata.”

The name cracked the air.

Lata tilted her head, lips curving.
“Still remember my name? I was worried you’d erased me.”

Yug’s voice was cold steel.
“I erased you the day you walked out of my life.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Relatives whispered, but neither of them looked away.

Kairi clutched her dupatta, wishing she could vanish.

“Harsh,” Lata drawled. “But you were always dramatic, weren’t you? Shutting yourself in that study, drowning in whiskey instead of facing your pain. Tell me, Yug — how’s that working out for you?”

“Leave,” Yug bit out, taking a step forward. “Before I forget there are people watching.”

But Lata’s gaze slid past him, landing on Kairi.
Her smile sharpened.
“Oh. So this is her.”

Kairi’s breath caught.

“Don’t,” Yug warned, his tone deadly.

Lata ignored him, circling closer to Kairi like a predator.
“She’s sweet-faced. Younger. Innocent. The opposite of me. How predictable — a man scorned running to the safest pair of eyes he can find.”

“That’s enough,” Yug snapped, stepping in front of Kairi. His body was a shield, his voice low and dangerous.
“You don’t get to talk about her.”

Lata arched a brow.
“Touchy. Does Shaurya know you’re guarding her so closely? Or should I enlighten him?”

Kairi’s stomach twisted.

“You try to poison my brother against her,” Yug growled, fists clenched, “and I swear—”

She laughed — soft, cruel.
“Swear what? That you’ll finally admit the truth? That you’ll confess what you really want but can’t claim?”

The courtyard air thickened. Yug’s silence said more than words ever could.

Kairi stepped back, pulse hammering, feeling naked under the weight of Lata’s insinuations. Exposed. Shamed.

Lata’s voice dripped with venom.
“History repeats, Yug. You’re still the man who destroys the women he touches.”

“Get out,” Yug rasped, voice guttural with fury.

But Lata only glanced once more at Kairi, a slow, deliberate smile curling her lips.
“I’ll see you soon.”

Her heels clicked against the stones as she left, leaving behind a silence heavier than thunder.

Kairi’s chest rose and fell sharply. She couldn’t breathe here — not under Shaurya’s roof, not under Lata’s shadow. Without a word, she turned and walked away, Yug’s hand half-reaching for her wrist before he stopped himself.

Because she didn’t need his protection.
She needed her self-respect.

And tonight, both felt impossibly far away.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 9

Later That Night – A Quiet Café in Town

Lata sat in the corner booth, sunglasses perched even though it was night, swirling her glass of wine. Her phone buzzed — but she ignored it, her eyes fixed on the swirling liquid.

Her thoughts were sharper than her smile had been.

He still burns for me.
Yug’s silence, his clenched fists, the way he had thrown himself between her and that girl — oh, she had seen it all. And more importantly, she had seen Kairi’s eyes.

Naïve. Tender. Trembling between desire and guilt.

Lata smirked.
“This is too easy.”

She pulled a notepad from her clutch and scribbled, speaking to herself in a hushed whisper:
“Step one: Break the girl’s faith in him. Step two: Remind her of his cruelty. Step three: Push her to hate him enough to walk away — just like I did.”

Her nails tapped against the paper.
“No… better than walking away. Make her reject him. That will cut him deeper than anything I ever did.”

She leaned back, her smile venom-sweet.
“Kairi thinks she’s different. That her ‘self-respect’ makes her stronger. But all I need to do is show her the Yug I know — the arrogant, broken man who can’t love without destroying. And when she sees it? She’ll hate him.”

She lifted her glass in a mock toast, her eyes glittering.
“And Yug… my dear ex-husband… will finally know what it feels like to be left bleeding by the one person he thought was pure.”

Her laughter was low, dangerous, rolling into the dim café air.

Meanwhile – Kairi’s Room

Kairi sat on the edge of her bed, her fists clenched into her lap. Yug’s furious eyes, Lata’s cruel smile, and Shaurya’s trusting face all tangled in her mind.

She whispered into the darkness:
“Why does it hurt this much? Why do I feel guilty for something I never even chose?”

But the truth was, her heart had chosen. And that’s why every word from Lata stung.

What she didn’t know was that soon, Lata herself would come knocking — not with threats, but with soft poison disguised as sisterly advice.

And Kairi, already battling guilt, might just listen.

The Next Day – Behind the Temple Courtyard

Kairi was adjusting her dupatta, the faint clang of morning bells still lingering in the air, when she heard her name spoken softly: “Kairi.”

Her body went rigid. That voice—smooth, practiced, dangerous. She turned and found Lata standing there, calm and elegant as though she belonged everywhere.

“What do you want?” Kairi asked, her tone clipped, defensive.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” Lata replied easily, her lips curving into a smile that looked kind but carried no warmth. “I came to talk. Woman to woman.”

Kairi crossed her arms, refusing to be lulled. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, but we do,” Lata countered, stepping closer. Her voice lowered, conspiratorial. “You see, I was once exactly where you are. Young. In love with Yug. Believing I could change him.”

Kairi’s jaw tightened, though her silence betrayed hesitation. Lata pressed forward, her words dripping honey over venom. “Tell me… hasn’t he already hurt you? That anger of his, those moods that shift like storms? You think you can live forever on edge, never knowing when he’ll wound you again?”

Kairi shook her head sharply. “People change. Maybe he—”

“They don’t,” Lata cut in with quiet force. “Not men like Yug. I tried. I gave him everything—my years, my devotion, my dignity. And what did it leave me with? Scars you can’t see. A heart that bled dry.”

For the first time, Kairi faltered, fingers tightening around her stole. She whispered, almost to herself, “But… he’s different with me…”

Lata leaned in, close enough for her perfume to cling to the air between them. “That’s what I thought too. That’s what every woman thinks, until the truth burns through. His guilt, his rage, his demons… they never disappear. They only consume the ones closest to him. And when it happens to you, Kairi—you’ll remember this moment and wish you had listened.”

The temple bells rang again, louder this time, slicing through the silence. Kairi stood frozen, her heart unsteady, her faith in Yug quietly shaken.

Straightening, Lata smoothed her dupatta and smiled faintly, the performance complete. “I don’t hate you,” she said almost sweetly. “If anything, I pity you. Because I already know how your story with him ends.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving Kairi rooted to the spot, her mind torn between what she had lived with Yug and the poison Lata had just left festering in her chest.

Kairi’s Room — Moments Later

The door shut with a muted thud behind her, but the sound inside her head was deafening. Kairi pressed her back against the wood, her breath shallow, her pulse racing.

Lata’s words replayed, sharper with each echo: “His guilt, his rage, his demons… they never disappear. They only consume the ones closest to him.”

Kairi clutched at her dupatta as though it could anchor her, but her fingers only trembled. She thought of last night—the gentleness of Yug’s hands, the raw ache in his voice when he said he shouldn’t have touched her, the way he had looked at her like she was both salvation and sin.

But then… she also remembered the other side. The silences. The sudden distance. The way he’d said “It can’t happen again” as if her heart had been a mistake.

“What if she’s right?” Kairi whispered to the empty room. Her voice cracked, the admission slicing her chest. “What if I’m just… the next woman he breaks?”

She moved to the mirror and stared at her own reflection—eyes red-rimmed, lips quivering. For a moment, she didn’t even recognize herself. She saw a girl teetering between hope and ruin, a girl who had given too much of herself to a man who couldn’t decide if he wanted her or not.

And suddenly, doubt slithered in like smoke: Was last night real? Or was it just guilt dressed as passion?

Her throat burned. She grabbed the silver comb on her table, brushing her hair with sharp, hurried strokes as if she could untangle the mess inside her. But the harder she pulled, the more her scalp stung—and still, the knots refused to leave.

Finally, Kairi dropped the comb, pressing both palms against the cool surface of the table. “I can’t… I can’t let myself fall deeper,” she whispered, as though saying it out loud would protect her.

But in the silence that followed, she knew the truth. She was already too deep.

Kairi’s Room — Afternoon

Kairi sat on the edge of the bed, her arms locked around her knees. Her face was pale, eyes still clouded by Lata’s words. The room smelled faintly of damp air and jasmine oil, but even the familiar comfort felt foreign now.

A knock startled her. Firm. Hesitant. Familiar.

“Kairi?”

Her stomach clenched. She recognized that voice anywhere.

Yug.

For a second, she froze. Maybe if she stayed quiet, he would leave. Maybe if she kept her walls intact, she could hold on to the fragile distance she had promised herself.

But the door creaked open anyway.

Yug stepped inside, his expression carrying that mix of storm and restraint that always unsettled her. His gaze swept over her face, the redness around her eyes, the way her shoulders seemed too stiff, too fragile.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly, though his tone was more accusation than observation.

Kairi’s lips parted, but no words came. She looked away, staring at the floor.

He stepped closer, impatience flickering. “Kairi, what’s going on? Did I… do something again? Tell me.”

Her throat constricted. Lata’s venomous warning clawed its way back: He’ll hurt you the way he hurt me.

“You don’t need to worry,” she murmured, her voice brittle. “I was just—busy.”

“Busy?” He let out a low, incredulous laugh. “That’s your excuse? After everything that—” He stopped, swallowing the word, but it hung heavy in the air between them.

Kairi’s eyes darted to his, and for the briefest moment, she saw the raw concern there. The kind that could make her break all over again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Like what?” His voice cracked just slightly.

“Like I matter to you.”

The silence afterward was brutal. Yug’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he struggled to find words.

“Kairi…” he started, stepping forward again. But she stood quickly, creating space, clutching her dupatta like armor.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Not with you. Not when I don’t even know if I’ll survive the wreckage you’ll leave behind.”

Yug flinched as if struck. “What are you saying?”

She looked at him finally, her eyes shimmering with both longing and defiance. “I’m saying maybe… maybe I’m not strong enough to be the woman who heals your wounds, Yug. Maybe I’ll just end up bleeding with you.”

For once, he had no reply. His jaw tightened, his fists curled loosely at his sides. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong—but the truth was, her words sliced too close to his own buried fears.

Kairi took a shaky breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze just long enough before she moved toward the door. “Please… just go.”

And this time, it was Yug who stood frozen in her room, watching her retreat, realizing that her silence hurt far worse than her tears.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 10

Kairi’s Room — Afternoon

Kairi’s words — “Please… just go.” — still trembled in the air when Yug’s eyes hardened.

“No.”

The single word froze her in place.

She turned slowly, her dupatta still gripped tight, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Yug—”

But before she could finish, he crossed the distance in two strides and caught her wrist, pulling her back toward him. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was unyielding — the kind of hold that said he wasn’t going to let her slip away again.

“You don’t get to shut me out like this,” he said, his voice low but blazing. “Not after last night. Not after everything.”

Her throat constricted. “That’s exactly why I should. Don’t you see? I’m already—” Her voice cracked, but she forced it out. “I’m already breaking, Yug.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something raw. “And you think I’m not?” He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think I don’t lie awake cursing myself for touching you, for wanting you? For betraying Shaurya in ways I swore I never would?”

Her lips trembled, but her tears refused to fall. “Then why are you here? Why make it worse?”

“Because I can’t stay away!” The confession ripped out of him before he could stop it, his grip tightening as if the truth itself might shatter him. “Do you understand that? I tried, Kairi. I tried to hate you, to bury it, to pretend it was just one night — but every time I see you, every time you walk past me like I’m nothing, it kills me.”

Her chest heaved, the force of his words threatening to undo her resolve. But Lata’s poison whispered in her mind, feeding her doubts.

“And what happens when you wake up one day and I’m not enough?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling but sharp. “When you decide I was just another mistake? Another… betrayal?”

Yug’s face twisted with anguish. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to her.”

The vehemence in his tone startled her, but she shook her head, pressing back tears. “But I can’t un-hear the way you regret me, Yug. The way you look at me like you’ve sinned. You think that doesn’t burn me alive?”

Something broke in his eyes. He pulled her closer, their faces inches apart, his breath ragged.

“I regret my weakness,” he said fiercely. “Not you. Never you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut at the words, as if they were too dangerous to hear. Her body swayed against his pull, but her voice still shook. “Then why does it feel like loving you means destroying myself?”

The silence that followed was electric, charged, trembling on the edge of something neither of them could name.

Yug’s hand slid from her wrist to her face, cupping her cheek with trembling desperation. “Because maybe… maybe that’s what this is. Two broken people setting fire to each other.”

Kairi’s breath hitched as his thumb brushed away a tear. She should have pulled back. She should have run. But her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch, aching for the ruin he promised.

And for the first time, neither of them moved away.

Kairi’s Room — Afternoon

Yug’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb trembling against her skin as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every fragile breath.

Kairi’s pulse thundered. Her lips parted, her body swaying closer even as her mind screamed no. But his eyes — dark, burning, stripped of every wall — pinned her in place.

And then, suddenly, his mouth was on hers.

The kiss wasn’t soft this time. It was hungry, urgent — a clash of fear and longing that stole the air from both of them. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her against him like he was terrified she might vanish.

She gasped against his lips, her fingers clutching at his shirt, knuckles white, betraying the truth her words refused to. She kissed him back with equal desperation — like two people drowning, clinging to the only thing that felt real.

Every regret, every denial, every sleepless night — it was all there, pressed between their mouths.

“Yug…” she whispered when they broke apart just long enough to breathe, but he silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, his forehead pressing against hers as if he could fuse them together.

Her heart raced wildly, her body arching into his, their breaths ragged and uneven, every inch of her betraying how much she wanted him still.

And then—

“Kairi?”

The voice at the door shattered them apart like glass breaking.

They froze, breaths colliding, eyes wide. Shalu’s voice came again, lighter but closer. “You in there? Ma’s looking for you.”

Yug dropped his hands, stumbling back a step, chest heaving like he’d been punched. Kairi pressed trembling fingers to her lips, her whole body on fire.

The silence between them was deafening.

Yug’s jaw clenched, torn between storming out and pulling her back into his arms. But all he managed was a broken whisper:

“This… this is what I mean. We can’t stop.”

Kairi’s eyes filled with tears, her lips still red and swollen from his kiss. She shook her head furiously, though her heart betrayed her. “Then we must. Before we destroy everything.”

The door rattled with a soft knock. “Kairi?”

She shoved Yug toward the balcony with trembling hands. “Go. Please.”

For a second, he didn’t move. His eyes searched hers — desperate, pleading, furious — but then he turned sharply and slipped out into the open air, leaving the storm of his presence behind.

Kairi collapsed against the doorframe, her chest heaving. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to smother the sob that threatened to escape.

Shalu’s voice came again, gentle. “Are you alright?”

Kairi swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. “Y-Yes. Coming.”

But when she lowered her hands, her lips were still tingling, and her heart was still betraying the truth: she didn’t want to stop.

Yug — Balcony Outside Kairi’s Room

The humid air clung to his skin as Yug gripped the railing so hard the rust dug into his palms. His breath came in sharp bursts, his chest heaving as though he’d just run miles — but it wasn’t running. It was her.

Her lips still burned against his. Her hands still fisted in his shirt. Her voice — that broken “Yug…” — still rang in his ears like a plea he couldn’t silence.

“Damn it!” he hissed under his breath, slamming his fist against the railing. The metal rattled, but it wasn’t enough to bleed out the fury boiling in his veins.

He had sworn to himself it wouldn’t happen again. Sworn that the last night was the first and the last. But the moment he touched her, the moment she let him in again — he was gone. Completely undone.

“She’s my brother’s fiancée,” he muttered, pacing the narrow balcony, dragging both hands through his hair. The words tasted bitter. Wrong. “Shaurya trusts me. He—he…” His voice cracked, hollow.

But every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her face when she kissed him back — not hesitant, not confused, but with the same damn hunger that ate him alive.

And that was what terrified him most.

Because it wasn’t one-sided.

Because he wasn’t the only one breaking.

He pressed his forehead against the cold wall, eyes shut tight. “I can’t stop,” he whispered hoarsely, hating himself for it. “God help me, I can’t stop.”

But even in the middle of that storm of guilt, a darker truth sank in like poison:

He didn’t want to.

Not when she looked at him like that.
Not when she kissed him like the world would end if they pulled apart.
Not when every part of him had already chosen her — long before Shaurya ever came into the picture.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor below made him jolt back, wiping the sweat from his brow. He forced himself to breathe evenly, to still the thunder inside before someone saw him like this.

But as he straightened, his reflection in the glass window mocked him — eyes red, lips swollen, jaw clenched. He didn’t look like Yug Sinha, the calm, composed elder brother.

He looked like a man unraveling.

And for the first time in years, Yug was terrified of himself.

Balcony — Yug, unraveling / Lata in the shadows

Yug’s shoulders slumped as he braced both hands on the railing, the picture of a man who’d just lost a battle no one else even knew he was fighting. His lips parted like he might curse again, but nothing came out — only a guttural exhale that carried both desire and disgust.

From the far corner of the corridor, where the light barely reached, Lata stood still as stone. Her sari blended with the dark, but her eyes gleamed — sharp, unblinking, predatory.

She had seen enough.

The tremor in Yug’s hands.
The way his jaw clenched every time his thoughts clearly circled back to Kairi.
The mark of a man enslaved, not by duty, but by temptation.

A slow smile curved on her lips, cold and victorious. “So the mighty Yug is breaking,” she whispered to herself, tilting her head like a vulture sizing up carrion.

Every flicker of self-loathing in him, every ounce of guilt — she drank it in, storing it like a weapon. Because guilt was the one thing that made people destroy themselves without anyone else lifting a hand.

But she wouldn’t leave it to chance. Oh no.

Her mind sharpened into strategy:
Kairi’s confusion.
Yug’s torment.
Shaurya’s blind trust.

Three threads, all tangled — and Lata’s fingers itched to pull them tighter until the whole family choked on the knot.

Her gaze lingered on Yug, still pacing like a caged animal. The sight almost amused her. He thought he could resist? He thought his conscience could cage his desire?

Foolish boy.

“You’ve already fallen,” she murmured under her breath, her tone honeyed with mockery. “And soon, Kairi will push you deeper. Not because she wants to — but because I’ll make sure she doubts you, fears you, wounds you. The way I did.”

Her voice lowered, softer, dangerous: “And when she does, it’ll be your own heart that finishes you off, Yug. Not me.”

She turned soundlessly, retreating into the corridor’s darkness before he could sense her presence. The click of her bangles was the only ghost of her passing, swallowed by the night.

Back on the balcony, Yug slammed his palms flat against the railing again, lost in himself — never realizing that someone had already seen the crack in his armor.

And planned to drive the knife straight through it.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 11

Next Morning — Kairi’s Room

Kairi stirred awake with the first slice of dawn cutting through the curtains, brushing warmth over her skin. For one blissful second she almost forgot the heaviness in her chest — until memory crashed down like a wave.

His eyes.
His hands gripping her shoulders.
That kiss — desperate, searing, dangerous.

She sat up abruptly, pressing the heel of her palm against her lips as though she could rub away the phantom burn. But it lingered, stubborn, humming under her skin.

Her breath shuddered out. “What have I done?” she whispered to the empty room.

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way her body had betrayed her, leaning in when she should’ve pulled away, answering him when she should’ve stood her ground. Self-respect had been her shield — yet in that moment, desire had cracked it.

She pushed her hair back with trembling fingers, the strands damp with night sweat. Her kurta clung to her, heavy, reminding her of the storm outside that had mirrored the storm inside.

Images replayed mercilessly: Yug’s voice breaking when he asked why she pushed him away. The rawness in his touch. The silence after their lips parted, thick with things neither could admit.

Her throat tightened. She should hate him. She should. After everything, after his arrogance, after Lata’s words still echoing in her ears like poison.

But hate didn’t explain the way her heart stuttered even now.

“No, Kairi,” she murmured to herself, standing abruptly, pacing. “This is exactly what he wants — to see me weak, to make me one of those women he can break.”

She crossed to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen, restless, betraying the sleepless night. For a second, she didn’t see herself at all — she saw the woman Yug’s longing could make her into, and it terrified her.

Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. She had promised herself she wouldn’t lose. Not to him. Not to this. Not after all she had endured.

And yet…

The echo of his lips on hers returned, unbidden. She closed her eyes, almost swaying under the weight of it.

Tears pricked hot, but she forced them back. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not where anyone could see.

But she knew one thing for certain — she had to put distance between herself and Yug. Before her heart betrayed her again.

She straightened her shoulders, wiping the moisture from her eyes. “Today, I walk away,” she whispered, as if willing herself into strength.

And with that, Kairi slipped out of the room, carrying the storm inside her where no one could see.

Later That Day — The Courtyard

Kairi moved briskly across the courtyard, her dupatta-like stole tucked close to her chest, her face carefully blank. Every step felt deliberate, as though she were training herself to walk through fire without flinching.

Behind her, Yug’s gaze caught and fixed. He had been leaning against the jeep, arms folded, as though waiting for something—or maybe someone. The moment he saw her, his eyes sharpened.

“Kairi.” His voice cut across the air, low and commanding.

She froze for half a heartbeat, then forced herself to keep walking, not turning.

But Yug wasn’t a man to be ignored. In a few strides, he was beside her, matching her pace. “You didn’t hear me?”

“I’m busy,” she said flatly, not breaking stride.

That stung more than he let show. He slowed, studying her face—the same face that had trembled under his hands last night, the same lips he had kissed as though the world were ending. And now? A mask of indifference.

His jaw tightened. “Strange. You weren’t too busy to look me in the eye yesterday.”

Kairi’s steps faltered just enough to betray her, before she caught herself and forced her spine straighter. “Yesterday was… a mistake. One I don’t care to repeat.”

Yug’s eyes narrowed, the words digging under his skin like glass splinters. A mistake? His mistake, maybe—but she had kissed him back. He remembered the way her breath had hitched, the way her hands had clutched his shirt. That wasn’t a mistake. That was truth, raw and undeniable.

He moved a fraction closer, lowering his voice. “Funny. Didn’t feel like a mistake when you couldn’t pull away.”

Her breath caught, but she masked it with a sharp look. “Not everything is about what you feel, Yug. Some of us value self-respect more than stolen moments.”

For a second, the words cut him clean through. His throat worked, but he swallowed the burn, his pride refusing to show the wound.

He tilted his head, studying her with that unsettling intensity. “Self-respect, huh? Or is it fear? You keep running, Kairi. But don’t forget—running doesn’t erase the truth.”

Before she could retort, Shaurya’s voice called from across the courtyard, casual and oblivious. “Kairi!”

Both of them froze. Yug’s expression hardened instantly, masking the chaos in his chest. Kairi forced a polite smile and turned, walking toward Shaurya like nothing had happened—leaving Yug rooted behind, fists clenched, watching her slip further from him with every step.

And in the shadows, Lata’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Exactly as she had intended.

The Days That Follow — Mohalla

Kairi’s silence became sharper than words. She no longer flinched when Yug entered a room — she simply didn’t look at him. If he spoke, she replied in clipped syllables, never meeting his eyes. If he lingered near, she found an excuse to leave.

It was killing him.

Each time he caught her gaze by accident, it was like staring at a stranger. Those eyes, which had once brimmed with fire and the faintest trace of something softer, now slid past him as though he were invisible.

He cornered her once in the kitchen, his voice rough with unspent frustration. “How long do you plan to keep this up?”

She didn’t pause her work, grinding spices with steady hands. “Keep what up?”

“This act.” His jaw clenched. “Pretending last night never happened.”

Her hand faltered for just a fraction of a second — he noticed, of course he noticed — but she forced herself to keep grinding, her voice even. “You’re mistaken. Nothing happened worth remembering.”

The words landed like a knife, and though she didn’t look up, she felt the weight of his stare, raw and angry. Then he was gone, boots striking hard against the floor, leaving her throat tight with tears she refused to shed.

Elsewhere in the mohalla, Lata’s poison spread.

It began as whispers over shared tea cups, casual and insidious.

“Did you notice how close Kairi is to both brothers?” Lata murmured to a neighbor, her tone heavy with false sympathy.

The neighbor frowned. “Both? What do you mean?”

“Oh, maybe it’s nothing,” Lata said, lowering her voice, feigning hesitation. “But some say she smiles too sweetly at Shaurya… and yet Yug too seems… unsettled. A girl caught between two men — it’s never a good look, is it?”

The words were carried away like sparks on dry grass. Soon, little comments cropped up at the well, in the market, on doorsteps. Women whispered behind Kairi’s back, men cast sharper, more judgmental eyes her way.

“She’s too clever, that one.”
“Poor Shaurya, doesn’t even see it.”
“First one brother, then the other — who knows what she really wants?”

Yug heard it, too.

He caught the half-finished sentences when he walked by, saw the glances shift toward him and Kairi. Each word made his blood boil. But what cut deeper was Kairi’s response: instead of fighting back, she withdrew even further.

She stopped lingering in the courtyard, avoided gatherings, kept her head bowed and her voice low. The proud fire in her seemed dimmed, smothered under the weight of suspicion.

And the more she pulled away, the more Yug felt the walls closing in. He wanted to storm into the middle of the mohalla and shout that she wasn’t what they thought — that he, not she, was the one who couldn’t keep his heart from straying. But his pride, his fear, his own confusion, held him back.

Every night he paced the balcony alone, fists tight, trying to find a way through the silence she had built between them. Every morning he saw her pass with her eyes downcast, and the distance grew.

And in the shadows, Lata smiled.

The Temple Courtyard — One Fine Afternoon

The mohalla had gathered for the weekly offering. Brass bells clanged, incense curled into the sky, and women bustled with trays of flowers and sweets.

Kairi stood near the steps, her dupatta drawn modestly over her head, helping Shalu arrange marigold garlands. She kept her focus sharp, refusing to let her eyes drift toward the man she could feel watching from across the courtyard.

Yug.

He stood beside Shaurya, outwardly stoic, inwardly coiled tight. Every time Kairi avoided his gaze, his chest burned. Every time someone whispered behind their hands, his jaw clenched.

And then—Lata struck.

She stepped forward with the fluid grace of someone who knew the eyes of the mohalla would follow. Draped in a rich sari, her lips curved into a sympathetic smile as she addressed the gathering.

“Strange, isn’t it,” she said, loud enough for the circle of women to hear, “how fate repeats itself? One woman… two brothers.”

Heads turned. A ripple of murmurs passed. Kairi froze, garland slipping from her hand.

Lata’s eyes gleamed, locking onto her prey. “Some of you may not know, but in my time, I too was caught between choices. And now…” She let her gaze linger on Kairi, slow, deliberate. “It seems our dear Kairi walks the same dangerous path. Shaurya’s bride-to-be, yet whispers of her closeness to Yug… Tell me, is this devotion? Or deception?”

The words landed like stones in water — loud splashes followed by echoing ripples. The crowd leaned in, scandal flashing in their eyes. A few women exchanged knowing looks. Someone muttered, “I knew it.”

Kairi’s face went pale. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her throat felt stuffed with cotton, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

And then Yug moved.

He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the whispers like a blade. “Enough.”

The courtyard stilled. Bells stopped ringing.

He fixed Lata with a glare that burned hotter than the midday sun. “You want to spit poison, Lata? Do it about me. Not her.”

Gasps. Lata blinked, momentarily thrown. “Yug—”

“She is not you,” he thundered, stepping closer, his voice raw. “She is not your shadow, not your excuse, not your mirror. Don’t you dare compare her to you.”

Kairi’s eyes widened, the world tilting.

Yug turned toward the gathering, his chest heaving. “Anyone who questions her character will answer to me. Whatever you think you’ve seen, whatever whispers you’ve heard—remember this: Kairi is not the kind of woman who plays with hearts. If anyone is guilty of weakness, it’s me. Not her.”

A stunned silence followed. The mohalla, hungry for scandal, suddenly found itself choking on it.

Kairi felt the breath rush from her lungs, tears blurring her vision. For the first time, he had said it openly—not just to her, not in secret—but to the world.

Lata’s mask slipped, just for a moment, revealing raw fury beneath. She had meant to shame Kairi, to make Yug recoil from her. Instead, he had bared his own chest to the fire.

And as the whispers died into uneasy silence, Kairi realized the truth: flawed, broken, haunted as he was… Yug had chosen her.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 12

After the Chaos — Behind the Temple

The courtyard slowly emptied, leaving behind the echo of bells and hushed murmurs. People drifted away in twos and threes, whispering, glancing back, carrying fragments of scandal like burning coals in their palms.

Kairi slipped away before anyone could corner her. Her feet carried her blindly to the quiet space behind the temple, where the neem tree’s shade cast dappled light across the stone wall. She leaned back, clutching at her dupatta, trying to steady the thunder in her chest.

And then she felt him.

Yug.

He was there, steps heavy, face storm-bruised, eyes burning not with anger now, but with something deeper—something raw.

“Kairi,” he rasped.

She shook her head, words tumbling before she could stop them. “Why did you do that? Why would you expose yourself like that in front of everyone? Now they’ll—” Her voice cracked. “They’ll destroy you.”

“I don’t care.” His hand slammed against the wall near her shoulder, his body trembling with the force of it. “Let them talk about me. But they don’t get to touch you. They don’t get to drag your name through filth.”

Her breath hitched, hot tears burning down her cheeks. She wanted to stay strong, to stay cold. But the dam had cracked.

“Yug…” She swallowed hard, her voice shaking. “After everything—after your arrogance, after her poison—you still—” She broke, her hands curling into fists against his chest. “I still feel like I belong to you.”

His world tilted. The walls he had built, the pride he had clung to, crumbled under those words. For a long moment, he just stared at her, as though memorizing her face for a lifetime.

Then he kissed her.

Fierce. Desperate. Like a man kissing not for possession, but for farewell. His hands framed her face, trembling, his lips crashing against hers with a hunger that had no tomorrow. She clutched his shirt, answering him with all the fear and longing she had buried, tears streaking down her cheeks even as she kissed him back.

When he finally tore away, his breath was ragged, his forehead pressed to hers.

“You deserve better than me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “A life free of guilt, free of whispers, free of the stain of my mistakes. Shaurya… he can give you that. I never can.”

“No—” she choked, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips, his eyes glistening with the weight of surrender.

“This is my punishment, Kairi. To love you… and let you go.”

Her heart shattered. He stepped back, slowly, like tearing his soul from his body, leaving her trembling against the wall.

And then he walked away.

Each step echoing like a verdict.

Leaving Kairi behind with nothing but the taste of his last kiss—and the unbearable wound of a love that could never be.

The Mandap — Day of the Wedding

Revelation and Release

Kairi sat beside Shaurya, her posture perfect, her expression calm, but her heart was in turmoil. Every chant from the priest echoed like a hollow beat inside her. She glanced briefly at Shaurya, who gave her a small, knowing smile—one that unsettled her rather than reassured.

From the shadows, Yug stood stiff, his fists clenched, his eyes glued to Kairi. The fire of the sacred mandap flickered across his face, exposing the battle inside him—wanting to tear her away, yet bound by the promise he had made to set her free.

The priest’s voice grew louder, calling for the vows. Kairi’s hands trembled as she adjusted her dupatta.

“Wait,” Shaurya’s voice cut through the air, steady and calm.

Everyone turned—Mairi, Shlok, Samay, Imarti, Gujiya, Biscuit, Taraju, and Shalu. Murmurs spread like sparks through dry wood.

Kairi’s eyes widened. “Shaurya…?”

Shaurya’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, then shifted to Yug. “This wedding is not real. It was never meant to be.”

Gasps escaped Imarti and Gujiya, while Biscuit blinked in shock. Shlok and Samay exchanged satisfied nods.

“What are you saying?” Kairi whispered, her voice breaking.

Shaurya took a deep breath. “We staged this together—all of us. Because you and Yug keep denying the truth. You think sacrificing yourselves makes everyone happy, but the whole family can see it—your love is too strong to be buried.”

Shlok stepped forward, his tone firm. “Bhai is right. You and Yug are made for each other. Why keep fighting what is written in your hearts?”

Samay nodded, crossing his arms. “We had to do this… to make you both admit it.”

Kairi’s throat tightened, her eyes filling with tears as she turned slowly toward Yug. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his face etched with anguish.

It was then Mairi spoke, the mother’s voice in her trembling with a mix of pain and relief. “Kairi… beta, I’ve seen you suffer silently. But today I see it clearer than ever—you’re not meant to live in chains of guilt. You’re meant to live in love. With him.”

Kairi’s tears spilled as she whispered, “Yug…”

At last, Yug stepped forward, no longer able to stand apart. His eyes locked with hers, unblinking, raw with need and love. He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing hers gently, reverently.

“I tried to let you go,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking. “I thought it was the only way… but I can’t. I can’t live without you, Kairi.”

Her lips trembled, her tears falling freely. “And I… I can’t breathe without you.”

In that moment, the walls crumbled. Yug cupped her face, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling in unison. “No more lies,” he whispered. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

Kairi closed the last bit of distance, pressing her lips to his in a kiss full of fire and release.

The family watched with relief and joy—Shlok clapping his brother’s back, Samay grinning, Imarti and Gujiya squealing softly, Biscuit jumping in excitement, Taraju and Shalu exchanging proud smiles.

Mairi’s hands folded in prayer as tears rolled down her cheeks. For the first time, she let herself smile fully as a mother seeing her children finally claim their happiness.

Shaurya gave them a small nod, satisfied. “Finally.”

At the edges of the mandap, the whispers of the mohalla swirled, but no one dared to interrupt.

And in the shadows beyond, Lata’s face burned with fury as she realized her carefully woven plans had unraveled. With a cold glare, she turned and stormed away, leaving the fire she had once stoked to die on its own.

The mandap that was meant for sacrifice had become the place where Kairi and Yug finally chose each other, openly, fiercely, forever.

-----

To be continued.

Chapter 13

The Mandap — From Confession to Union

The kiss broke, but the fire it lit remained burning in their eyes. Kairi clung to Yug’s hand, her chest rising and falling as though she had finally come up for air after drowning for years.

Shaurya stepped forward, his tone calm but commanding. “Then what are we waiting for? This mandap was built for a wedding—and it will be yours.”

The priest, startled but smiling softly, adjusted his shawl and nodded. “If the families consent, we can begin the true rituals at once.”

Mairi pressed her palms together, tears streaking her face. “Yes. This is what I prayed for all along. Kairi belongs with Yug.”

Shlok and Samay exchanged grins, quickly stepping into place. Imarti, Gujiya, and Biscuit squealed in delight, rushing to bring the thaali with sindoor and the mangalsutra that had been prepared for Shaurya’s marriage. Taraju and Shalu moved to steady the sacred fire, their eyes bright with joy.

Yug looked down at Kairi, his hand tightening around hers. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

Her lips curved into a trembling smile, her tears shining in the firelight. “Always. With you, always.”

The chants began again, the priest guiding them. Yug and Kairi circled the sacred fire, their pheres binding them not only in tradition but in the truth of their love finally unchained. Each step was heavy with meaning—every promise they had denied now spoken through fire and vow.

Then came the moment. Yug lifted the pinch of sindoor, his hand shaking slightly as he looked into Kairi’s eyes. She closed her eyes briefly, bowing her head, and in a breath that felt eternal, he placed the vermillion into the parting of her hair. The red streak glowed beneath the flames, a mark of love and permanence.

Gasps and smiles spread among the family. Mairi pressed her hands to her mouth, overwhelmed, whispering a prayer of gratitude.

Next, Yug took the mangalsutra in his hands. The black and gold beads shimmered as he leaned forward, gently tying it around Kairi’s neck. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat on the chain, and when she looked up at him, her eyes glistened with the quiet knowledge that she was his, and he was hers, in every way that mattered.

As the final knot was tied, the priest announced, “From this moment, you are husband and wife. Bound not by force, but by truth, faith, and love.”

Cheers erupted. Shlok whooped, pulling Samay into a half-hug. Imarti and Gujiya clapped and twirled, while Biscuit shouted, “Jai ho jiju!” Taraju and Shalu laughed, their pride evident in their eyes.

Mairi stepped forward, cupping Kairi’s face, then resting her hand on Yug’s shoulder. “Take care of her… she is my soul,” she said, voice breaking with emotion.

Yug bent his head respectfully, his voice thick. “She is my world. Always.”

Kairi leaned into his side, her sindoor and mangalsutra glinting in the light, her heart finally steady.

And as the family gathered around them, the mandap that had been meant for sacrifice became the witness to a love that had survived fire, lies, and fate—reborn as something eternal.

Grahpravesh – The First Step Into Her New World

The wedding concluded amidst laughter, chants, and tears of joy. As twilight descended, the Sinha house came alive with lamps and garlands, ready to welcome its new bahu.

At the threshold, Kairi stood shyly, her sari pleats brushing the floor, the weight of sindoor and mangalsutra a constant reminder of her new life. Mairi held the traditional thaali with rice and vermilion water, her smile trembling with pride.

“Beta, now it is your turn to step into this house, not as a guest, but as its heart,” Mairi said softly.

Kairi’s eyes glistened. She glanced at Yug, who stood by her side, his eyes never leaving her face, protective and reverent. At Mairi’s nod, Kairi gently kicked the kalash of rice, its grains spilling forward in a cascade—symbol of prosperity and abundance. Her footprints, wet with vermilion water, marked the floor as she entered, each step claiming the house as her own.

Imarti squealed in delight. “Didi’s footprints are so pretty!” Gujiya clapped her hands. Biscuit puffed his chest proudly. “My sister is now queen of this house!”

Shlok and Samay exchanged teasing glances with Shaurya, while Taraju and Shalu laughed, echoing the joy that filled the house.

Next came the playful rasams—finding the ring in a bowl of milk and rose petals. Kairi giggled softly as Yug tried to outwit her, but she managed to snatch the ring first, her siblings erupting in cheers.

“Arre, our Kairi didi will rule the marriage!” Biscuit declared.

“Of course she will,” Shlok teased, nudging Yug, who only smirked faintly, his eyes softening every time they flicked toward his bride.

The air brimmed with laughter, yet beneath it, a quiet anticipation stirred. Every ritual brought Yug closer to the moment he had been longing for—the time when all walls would fall away, leaving just him and Kairi.

And Kairi… though smiling and blushing with each rasam, her heart beat faster with every tick of the clock. The thought of being alone with him—her husband, her forbidden love finally made rightful—sent waves of nervousness and anticipation through her.

When the last rasam ended, the family grew mischievous. Shlok whispered something to Samay, who grinned wickedly. Imarti, Gujiya, and Biscuit huddled together with a sparkle in their eyes. Even Shaurya, usually the serious one, folded his arms with a sly smile.

The stage was set. The moment Kairi disappeared into the decorated bridal chamber, her siblings and Yug’s brothers surrounded him in the hallway.

Shaurya smirked, blocking the door. “Not so easy, bhai. A bride waits, but a groom must earn his way.”

“Move,” Yug growled, his composure slipping as his eyes darted toward the door where Kairi waited.

Imarti giggled, “No no, jijaji. First, give us our gifts!”

Gujiya chimed in, “Yes, or we won’t let you pass!”

Biscuit added proudly, “My sister deserves to be teased properly!”

Every time Yug tried to step forward, they pulled him back, laughing and blocking his path. His jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with impatience. For the first time that day, the stoic Yug Sinha looked restless, almost boyish in his desperation.

Finally, with a frustrated growl, he shoved through, managing to slip past their grasp. His siblings’ laughter followed him, but Yug didn’t care. His steps quickened, his breath heavy with need, as he finally reached the room where Kairi waited.

He pushed the door open—

And there she was.

Seated nervously on the flower-strewn bed, her veil trembling slightly with her uneven breaths. At the sight of him, her eyes lifted, wide and glistening, her entire body shivering with anticipation.

Yug closed the door behind him. The laughter outside faded, leaving only the silence of two hearts about to collide in a night that would change everything.

-----

To be continued.