It was almost midnight. I looked outside the window, cars after cars moving in a line, tearing through the cold winds of night like black monsters crawling on the road.
In our car sat me, Dakshit, Dhritya, and little Raghav, while Nani Maa and Jiji were in another vehicle behind us. Dakshit had taken the front seat beside the driver, and I was at the back with Dhritya. Between us, Raghav slept peacefully in my lap, his small breaths fogging the cold glass.
“Why didn’t both of your brothers come with us?” I asked Dhritya, my voice breaking the silence.
She glanced at me, then at her brother sleeping between us. “Actually, they never come with us. I don’t know the real reason… maybe they don’t like the village,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
Before I could respond, Dakshit’s teasing voice came from the front. “Why, bhabhi… are you already missing your husband?”
My eyes widened, and I shook my head quickly. “Oh no, no, it’s nothing like that,” I said at once, trying to cover up my sudden nervousness.
He chuckled softly but didn’t press further, and silence fell in the car again, broken only by the hum of the engine and the soft snores of little Raghav.
I turned towards the window, resting my face against the cool glass, my elbows tucked close as the cold night air brushed against me. The faint earthy smell of wet fields seeped in, and I closed my eyes tightly.
Memories of him rushed back—his rare but genuine smiles, the little giggles and sizzles, his touch, his care… and most of all, the way his hand always seemed to find its place—on my waist, on my neck, and on my—
Butt.
My eyes flew open at once. Heat surged over my cheeks, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Unwillingly, my gaze drifted to the front mirror. Ansh’s reflection was there, and just above him, I caught his eyes. He was looking straight at me. And then—did he just… blink at me? With one eye?
WHAT DID I JUST SEE?!
I jerked my head back to the window, blinking rapidly, my palms pressing against my hot face. Am I imagining things now? Did he really… or is my mind just playing games with me?
The thought itched inside me until I couldn’t resist—I peeked again at the mirror. This time no one was watching. Not even the driver. Everything was normal, so why did my heart still thud like a drum?
“Dugga dugga… ki hochhe amar songe?”
(Oh, god… what’s happening with me?)
I looked down at the sleeping figure resting in my lap. He shifted slightly, curling in as if he felt cold.
With a soft sigh, I pulled my shawl over him, tucking it around his small frame. For a moment, I just watched the rise and fall of his chest, the innocence of sleep. My lips curved faintly. Then, leaning back into the headrest, I closed my eyes—only to find him again in my imagination, haunting me without mercy.
On the other side—
Ansh’s convoy stopped before a towering iron gate, far grander than any ordinary estate. Etched across its arch in glossy black diamonds were the words:
“KASTURI KAUSTUBH.”
He pressed the horn twice. The gates swung open with a mechanical groan, unveiling a sprawling mansion—five times larger than Pratap Manor. One by one, five more cars rolled in behind his, their headlights cutting through the darkness before halting neatly in the vast front yard.
Ansh stepped out, slipping off his black Armani sunglasses with a casual flick. His sharp eyes scanned the massive structure—expressionless, cold, unreadable. Then, despite the doors already standing wide open, he pressed the doorbell.
Inside, an elderly man, seated leisurely in the living hall, flinched at the chime. His cough rattled as he peered up, shock flashing in his eyes.
“Uhu… uhu… janaab,” the old man rasped, his voice thick with disbelief. “What fate brings you here, that you remembered this… unholy place of yours?”
Ansh ignored the welcome, his tone flat as ice.
“Can I step into your hell, Mr. Rajwardhan?”
The old man chuckled dryly, waving a hand.
“Why even ask? It’s yours, after all. You rule this hell.”
Without hesitation, Ansh strode inside and lowered himself onto the sofa opposite him, legs spread with careless authority, eyes shut yet cuttingly alert. His voice dropped, cold and direct:
“I want my mother’s property papers.
That old man smirked, his gaze narrowing.
“So blunt, so rude. At least ask how I am first.”
“I don’t care,” Ansh shot back. “Just give me the papers. I don’t have time to waste.”
The old man’s smile deepened, calm but taunting.
“Fine. Straight to the point, then. Bring your wife to me… and I will hand you your property.”
Ansh’s jaw flexed, his eyes opening, sharp as blades.
“You think I would lie about this? Do you not believe I’m married? Today is my thirtieth birthday, and you think I’d fake marriage just for property?”
“I know you wouldn’t,” that old man said with sly calmness, “but I also know how clever you are. What if it’s just a performance? A forged bond to trick me? No, Ansh… I won’t be fooled. Bring her to me. Let me see her. Only then will the papers be yours.”
“Okay then,” Ansh said coldly, rising from his seat. “I’ll give you the time and venue. You’ll come with the papers.”
“Why would I come?” the old man countered smoothly. “You’re the one who wants something, Ansh. You should come to my house.”
Ansh huffed, pressing his forehead in mild irritation. The air around him stiffened, but he still forced a smile.
“Fine. I’ll come.”
Rajvardhan chuckled, his voice soft but mocking. “Hmm, janaab, come soon. This old man doesn’t have much patience left.”
Ansh’s eyes narrowed, but instead of replying, he simply shook his head and turned away. He had barely taken a few steps when the old man’s next words made him stop mid-stride.
“Don’t you want to meet your grandmother?” Rajvardhan’s tone was deceptively casual. “She’s been missing you so much she fell ill.”
Ansh froze.
“What happened to her?” he asked, voice suddenly low.
“I told you—she’s not well,” the old man replied with a teasing calm. “Missing you terribly.”
Ansh’s lips curved into a bitter smirk.
“Shame on you, Mr. Rajvardhan,” he said, mocking lightly before turning away and heading up the grand staircase.
The old man just smiled faintly, watching him leave—the kind of smile that hides too many secrets.
---
As Ansh reached the first floor, the silence of the mansion deepened. He stopped before the first door on the left and knocked softly. No reply. After a moment, he turned the knob and stepped in.
The faint scent of sandalwood and old medicines hung in the air. On the large bed, an elderly woman lay sleeping, her frail body half-covered by a blanket. Her face was pale, her lips dry, her skin a map of fragile wrinkles.
Ansh’s gaze softened.
He walked closer, each step slower than the last, and finally sat beside her. For a long moment, he simply watched her breathe—each inhale shallow, each exhale trembling.
Quietly, he reached out and took her wrinkled hand in his. It felt cold and paper-thin beneath his touch.
The old lady didn’t move. Perhaps she was deep in sleep—or too weak to respond.
Ansh’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, the first trace of warmth touching his expression As if For everyone else, he was made of stone… but beside her, the cracks quietly showed.
“I wish I could take you with me,” Ansh murmured, his voice low and trembling. “I’m in a trance now… still can’t do anything for you. Your husband, your son—they’re all the same. But don’t worry, I’ll make things right for you. I’ve already brought her to my side. Soon… you’ll be able to see her too.”
A lonely tear slipped down his cheek, gliding along the faint shadow of his beard before falling softly into her open palm. He bent down and pressed a tender kiss onto her wrinkled hand, letting his lips linger there for a heartbeat.
The old woman’s eyelids fluttered. She stirred faintly, sensing his warmth, his presence. Her fingers twitched in his hold as she whispered, weak but full of affection, “Anshu… beta?”
Ansh quickly wiped his eyes, his jaw tightening to hide the emotion threatening to escape.
“Why are you crying?” she asked, panic rising in her frail voice as she tried to sit up.
He caught her gently, helping her upright. “Who’s crying? I’m a man, how can I cry?” he said, forcing a crooked smile.
Her lips curved into a faint smirk. “Who said men don’t cry?”
“Your son… your husband,” he replied quietly.
“They’re assholes,” she said bluntly, waving her fragile hand. “Don’t listen to them.”
A soft chuckle broke from Ansh’s lips, half amusement, half pain. He pulled her into his arms, holding her carefully as if she might break. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady the storm inside him.
“Where were you, Anshu?” she whispered—no, complained, her voice trembling with years of longing. “I missed you so much.”
“I know,” he murmured, smiling faintly against her shoulder. “I missed you too, my heroine.” He pulled back slightly and tugged her cheeks like a child, trying to lighten the air.
“Then why didn’t you come to meet me?”
“I was busy… that’s why. But see, I’m here now,” he replied softly.
She gave him a knowing look, her eyes sharpening through the haze of age. “You’re lying, Anshu. You didn’t come to meet me—you came to take something.”
Ansh froze. He drew back, inhaling slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, forcing a small smile, he changed the subject.
“Why are you still in bed? You’re not taking care of yourself. You want to met your daughter-in-law like this?”
Her chuckle was soft, but she wasn’t fooled. “Bring her to me,” she said. “I’ll make sure she sees me like a changi lady.”
“Where is she — in your maternal uncle’s home? Why didn’t you bring her with you?” she asked.
“Well, she’s not comfortable with me yet,” Ansh replied softly. “But I’ll let her meet you soon. Until then, please take care of yourself.”
He stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I have to go now. You rest, okay?”
“When will you come again?” she asked, her voice trembling a little.
“Very soon,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat with a faint smile before turning toward the door.
As he walked down the hallway, his steps slowed. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement — a woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties, stumbling through the corridor. Her saree was disheveled, pallu dragging behind as if she’d been running for her life.
Her eyes met his — wide, terrified. For a moment, she froze. Then, as her breathing grew heavy, she clutched her saree close, trying to hide the bruises on her neck and waist. Blood traced the corner of her lips; red marks burned across her skin — signs of violence and cruelty.
Ansh’s eyes flickered for a second, unreadable. He looked at her — then away. Without a word, he descended the stairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the silent mansion.
……
After a while, Ansh was back in Pratap Manor. He took off his shoes, and instantly, Lily and Rocky came running, jumping all over him. He chuckled, bending down to pamper both of them before walking inside.
The hall was empty. He checked the kitchen—nobody there either. Shaking his head, he went upstairs toward his room.
It too was empty. Loosening his tie, he dropped onto the sofa, spreading his legs, head resting back as he closed his eyes for a moment of silence.
After a few minutes of rest, he got up and went to the washroom. When he came back and opened the wardrobe, his gaze fell upon Devika’s clothes. His hand instinctively reached out, brushing the fabric—and then his cheek. His face flushed red, glowing softly in the dim light.
He picked out his lower, changed quickly, and turned toward the mirror. His eyes found the little things Devika had left behind—the comb, the clips, her perfume bottle.
A smile curved his lips. He picked up her comb and ran it through his hair, gently, as if she were the one touching him. After a last look at himself, he went to the balcony.
The weather was cloudy; the moon was hiding behind the thick veil of clouds. He lit a cigar, taking long, slow drags, exhaling into the night. Time passed, smoke swirled, but the moon never came out. His restlessness grew; his heartbeat wasn’t in sync with his body anymore—it was somewhere far away, where she was.
Finally, he threw the cigar aside, irritation and anxiety swirling in his chest. He went to bed, closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come. He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling, lost. Minutes, maybe hours passed—he didn’t know.
And then he stood up suddenly. His footsteps echoed through the hall as he crossed to another room.
He knocked once. No answer. Then again—harder. And then he began beating the door, loud enough to shake the hinges.
“Aa raha hoon! Arre bas kar, aa raha hoon!” came a sleepy shout from inside. But Ansh didn’t stop.
Finally, the door swung open with a loud thud, revealing Aryan’s irritated, half-asleep face.
“Su che a, mara bhai? Darwaza todne ka iraada hai kya?”
“ Mujhe meri biwi chahiye, mujhe usse milna hai ,” Ansh declared, voice firm and eyes burning with sleeplessness.
Aryan blinked, yawning. “Thik che. Ane paanch din baad mil lena.”
“No. I want to meet her right now. I can’t sleep without her.”
“Then come sleep with me,” Aryan mumbled, scratching his head.
“You’re not my wife.” ansh shot back instantly
“So what do you want me to do with your freaking wish in the middle of the night? Have you seen the time? It’s 1:30 a.m.!” Aryan snapped, pointing at the clock.
“Get ready. We’re leaving for Manoharpur. Right now.”
“Pagal ho gaya hai kya? I’m not going anywhere! First you ruin my sleep, and now you want a road trip? Chal, aa so ja,” Aryan said, trying to pull him inside.
But Ansh didn’t move an inch. He stood there like a stubborn child, face unreadable.
“I’m not joking, bhai,” he said, voice low and serious. “You’re coming with me. I want my wife as soon as possible.”
And without another word, Ansh turned and walked away, his long steps echoing through the dark corridor like a man possessed by love itself.
Meanwhile behind him, poor aryan was standing like a laachar aadmi who can't do anything instead of listening him, his face was like if someone give him a hug he will surely start crying complaining about his brother,
______________________________
Okay so guys, how are you? I hope you all are fine and doing well, I am also fine, exams are over, still practicals and vivas are pending but I don't care cause they're my bayan haath ka khel 😁😁…
Okay so I am gonna reveal something, this is not my first book ever in wattpad, I had wrote a book with 13 chapters a year ago in 2024 named “melted by her “, and it had gained 60k+reads with 5k+votes ,it was also a decent story like this,
but but but deleted it coz I wasn't able to write more chapter, actually i was not understanding ki aage likhoo kya, I don't know baaki ke authors kaise hafte bhar mein 2, 4 chapter de dete hai
Regarding big authors who are skilled I can understand they're able to give extra chapters but being newbie, well I don't know how they give it
So come to the point I was facing the same situation again, I thought i will not right anything but I want to write, it's not about happy or affection but it's my passion,
I don't have a dream of becoming an author, I am just writing because I feel lonely, doesn't have many friends, also I am nervous to anyone, but after reading other stories and reading the comments I found that the relation between an author or reader is like a family, they relate their stories to their own life,
I have also got a family, readers like you who supports me, tell me about my mistakes, corrects me, read my stuppid life stories ab finds fun in them,
Having such family is so lucky, I am so lucky,
So I also told my mumma about it, that I am writing a story, and I am now not able to think that aage kya hoga ya kaise aage badhaoon apni story ko..
She asked in which theme are you writing, I said I am writing about a dog, hihihhi I can't tell her that I am writing about romance and marriage..
So she told me, be real , you should write what you, what you imagine, and the main thing if you want to relate with readers then give your soul to it, like love your work, give yourself to your work..
And then I wrote this whole chapter today,
And you know my mumma isn't that literate , like old generation , she failed in her 10th and my nanu married her to my papa who is 7 years older than her saying you're not able to study more,
Still my mother have all solutions of my problems and I am glad that my father is so good, that he actually respects me love me and the main thing my parents told me, “beta jitna padhna hai padho, bhagwan kare tumhare saare sapne poore ho , we are always with you and your decisions",
So itna hi and radhe radhe,
Will update soon…
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