Kabir did not even realize when his legs began moving. His chest felt tight, his thoughts loud, his breath uneven. He walked straight toward the sitting room.

“Dadi,” his voice cut through the air, steady but burning, “what am I hearing?”

Kaushalya turned, and instead of surprise, a bright smile touched her face. “So you heard,” she said with calm delight. “Good. Come, Kabir. I was waiting for you to tell……”

Right then, Harjit also stepped inside behind him, dust still on his kurta from the fields.

“Harjit,” Kaushalya said warmly the moment her eyes caught her son coming inside, “come quickly. I have wonderful news for you.”

Amrita spoke gently, almost shyly, “Beeji, he had not officially agreed yet. He only said they will think.”

Kaushalya lifted her chin slightly. “He will agree. Consider this proposal almost final.”

Harjit frowned a little. “Who are you talking about, Bee ji?”

Kaushalya replied clearly, without hesitation, “I have asked for Jagir Singh Sandhu’s daughter Meher’s hand for Kabir.”

Before Harjit could react, Kabir’s voice came out sharp and firm. “I will not marry Meher.”

Silence wrapped around the room and Kaushalya’s soft expression vanished. Her voice turned strong with matriarchal authority.

“Kabir,” she said clearly, “I do not wish to scratch open your past again. But after that betrayal, you yourself told me that I may choose a girl for you and that you would agree with my choice this time and I have chosen Meher.”

She continued firmly.

“She is a good girl. Educated. Ambitious, yet respectful and grounded. What more do we need? I only want one thing. Your wife must take care of you, even if she does not care for our respect or our home. You live so far away. You work yourself into the ground. At least your wife should stand beside you.”

She softened a little.

“And I know Meher will do that. Not only will she respect our family as her own, she will take care of you in a way no one else has. My decision stands if Jagir Singh agrees.”

She did not wait for him to answer. She simply turned and walked away, not giving Kabir a second chance to refuse.

“Harjit, come with me,” she said calmly. “I need to speak to you privately.”

Harjit followed her silently to her room. The moment the door closed, worry crept into his voice. “Beeji… why Jagir’s daughter? She is…”

Kaushalya interrupted at once. “She is what? From a smaller status than us?” Her tone held quiet strength. “Do not forget, Harjit. We were not born into this status. We built it. And Jagir may not be rich in money, but he is rich in values. And that is what we need for Kabir. A girl from a respectable home.”

Harjit sighed. “That is not what I meant. I am only worried because she is younger than Kabir.”

“Six or seven years is nothing,” Kaushalya replied instantly. “And do not forget, the difference between our son in law and our daughter is nearly the same.”

“But they loved each other.” Harjit said softly.

“And I never had a problem with Kabir’s choice either,” Kaushalya replied. “As long as that girl had stood by my boy. But she didn't.” Her voice trembled slightly but she steadied herself. “I will not let his life remain empty because of a cowardly past.”

Outside, Kabir stood staring at his mother, refusing to get married to Meher.

Amrita walked closer, her eyes full of pain. “Kabir… why do you not want to marry?” she asked gently. “Simran has already moved on with her life. Why are you still standing in the same place? We want to see you happy too, beta.”

As always, at the mention of Simran, his words died in his throat. He swallowed hard.

Meanwhile, Amrita kept trying to make him understand, “Please, my child, move on. For us. We want to see you happy in your life, not alone like this.”

“I will marry anyone,” he finally said in a strained voice. “But not Meher.”

Amrita sighed softly as she thought she understood his reason, “You are saying this because she is Mehek’s friend, right? And yes, there is an age difference too. But son, age is just a number. Meher is more mature than our Mehek in many ways.” She placed her hand gently on his arm. “Trust your Dadi.”

Kabir let out a bitter exhale. “I did trust her once. Remember? That girl already loved someone else. But nobody tried to understand that. If I had married Prachi only because Dadi and her grandmother wanted it, she would never have been happy and neither would I.” His voice broke with buried pain. “She would have spent her whole life suffocating.”

Amrita shook her head gently. “This time nothing like that will happen. Your Dadi and I have both spoken to Mehek about this and there is no one in Meher's life. And Meher has always been focused on her studies and career, so we know there is no one in her life.” She looked at him with pleading love. “Please trust us. We only want your happiness.”

And she walked away slowly, leaving Kabir standing there. Torn. Silent. Trapped between duty, pain, and a destiny he did not want to accept.

And somewhere in the stillness of the haveli, the future waited patiently… watching everything unfold.

That night the family gathered around the large dining table for dinner, the aroma of fresh rotis, dal, and sabzi filling the haveli.

Kaushalya looked around the table, her sharp eyes scanning each face. She noticed the empty chair where Kabir usually sat.

“Where is Kabir?” she asked Amrita quietly, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

Amrita sighed softly, placing a spoon back on her plate. “He left in the evening itself, Bee ji. He has not come back yet. His phone is also not being answered.”

Kaushalya’s brows furrowed. She turned to Harjit, who was serving himself. “Harjit, call Balraj and ask him.”

Harjit nodded immediately, wiping his hands before pulling out his phone. He dialed the number and waited as it rang.

In another part of the city, Balraj was lost in a tender moment with Mehek, his arms around her as they whispered and laughed softly on the bed.

The soft amber glow of the bedside lamp spilled across the room, casting warm shadows over the rumpled sheets. Mehek lay curled against Balraj on their bed, her head nestled on his chest, fingers lazily tracing lazy hearts over the soft cotton of his kurta. The house was hushed, wrapped in that rare, delicious quiet that felt like it belonged only to them.

Balraj tilted her chin up with a gentle thumb, his dark eyes playful and tender. “Mrs. Balraj Singh,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to forget the rest of the world exists.”

Mehek’s lips curved into a shy, knowing smile, a faint blush warming her cheeks even after all these months of marriage. “Good,” she whispered, shifting closer until their foreheads touched. “Because right now, I only want you.”

His breath caught, just slightly and then the next moment he was kissing her, slow and sweet at first, lips brushing hers like a promise. But the tenderness quickly melted into something deeper, hungrier.

Mehek’s hands slid up his neck, fingers threading into his hair as she pulled him closer, parting her lips beneath his. He groaned softly against her mouth, the sound vibrating through her, and rolled them gently until he hovered over her, one strong arm braced beside her head.

“Balraj…” she breathed, arching into him as his lips left hers to trail hot, deliberate kisses down the sensitive curve of her neck. Her legs wrapped loosely around his hips, pulling him flush against her, and he pressed closer with a low, needy sound that made her heart stutter.

His hands slipped under the hem of her kameez, palms warm and sure against the bare skin of her waist.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered huskily, nipping gently at her collarbone before capturing her lips again in a kiss that was all heat and longing.

Clothes shifted, buttons undone, fabric pushed aside until there was only the delicious friction of skin on skin, breaths mingling, hearts racing in perfect rhythm.

Mehek’s fingers dug gently into his shoulders, a soft whimper escaping her when his mouth found that spot just below her ear that always made her melt.

He smiled against her skin, murmuring her name like a prayer, and she laughed breathlessly, the sound bright and fond even in the haze of desire.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, eyes shining with something impossibly soft. “More than yesterday. Less than tomorrow.”

She grinned, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “You say that every night.”

“And I’ll say it every night,” he promised, stealing a quick, playful kiss, “until you’re utterly sick of it.”

“Never,” she whispered, tugging him back down into another slow, sweet kiss that quickly turned heated again.

They were completely lost, tangled together, breathless and wanting, the world narrowed to just the two of them when his phone buzzed loudly on the bedside table, vibrating insistently like it had a personal grudge.

Balraj froze mid-kiss, a frustrated groan rumbling in his chest as he dropped his head to her shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mehek let out a soft, giggling laugh, even as her body still hummed with need. “Ignore it,” she murmured, trying to pull him back.

It buzzed again. And again.

He lifted his head, glaring at the glowing screen, then sighed dramatically when he saw the caller ID. “It’s your father.”

The spell broke in the most comical way possible. Balraj flopped onto his back beside her with a defeated huff, dragging a hand over his face while Mehek pulled the sheet up, biting her lip to stifle her laughter at his utterly miserable expression.

He reached for the phone with one hand and for her with the other, lacing their fingers together tightly.

“Sat sri akal, Papa ji,” he answered, voice suddenly polite and composed though the way he squeezed Mehek’s hand and shot her a playful, suffering look told a very different story.

She pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle her giggles, tracing lazy circles on his chest again as he tried valiantly to focus on the call. Every so often, he’d glance down at her, eyes warm and promising, as if to say: This isn’t over.

Harjit smiled faintly on the other side of the call at the warmth in his son-in-law’s voice. “Sat sri akal, beta. God bless you. Tell me, are you with Kabir right now?”

Balraj blinked in surprise. “No, Papa ji. I was at home. Has something happened?”

Harjit’s tone grew worried. “He is not picking up his phone. He left in the evening and has not returned. We thought he must be with you...”

Balraj reassured him quickly. “Do not worry at all, Papa ji. I will check. He must be sitting with friends at the motor (“motor” = the electric pump that pulls water from the ground for farming and men usually gather there for drinks).”

As soon as Harjit ended the call, Balraj turned to Mehek with a playful pout. “This brother of yours who is my salaa (brother-in-law) as well, but he is the biggest enemy of my romance.”

Mehek laughed lightly, her eyes sparkling. “He was your best friend first.”

Balraj sighed dramatically, standing up and picking up his clothes from the floor. “My terrible luck is that I made this dog my best friend. Let me go see where he is and why he is not answering his phone.”

At those words, Mehek’s smile faded, replaced by worry. She caught his hand gently. “Listen, please talk to Bhai properly. He must have left the house upset.”

Balraj frowned, sitting back down beside her and asked concerned, “What happened?”

Mehek explained softly. “Dadi has proposed his marriage to Meher. Please tell him that I have no issue with it at all. If he marries my best friend, I will be so happy. And Meher truly is a very good person. He'll be happy with her. Please talk to him.”

Balraj paused for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful. No one understood the real reason behind Kabir’s refusal better than he did. Still, he leaned forward, kissed Mehek’s forehead gently, and smiled reassuringly. “Nothing like that will happen. He is not upset. He must be having a couple of drinks with friends at the motor. I will go check.”

Just as Balraj stood to leave, Mehek held his hand again, stopping him. “Fine, but please do not drink with him.”

Balraj chuckled and promised sincerely. “I will not drink. I swear.” He kissed her hand and headed out.

As expected, when Balraj reached their usual handout place, he found Kabir sitting alone on a cot under the moonlight, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him, staring into the glass.

Balraj’s mind drifted briefly to the past that everyone knew so well.

Kabir had loved Simran Sharma deeply since their school days. They had hidden their relationship for years, dreaming of a future together.

But when Simran’s family discovered it, they fiercely opposed the match because of religious differences. In the end, Simran could not stand against her family. She gave in, married someone they chose, and left Kabir heartbroken.

That teenage love, snatched away so cruelly, had taken Kabir years to overcome. He had only just begun to move forward when his engagement was fixed with Balraj’s cousin, Prachi. But Prachi was already in love with someone else. To save her honor and happiness, Kabir took all the blame upon himself and broke the engagement, letting her go.

Balraj shook off the memory and approached with a light, teasing smile, trying to ease the heavy air. “Drinking all alone? You did not even call me.”

Kabir looked up, his eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. He pushed the bottle toward him.

“Come, drink too. To my ruin. No one has luck as rotten as mine. The one I loved with all my heart refused to stand by me when the time came. Then my engagement broke because your sister loved someone else. Look, now for the third time, my Dadi is forcing someone on me. And who? The very girl because of whom I lost my Simran.”

His voice was thick with bitterness. “I hate Meher. I hate her. And now my Dadi wants to tie me to her forever.”

Balraj gently took the bottle away from his reach. “We will talk in the morning when you are sober.”

Kabir shook his head stubbornly. “I am sober. Completely sober. I have not drunk that much.”

Balraj rolled his eyes. “Then Salee Kutte (You dog), who told you to play the great savior and break the engagement? I wouldn't have made Prachi marry that Dev anyway. I never liked him. You forced me to say yes to their relationship.”

Kabir scoffed, his laugh hollow. “And we would have spent our whole lives compromising, right? My love was taken from me. Why should I stand in the way of someone else’s love? Is it a revenge drama going on here that if I can't have the love of my life then I won't let anyone have their?” He asked.

“When Simran did not have the courage to accept me in front of her family. But when someone else was showing the strength to stand for each other, why should I come between them? Just because my love stayed incomplete due to my ex’s cowardice?”

Balraj nodded slowly. “Exactly my point, brother. Whatever happened, Meher was not at fault in any of it. None of this was her fault. You keep blaming her because it hurts less than admitting the truth. You do not want to blame Simran, because she was your first love. So you created a villain in your head.”

Kabir’s jaw tightened. “No. You are taking her side because of your wife.”

Balraj shook his head firmly. “No. You know Mehek does not even know about this matter.”

Kabir looked away. “If her family had not found out at that time……Then today we would have been together…..it was because of Meher. Everything came out before the right time because of her. That is why they separated Simran from me…..”

Balraj’s voice grew serious, cutting through the haze. “No, Kabir. Stop giving yourself this false comfort. Deep down, you know the truth. Even if Simran’s family had found out anytime, any day, they would never have agreed. Never. Simran always knew that. If she still had the courage to love you, she should have had the courage to stand by it. This was only and only Simran’s fault. The sooner you accept this, the better it will be for you and for whatever future lies ahead, even with Meher.”

Kabir did not reply. His fingers tightened around the edge of the cot, knuckles pale in the faint moonlight. The bottle now lay forgotten on the ground. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of crickets and the soft hum of the motor filled the night.

Somewhere deep inside him, the truth Balraj had spoken began to press against the walls he had built around his heart. But old wounds are stubborn. And Kabir’s were carved too deep.

He looked up at the sky, eyes burning, as if searching for an answer written among the stars. “If this is the truth,” he whispered at last, “then why does it still hurt the same way?”

Balraj placed a steady hand on his shoulder, silent, simply sitting beside him the way he always had since they were children. No advice now. No arguments. Just presence.

The night stretched on quietly around them. Two friends. One broken heart. And a future that is already shifting, whether Kabir was ready for it or not.

Far away, in another home, Meher laughed softly at something her little sister said over dinner, unaware that her name had already been spoken as someone’s destiny.

Meanwhile, Jagir watched his daughter with eyes full of worry and unconditional love. His heart was torn. He did not know whether he should seriously consider Kaushalya’s proposal or not. He could not bring himself to shatter the dreams shining in Meher’s eyes, yet at the same time, he did not have the courage to send his daughter alone to a foreign country as well.

And somewhere in between those two worlds, fate waited patiently, watching, waiting and ready to begin.