Nitya

"So, Dhritiji," I say, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. "You and Yash bhaiyya? Since when has this been going on?"

"And why did you two keep it a secret from us?" Shrutiji adds.

The three of us were resting in the living room after having lunch.

Dhritiji's face turns a bright shade of pink, and she quickly looks down at her lap, biting her lip. "It's not like we were trying to hide it. Umm, it just... happened," she mumbles.

"Oh, sure, it just happened," I tease, exchanging a quick glance with Shrutiji, who was already giggling. "You two fought like cat and dog in front of us. How were we to know what was actually happening behind our backs? You two cozying up to each other all this time."

"Stop it Bhabhi. Please," Dhritiji says, still blushing furiously.

Shrutiji nudges her playfully. "Oh, come on, don't be so shy!"

I chuckle, but then suddenly stop when I remember something. "Wait! That time when we were talking about those scratches on Bhaiyya's hand. The one which he said was done by a wild cat and you claimed it was a tigress." I gaze at Dhritiji, barely containing my laughter. "Were you the tigress that scratched him?"

Dhritiji's eyes widen, and the color in her cheeks deepen even more. She doesn't say anything, but her flustered expression says it all.

"Oh my God, it was you!" I exclaim. "And innocent me thought it was really a wild animal," I shake my head, continuing to laugh. "I was really worried for Bhaiyya and even told him to be careful and get a tetanus shot."

Dhritiji groans, trying to hide her face behind the cushion on her lap. "Enough, Bhabhi. Please."

Shrutiji also laughs, leaning back into the couch. "It's okay, Dhriti. We all have our quirks in love. Clearly you have a wild side."

"Right," I agree. "You two said Prathamji and I had kitchen friendly love. It seems Dhritiji and Bhaiyya have animal friendly love." I give Shrutiji a curious look. "I wonder what kind of love you and Namanji have."

Before Shrutiji could answer, Dhritiji blurts out, "Oh, I know. They have weapon friendly love."

The moment she says that, the room suddenly goes silent.

Shrutiji gasps, clearly shocked. "What do you mean by that?"

Dhritiji straightens up and nervously glances at Shrutiji. "Umm, there was this one time when I returned home a bit earlier than planned from London. Do you remember, Bhabhi? It was a few weeks after yours and Naman bhaiyya's marriage."

Shrutiji nods, gazing severely at Dhritiji. "You had returned about two months after mine and Naman's marriage. What about it?"

"Well, I had returned in the afternoon that day," Dhritiji says to Shrutiji. "But as I was about to enter inside, I saw you and Naman bhaiyya in the middle of the living room. You were pressing a knife to his chest, and he was pointing a gun to your head."

Hearing that, I nearly fall down from the couch, barely holding on. "What?" I whisper in disbelief.

Dhritiji nods and, still looking at Shrutiji, she continues, "I was about to scream then, not wanting either of you to get harmed, but then Pratham bhaiyya stopped me and pulled me aside. He wasn't even panicking like I was. He only told me to go to one of my friends' house in the village for a bit and return later in the evening. I tried to ask him what was going on, but he didn't tell me anything other than to go from there. So, I did. And when I returned later, you both were fine, alive, and acting completely normal. So, I just assumed it was just.... your way of loving each other."

Shrutiji pales, her eyes wide as she absorbs Dhritiji's words. "Pratham knew since then?" She whispers, more to herself than to us. She then clutches Dhritiji's arms, shaking her slightly. "Does... does anyone else know about this?"

Dhritiji quickly shakes her head, looking a bit scared. "No, Bhabhi. I never told anyone. It seemed like a private thing between you and Bhaiyya, so I didn't talk about it with anyone else. If it's the kind of love you and Bhaiyya have, who am I to judge you or let anyone else get privy to it?"

"Dhritji is right," I softly add, still in shock, but trying to put myself together. "Everyone has their own way of expressing love."

"It's... it's not what you two think," Shrutiji mutters, shaking her head slightly. "There's more to what happened that day, and it's not what you two are imagining."

Dhritji still looks nervous, her eyes darting between Shrutiji and me, clearly regretting bringing that day up. "I really didn't mean to witness it," she stammers, her voice shaky. "I... It was an accident."

I also glance nervously at Shrutiji, gulping and finding my mouth has gone dry due to the chilling look on her face. "I, umm, Dhritji and I will never bring it up again, and won't ever talk about it."

To my surprise, Shrutiji suddenly laughs. "Oh, come on. Don't be scared of me." she says, giving us both a reassuring look. "I don't ever hurt people who are dear to me. And you two are like sisters to me."

I let out a small breath of relief, and Dhritiji also visibly relaxes.

But then, after a moment, she asks, "What about the people you hate, Bhabhi? Do you... do you harm them? In a serious way?"

Shrutiji's smile widens at the question, and seeing it, a shiver runs through me, because there is something chilling about that smile of hers. "It's not that simple," she says. "If I harmed every single person I hated, Maaji and Chachiji would have long gone from this world by now."

At that, both Dhritiji and I gasp, staring at Shrutiji in shock. To hear her say something so dark so casually sends tremors down my spine.

When we don't say anything for a while, she continues, "It's only because of Naman that I had to stop. If not for him, I would have given those two women exactly what they deserve."

I glance at Dhritji, wondering if Shrutiji's words offended her, but I was surprised to find her look resigned.

She lets out a hollow breath and nods. "My mother is not a nice person," she says, taking a deep breath, staring blankly ahead. "She has done some horrible things, not only to you two, but also to me, her own daughter." She lets out a wry chuckle. "You two might find it hard to believe, but Taiji used to be a kind-hearted person. But she was slowly corrupted by my mother. After all, as they say 'one bad apple spoils the whole bunch'. In our family's case, it was my mother who poisoned Taiji's good heart."

"Dhritji," I gently begin, feeling a pinch in my heart as I look at her tear-filled eyes. Shrutiji also puts her hand over her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

Dhritji shakes her head and offers us a weak smile. "It's okay," she says. "I've already come to terms with it. But it's still hard to say it out loud."

"I understand it must not be easy for you," Shrutiji says, her expression softening. "But just know, as much as I hate them, I won't harm them. You don't need to be scared for them."

"I'm not," Dhritiji responds. "I really am not scared for them. I just don't want you to spoil your life by harming them."

"It might already be too late for—" Shrutiji abruptly stops when Prathamji enters the living room.

"I need to ask you a few questions, Dhriti," he says, his expression so serious as he gazes at Dhritiji that I notice her fidget nervously before standing up from the couch.

"What do you want to ask, Bhaiyya?"

"Do you think Yash is a nice person?" Prathamji asks without beating around the bush.

Dhritji nods. "Yes, I do."

"Do you have true feelings for him?" Prathamji asks the next question.

Again, without hesitation, Dhritiji answers, "Yes, I do."

Prathamji pauses, looking thoughtful for a long moment before continuing. "Does he treat you well?"

"Yes, he does," Dhritiji replies, her voice soft but steady.

The silence that follows her answer is heavy as we all wait for Prathamji to say something. Shrutiji and I glance at each other, hoping Prathamji would accept the relationship, and Dhritiji looks tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

Finally, after a while, Prathamji sighs. "It this what makes you happy, Dhriti, I'll try not to oppose it much."

Dhritji's face light up with joy, and she throw her arms around Prathamji. "Thank you for being such a good brother. For caring about my happiness," she says, her voice thick with emotions.

I smile, feeling warmth spread through my chest as I watch them. A rush of emotions toward Prathamji washes through me, seeing him swallowing his reservations for Yash bhaiyya for Dhritji's happiness.

*****

Pratham

These past few days have been a whirlwind, a kind of storm that has been difficult to navigate.

Our business is still on edge, Mahaveer becoming a constant headache. Due to me and Naman bhaiyya trying our best, the things are starting to settle, yet the pressure still is relentless.

But it isn't just that. Finding out about Dhriti's relationship with Yash had thrown me off balance too. It's only because I care about my sister and her happiness that I reluctantly agreed to aceept it. Still, I know I need to have a serious conversation with Yash. Soon.

Opening the door to my room, I step inside, only to stop short when I see Nitya standing right in the center, draped in a long shawl. Her eyes lowered and her hands clutching the shawl tightly to her chest.

"What are you doing?" I ask, curious to know.

She doesn't respond and keeps standing, letting the silence stretch between us for a few seconds.

And then, slowly, she lets the shawl fall to the floor.

The moment it slides down her body, I feel my breath catching in my throat. Because Nitya was wearing a red nighty, soft fabric clinging to her curves, exposing her slender neck, most of her chest, and her legs as it barely reached her knees.

I find myself unable to tear my eyes from her. She is a vision—beautiful, shy, yet incredibly bold at the same time.

"When, umm, when did you get this?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

Deep red creeps up her cheeks, but she doesn't hide herself. "Dhritiji and Shrutiji made me buy it when we went shopping," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. "I only bought it to stop them from pestering me and had decided I would never wear it. But after you being so considerate about Dhritiji and Yash bhaiyya, I wanted to surprise you."

Hearing her and looking at her delectable form, I feel my pulse quickening, my desires surging.

I cross the room in a few quick strides. When I reach her, my fingers find their way into her hair, and I tighten my grip just enough to draw a gasp from her.

Leaning close, I let my lips brush against her ear as I whisper, "I do owe you a rough night, don't I?"

Nitya doesn't flinch, doesn't shy away. Instead her breathing quickens as she looks at me and says, "Yes, you do."