The carriage rumbled along the winding road, the familiar landscape of her childhood home receding slowly in the distance. Arati's heart felt heavy, but also strangely light, as though her body had been uprooted and placed in an unfamiliar garden. She had been a part of the world she was leaving behind for eighteen years. But now, she was entering a new world, a new life—a life that had begun before her, that she was only just stepping into.

When the carriage finally stopped, Arati hesitated before stepping out. Rishi's house loomed before her—larger than she had imagined, with its tall, imposing windows and long, ornate columns. She could almost feel the weight of it, the generations of history held in its walls, and a pang of uncertainty gripped her. Was she ready for this?

She straightened her spine and stepped down from the carriage, trying to suppress the feeling of awe that threatened to overtake her. The marble floors shone brightly in the soft afternoon light, and the scent of fresh flowers filled the air as she walked through the entryway, past the intricate carvings and expensive decorations. This was nothing like the cozy, modest house she had grown up in. Her heart raced, and her mind scrambled for words she could not find.

A group of women, some older, some about her age, gathered around her, eyeing her with curiosity. They made polite comments, though they lacked the warmth she had been hoping for.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?", one of them said, looking Arati up and down, her eyes lingering on Arati's complexion.

"She is," another woman added, "though... a little dark."

The words stung more than Arati had expected, but she kept her face neutral, her hands clutching her pallu tightly. She knew these women were not unkind, but their backhanded compliments made her feel small, as though she were being assessed, measured against some ideal. She forced a polite smile and nodded in response, but the compliment felt hollow against her skin.

A voice behind her cut through the air.

"She's just like Rishi, isn't she?", a woman added, her tone seemingly trying to soften the previous comment, "Graceful, but with her own character."

Arati's cheeks flushed, but she remained silent. What could she say? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the praise; it was just that it felt distant, like a performance she wasn't quite prepared for.

She followed them up a grand staircase, their voices fading into the distance as they led her to a room at the end of a long hallway. When they pushed open the door, Arati blinked in surprise. It was an enormous room, and her first impression was one of warmth, rich with colors and decorations. Soft, fragrant flowers adorned the walls, and sunlight streamed through large windows, casting the room in a golden hue. A large, ornate bed sat in the middle, its heavy quilted cover lined with delicate floral patterns.

Her eyes scanned the room quickly, and her stomach churned with discomfort. This place was too grand, too unfamiliar. The bed seemed too large for her alone, and the entire room felt overwhelming. She wondered how many women had walked into this same room, taken a seat on this same bed. What had their lives been like, living in this house? Had they felt the same fear, the same loneliness?

The women settled her on the bed and instructed her to stay there while they prepared for the next round of celebrations. They draped her pallu over her head and arranged it carefully, covering her face completely. For a long moment, Arati sat in the stillness of the room, her mind racing. She had expected change, but not this degree of it. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to behave in a room like this, where every corner seemed to be adorned with the expectations of others, with the weight of tradition?

She sat there, quietly observing the sounds coming from outside the room—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the music, and the occasional burst of conversation. Her fingers nervously brushed the edges of the saree. She couldn't help but feel a deep yearning to see what was happening beyond the walls of her new world.

Her curiosity won out. Tentatively, she lifted the veil from her face, just enough to peer through the fabric.

But in the next instant, a group of laughing boys burst into the room, pushing Rishi ahead of them.

Caught off guard, Arati hastily pulled the veil back down. Her heart skipped a beat when the fabric got stuck on one of her bangles. She tugged, but it wouldn't come free, and in that moment of confusion, she felt a sudden presence behind her.

Rishi stepped into the room, looking both amused and concerned. Without a word, he approached her, his hands gentle as he expertly untangled the veil from her bangle. His touch was light, almost unnoticeable, and the veil was free in a matter of seconds.

"You seem uncomfortable in all of this," he said quietly, his voice low. His eyes flickered down to her heavy saree and the ornate jewelry that adorned her neck, her wrists, her ankles—so much weight on her small frame. 

"Would you like to change?"

Arati hesitated. Her cheeks flushed with the discomfort of her own unease. She had always been a little shy when it came to asking for help, and the thought of having Rishi stand by while she undressed, even if he was her husband now, made her feel strangely vulnerable.

But Rishi seemed to sense her hesitation. He smiled, a reassuring, kind smile that warmed her more than the afternoon sunlight. 

"I can wait outside," he added, his voice gentle, "I'll give you some privacy."

Arati felt a pang of guilt. She didn't want to trouble him. But at the same time, a deep relief washed over her, and she nodded. 

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As he stepped outside, Arati moved quickly, shedding the heavy layers of her wedding clothes. The saree was beautiful, but it was far too weighty for her to wear any longer. The jewelry, too, felt like a thousand little weights on her skin. She felt a little lighter as she changed into something more comfortable, something that allowed her to breathe.

She stood for a moment in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Was she really ready for this? For the woman she was becoming? For this house? This life?

When she finished, she called for him to come back in. Rishi reentered, his face still unreadable, but when his eyes fell on her, he smiled faintly, a smile that seemed to soften the air between them.

Arati was folding her saree neatly, though she still wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Rishi watched her for a moment, before offering help. 

"I can assist with that," he said, stepping forward.

Arati's brow furrowed slightly, "Are you sure? I—"

"I'm certain," he replied, walking toward her, "It's no trouble."

But when Rishi bent to take the saree, he somehow tripped, his foot tangling in the folds of the fabric, sending him sprawling to the floor.

For a moment, there was only silence. Arati stared in disbelief, her eyes wide. Then, despite herself, she giggled.

She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, feeling embarrassed for laughing, but Rishi only looked up at her with mock indignation, though his lips quirked into a smile.

"I meant to do that," he said, his tone playful, though there was an edge of good-natured teasing in his voice.

Arati bit her lip to stop herself from laughing again, but the warmth of the moment lingered. She gently reached down, taking the saree from him, and said softly, 

"You should go freshen up while I finish this. It's not much, but it's better that you handle the other tasks."

Rishi nodded, standing up and brushing himself off with a sheepish smile,

"I'll leave it to you then."

As he stepped into the hallway, Arati turned back to the saree. It wasn't just the fabric that she was folding, but the start of her new life, piece by piece, as she slowly learned how to fit herself into this strange world that had so quickly become her own.

That night, after the sounds of the celebration had died down, the room fell into a quiet stillness. Arati lay on the extreme edge of the bed, her back turned to Rishi. Her eyes were closed, though sleep didn't come easily. She could feel the stiffness of the bed, the distance between herself and Rishi, even though they were both physically so close.

For a long while, there was nothing but silence, the soft rustle of the evening breeze filling the room. Then, Rishi spoke her name, his voice low and gentle.

"Arati."

She hummed in response, unsure of what to say. It felt strange to respond, to acknowledge that they were no longer strangers, but still not quite familiar.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice soft, but filled with something more—perhaps reassurance, perhaps a hint of kindness that stretched beyond words.

Arati's heart fluttered. She smiled to herself, though she wasn't sure he could see it. The room was dark, and their distance felt like the spaces between stars—vast, yet somehow close.

And in that moment, the silence between them felt a little less foreign. A little more like the beginning of something she had yet to fully understand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first rays of dawn peeked through the window, painting the room with a soft, golden glow. Arati stirred from her sleep, the warmth of the covers pulling her back into the comfort of slumber. But then the memories of last night came flooding back—the unfamiliar room, the silence between her and Rishi, the coldness of this new life she had only just stepped into. She knew she could not sleep any longer.

Her mother had always taught her to wake early, to prepare for the day before the world around her stirred. 

"A woman's day should start before the sun rises," her mother used to say, "This is the time when the world is still at rest. You will find peace in it, in silence, before the noise of the world gets in the way."

So, Arati rose, quietly slipping out of bed, careful not to disturb Rishi. She moved with grace, as though the stillness of the morning had already become a part of her.

The house was silent. No one else was awake yet. The courtyard outside the window was still bathed in that early morning fog, the air crisp and fresh. The sounds of the world hadn't yet filled the air—no clattering of utensils, no footsteps, no voices. Only the gentle breeze that swirled through the courtyard, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine and the earthy smell of dew.

Arati made her way to the kitchen, her feet soft against the cold marble floors. The servants would not be awake for another hour, and it gave her a rare moment of solitude. She had already been taught the basics of the household's rhythm, though everything felt new to her. The kitchen smelled like warm spices and fresh vegetables, the kind of scent that made her feel like she was in her own little world.

Her hands moved naturally, as though she had been cooking in this kitchen all her life. She boiled the water, added the tea leaves, and prepared the milk, her thoughts drifting like the steam rising from the kettle. The task was simple, but it allowed her to focus, to find peace before the world outside would demand her attention.

Once the tea was ready, she poured a cup for herself and set the rest on the stove to stay warm. Her fingers trembled slightly, though not from fear—just the quiet excitement of a new day. She took her cup in hand and stepped out into the open courtyard.

The morning mist clung to the stone and the flowers in the garden seemed to tremble in the cool air. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for the sun to fully rise. Arati leaned over the railing, gazing down at the empty courtyard below, a quiet smile playing at the edges of her lips. Winter was near—she could feel it in the air.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She turned and saw her mother-in-law emerging from her room. As usual, her figure was poised, her saree elegant, even in the early morning light. Arati lowered her gaze instinctively and touched her feet, a sign of respect she had quickly learned was essential in this house.

"Good morning, Arati," her mother-in-law said in her usual soft, reserved manner, laying a hand on her head in blessing.

Arati smiled up at her, her heart beating a little faster, "Good morning, Ma."

"Come," her mother-in-law gestured, "Let us pray together."

Arati followed her into the small prayer room, her thoughts still lingering on the vastness of the house. As she watched her mother-in-law kneel by the altar, her hands folded in reverence, Arati took a moment to center herself, closing her eyes and offering her silent prayers. The shankh sounded through the room, its resonant echo filling the space. When it ended, her mother-in-law turned to her, eyes glinting with a quiet wisdom.

Without a word, she untied a bundle of keys from her saree and handed them to Arati.

"Arati, these are the keys to the house. This place is now yours to look after, my dear. I am glad to finally have a rest."

The weight of the keys felt heavy in Arati's hand, more than the brass and metal. It was the weight of responsibility—of an entire household, a family, a life she had to learn to navigate.

Arati's fingers tightened around the keys. She hadn't expected this. She had assumed, like many young brides, that she would have time to settle into her new role. But it seemed that her responsibilities were already upon her. The weight of the keys felt heavy in her hand, a tangible reminder that her life had irrevocably changed.

Her mother-in-law watched her, her face unreadable.

"Don't worry," she said after a long pause, "You will learn. And if you ever need guidance, you will find me here."

Arati nodded, though she felt the weight of the words more than the keys themselves. The house was now her responsibility. She had to make this place her home. It was a daunting thought.

Just then, they heard a voice calling from the other side of the house.

"Arati, the tea!", her father-in-law's deep voice echoed from the hallway.

Arati's heart quickened as she nodded. 

"Coming, Baba," she murmured.

She hurried back to the kitchen, pouring two cups of tea and bringing them to her in-laws, who were already seated in the small courtyard just outside the living room. They hummed in satisfaction after the first sip, exchanging quiet words, but then her mother-in-law turned to her and said, 

"Go wake Rishi. The day has begun."

Arati felt her chest tighten at the thought. Go wake Rishi. The words felt so formal, and yet they were her duty now. She nodded silently, and made her way back upstairs, feeling both nervous and determined.

When she entered their room, Rishi was still fast asleep, his face calm and unbothered by the early hour. She stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, unsure of how to wake him. Finally, she pulled back the curtains, letting the warm light flood the room. The soft glow of the morning was enough to stir him.

Rishi squinted at the light, then blinked at her through half-lidded eyes. 

"Hmm? What is it?", his voice was thick with sleep, still groggy.

"Good morning," Arati said softly, trying not to feel awkward.

Rishi sat up, stretching with a lazy yawn. His tousled hair and sleepy eyes gave him a boyish charm. 

"Good morning, Arati," he mumbled, rubbing his face.

Her heart fluttered at the sound of her name in his voice.

She turned to leave and hurried to the kitchen to get him his tea. By the time she returned, he was already seated in the living room, reading a newspaper with a quiet air of composure.

The house, it seemed, was waking up slowly. Arati set the cup down beside him on the low table.

Just then, a young maid came bustling in, her arms full of towels and cleaning supplies. Arati blinked in surprise, noting the girl was even younger than her. She had a vibrant energy that Arati immediately found charming.

"This is Debi," her mother-in-law said, introducing the maid. "She'll help you with anything you need in the kitchen. Debi, show Arati around."

Debi smiled widely, and despite the formal introduction, her easy manner made Arati feel at ease. 

"Come, didi," she said with a mischievous grin, "I will show you where everything is."

Together, they made their way to the kitchen. She was a whirlwind of activity, rummaging through cabinets, pulling out spices and ingredients with the kind of ease that made Arati laugh. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon enough, Arati was eager to make a big breakfast.

"I'll make luchi and aloor dom," Arati voiced out her decision, "But... the sweet? I'm not sure I'm very good at it."

"You'll do fine!," Debi encouraged, giving her a wink, "I'll help you."

Arati had felt an odd sense of pride as she prepared the meal, an effort to make herself a part of this household, to prove that she could contribute in ways other than simply being a wife. The house, with its sprawling rooms and towering walls, sometimes felt like an intimidating fortress. But in the kitchen, there was a small sense of control. Here, she could shape something tangible—food, a simple offering of care.

She couldn't help but feel a little more at ease with Debi, the young maid who had become her guide in the kitchen. She had an easy energy about her, a brightness that was infectious. She was younger than Arati, but she spoke with the confidence of someone who had seen and done a lot. There was something in the way Debi moved around the kitchen, humming as she worked, that made Arati feel like they were old friends. And though she was in a lower station, she didn't treat Arati with the typical formality that the other servants did.

"You're good at this, didi," Debi said with a grin as Arati fumbled with the rolling pin, trying to make perfect luchis, "Look at you, making luchis like you've been doing it all your life!"

Arati flushed, her hands still unsteady, "I've made luchis before, but not like this. Your hands... they're so quick."

Debi laughed, her face brightening, "You'll get there, didi. Just need a little practice. Besides, it's fun when we make it together."

Arati's heart warmed at the compliment. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who didn't treat her like she was still figuring out how to wear her saree or be a good wife. Debi's easy nature made her feel a little less out of place.

The kitchen buzzed with the smell of frying luchis, spicy aloor dom bubbling away on the stove, and the faint sweetness of halwa that Arati had bravely attempted. Debi had suggested a bit more ghee, a pinch of cardamom, and her halwa was starting to smell better than she expected.

As they finished preparing the meal, the young maid took one last look at the table, "This is going to be a feast, didi! Look at this—so many things! I think they will all be impressed."

Arati smiled, though there was a little knot in her stomach. "I really do hope they like it too."

Debi gave her a wink, "Trust me. You made it with your own hands. That's the best part."

Together, they arranged the food on the table. The family slowly gathered around, with Arati feeling a little shy, standing off to the side as Rishi, his parents, and the servants helped themselves. She could hear the hum of approval as the luchis were devoured with relish, and the spicy aloor dom was praised for its rich flavor. But it was when the halwa came out that Arati felt the full weight of anticipation.

Her eyes flickered nervously to Rishi as she set the bowl of halwa in front of him, her heart thumping in her chest. He picked up the spoon, his gaze flickering between her and the dish. She bit her lip, her hands clasped tight together, waiting.

Rishi took a spoonful, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes darted to his parents, who were still chewing their food. There was a strange moment of stillness. And then, his expression softened, almost as though he were savoring the taste. For a moment, Arati thought he might say something, but he didn't. He simply closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the sweetness, and then... without saying a word, he took the entire bowl from her hands.

Arati blinked, surprised. 

His parents looked up, eyebrows raised. 

"Rishi, what are you doing?" his father asked, laughing, "Leave some for us!"

Rishi didn't respond. He just took the bowl, holding it close to his chest as if it were a precious treasure, and walked off toward the study, a silent smile playing on his lips. His mother shook her head, bemused, but the sound of her soft laughter filled the air.

Arati stood still for a moment, her chest tight. Was it really that good? She hadn't expected Rishi to react so... unexpectedly. Most men, at least those she had known before, wouldn't have done something like that, not without some joking or teasing. But Rishi? He had simply taken the bowl and walked off, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Her mother-in-law caught her eye and smiled knowingly, "Don't worry, Arati. He is protective of what he likes."

Arati nodded, though she couldn't shake the feeling that something more was there. Was it really just the halwa, or something else?

The rest of the morning passed in a quiet daze. After the meal, Rishi retreated into his study, and Arati was left with her in-laws. They were kind but distant, talking amongst themselves about household matters. Arati wanted to help, but there was nothing to be done. Debi was busy cleaning up, and the other servants moved quietly around the house.

With nothing to do, Arati decided to take a walk around the property, hoping to clear her mind. She was still adjusting to the house, to the weight of it all, and sometimes it felt like the walls were closing in. Her feet took her through the gardens, to a small pond that she had noticed the night before. It was peaceful here—quiet, secluded. The perfect place for thoughts to wander.

She sat by the edge of the pond, her legs crossed under her, watching the water glimmer in the soft light. The air was cool, and the garden was filled with the fragrance of flowers that had just begun to bloom in the early winter. She took a deep breath, letting the stillness of the place fill her.

Then, with a mischievous grin, she pretended to hold a camera, her fingers forming an imaginary lens. 

"Okay, everyone! Action!", she said, raising her voice and pretending to direct a film, just like the one she'd watched with Rishi.

She strutted around, giving orders to invisible actors, telling them to move left, right, to look sad or happy, depending on the imaginary scene. For a moment, she was free of all the worries and expectations that weighed on her. She was simply a girl in a beautiful garden, pretending to be a director.

It was fun, exhilarating, and for a brief moment, Arati felt like she was herself again.

But then, a voice called her name.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned around quickly, standing up straight like a schoolgirl caught in a misstep. There, leaning casually against a stone pillar, was Rishi. His dark eyes were fixed on her, his hand holding a cigarette with a calm nonchalance, his other hand tucked into his pants pocket.

Arati blushed, unsure how to act. 

"Yes, sir?", she stammered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Her breath caught in her throat. Why did he have to find me here?

Rishi gave her a slow, amused smile. 

"I didn't realize I had a director on my hands," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Arati was flustered. 

"I was just... pretending. Like a scene from a movie," she stammered.

"I see," he said, his smile softening as he stepped closer, "Do you like it here, Arati?" 

His tone was serious now, no longer playful.

Arati nodded, though her throat felt tight, "Yes... I do. Very much."

Rishi gave her a thoughtful look, then gestured to the bench nearby, "Come sit with me for a moment."

Arati hesitated but then walked over, taking a seat beside him. The cool morning air felt alive with their quiet conversation. Rishi exhaled a plume of smoke from his cigarette before speaking again.

"So," he began, "I was thinking... would you like to watch another film with me? Something... nice. We could pick it together."

The mention of a movie made Arati's eyes light up. "Really?" she asked, her voice betraying her excitement.

Rishi chuckled softly. "Yes, really. You liked it the last time right?"

"I love it," she said with a shy smile, 

Rishi's smile softened, a secret understanding passing between them. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow drag from his cigarette and let it out in a languid breath.

Arati hesitated before asking, almost shyly, "About the halwa..... was it really that good?"

Rishi's gaze flickered to her. There was a quiet smile on his lips, but he didn't answer her immediately. Instead, there was a pause—a small, secret moment that passed between them. Something unspoken lingered in the air.

Finally, he simply nodded, his smile deepening, "It was... perfect, Arati."

A flush crept up her neck as their eyes met. There was something warm in the silence that followed, something that made Arati's heart beat just a little faster, as though she had been given some unspoken approval.

And for that moment, Arati knew that perhaps this strange, new life of hers wasn't so impossible after all.