Chapter 3

Tara stood in the hallway for a moment, her mind racing as she contemplated what to do next. Just as she was about to step forward, her mother-in-law, Swara Singhania, and sister-in-law, Avni, approached her with warm smiles.

“Would you like a tour of the house, Tara?” Swara asked gently, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to see our garden? I know how much you love gardens.”

Tara felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of exploring the garden, a space she hoped would be a refuge for her. “I would love to see the garden!” she replied enthusiastically, her heart lightening for the first time since the whirlwind of her forced marriage.

As they walked outside, Tara was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The garden was a vibrant tapestry of colors, filled with blooming roses, delicate lilies, and a variety of fragrant herbs that danced softly in the breeze. The sound of birds chirping overhead added to the serene atmosphere. Swara and Avni walked beside her, sharing laughter and stories about the flowers they had planted.

“It’s beautiful,” Tara whispered, her eyes wide with admiration. She leaned down to touch the soft petals of a nearby rose, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. It felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the tension she had felt in the house earlier.

“I’m glad you like it,” Swara said, her voice filled with pride. “Gardening has always been a passion of ours. It brings such joy and peace.”

Tara spent some beautiful moments with her mother-in-law and sister-in-law, feeling a sense of belonging that had eluded her since her parents’ death. They shared laughter, stories, and secrets, and for the first time, she felt welcomed and adored.

After some time, Swara excused herself to check on the cook for lunch, leaving Tara and Avni to chat.

“So, bhabhi,” Avni began, her voice curious, “what are your hobbies? What do you like to do?”

Tara hesitated for a moment, remembering how her uncle’s family had belittled her passions. “I love painting and journaling,” she admitted, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. “But I’ve had to keep them hidden from my uncle’s family.”

Avni’s expression softened with understanding. “You shouldn’t have to hide your talents. You can continue doing them here, freely and without fear. This is your home now, and we will support you,” she reassured Tara, who felt her heart swell with gratitude.

Just then, Tara’s phone rang. It was Nisha, her best friend. Tara hadn’t had the chance to inform her about her hurried marriage.

Seeing Avni step back to give her space, Tara answered, “Hey, Nisha!”

Nisha’s voice was filled with concern as soon as Tara picked up. “Girl, are you okay? Is your in-laws troubling you? Is your husband doing something wrong? Please tell me if he is abusing you! Don’t hide anything from me. Do you want to divorce him? I’ll help you!”

Tara couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s frantic worry. “Relax, Nisha! I’m okay. My in-laws are wonderful, and no, my husband isn’t abusing me. He’s just a bit distant, which is understandable since he lost his wife six months ago.”

Nisha sighed, relief evident in her tone. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried sick! You deserve to be happy, Tara. Do you want to meet? Let’s catch up over lunch tomorrow!”

Tara agreed, her heart warming at the thought of seeing her friend. “Yes, let’s do that! I can’t wait to fill you in.”

After hanging up, Tara felt lighter, grateful for Nisha’s love and concern.

As evening approached, Tara noticed Vikram’s wheelchair entering the house, and she decided to make coffee for him, hoping for a chance to talk. Remembering Avni’s words about Vikram’s preference for black coffee, she prepared it carefully and made her way to his personal library—a room she had been curious about since her arrival.

The library was a haven, filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with countless volumes, each a doorway to another world. A large desk sat in the center, covered with papers and a laptop, and the soft glow of a lamp cast a warm light over the space. Tara felt a pang of admiration for Vikram’s intellect as she took in the scene.

Knocking gently on the door, she heard Vikram’s voice call out, “Come in and put it there.”

Expecting a servant, he was momentarily surprised when he heard the delicate sound of her bangles. He looked up, and their eyes locked for a fleeting moment. Tara felt her pulse quicken. “Here’s your coffee,” she said, her voice slightly nervous.

Vikram frowned slightly, his tone sharp as he replied, “Who asked you to do this? Did I ask you to do this?”

Tara’s heart sank. “No, I just wanted to…,” she began, but he cut her off, his voice firm.

“You don’t need to do this,” he insisted, taking the coffee cup from her hand. “You shouldn’t have to. There are rules between us, Tara.”

His words sent a chill through her. She recalled the rules he had set, words that still echoed in her mind: Don’t mess around with my personal things. Don’t try to talk to me unless it’s important. Stay away from my past life. No intimacy. You are not allowed to even touch me. And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to act like my late wife.

The weight of his rules pressed down on her, and she nodded quietly, sadness creeping into her heart as she left his office.

As she walked back to her room, memories of their first night flooded her mind, each rule a barrier that seemed insurmountable.

Later that night, as Tara changed into her nightdress—a simple long kurti paired with soft pants—she braided her long hair, preparing for sleep. Just then, she heard the door creak open. She turned to see Vikram entering in his wheelchair, and their eyes locked for a brief moment before he averted his gaze.

Tara’s heart raced, and she felt an inexplicable pull toward him. He moved toward the bed, closing his eyes as if to shut out the world. She watched him, debating whether to sleep on the bed or the sofa. Finally, she shook her head, deciding, Why should I sleep on the sofa?

She climbed onto the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. As she settled in, a soft notification pinged on her phone. It was a message from Nisha about their lunch plans the next day, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Carefully, she glanced over at Vikram, realizing he had fallen asleep. For a fleeting moment, she reached out to touch his hair, but his rules echoed in her mind, stopping her in her tracks. You are not allowed to touch me.

Disappointment washed over her as she retracted her hand. “One day, you’ll break your own rules,” she whispered to herself, her heart hopeful despite the constraints surrounding them.