I have imagined them to be dressed like this👆👆. But if you guys didn't like then can imagine yourself.

Chapter 20

The car rolled to a halt outside the grand Rathore haveli-an architectural blend of tradition and timeless pride. Its sandstone arches shimmered under the mellow afternoon sun. Aaradhya sat still, her fingers clenched around the edge of her Odhani. The closer she got to home, the more fragile her heart felt.

Raghvendra Rathore stepped out first, straightening his kurta. Tall and commanding, yet his eyes softened the moment they landed on his daughter.

"Chal, chori," he said gently.

Meera and Pihu, her cousin sisters, flanked either side of the car, their faces brightening at the sight of her. Meera opened the door. "Welcome back, Jijisa," she teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Aaradhya offered a faint smile, grateful for the familiar voice. Arjun took her bag. "Come on, baisa. Everyone's been waiting."

As she stepped out, her eyes rose to the wide front steps of the haveli-where a gathering of her family stood waiting.

Dadisa, regal in her ivory ghaghara choli and silver hair neatly tied, stood in front, leaning slightly on her cane but holding herself with unmatched dignity. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears the moment she saw her granddaughter.

"Aaradhya..." she whispered.

Aaradhya couldn't hold back any longer. She rushed into her grandmother's arms, burying her face into her shoulder. The scent of jasmine and old sandalwood wrapped around her like a blanket of comfort.

"Bas, bas meri chori. Aagayi tu ghar," Dadisa murmured, patting her back. "Tera mayka hai yeh. Yahan koi tujhe dard nahi dega."

("You're home now, my dear. No one will hurt you here.")

Behind her grandma, the women of the house-bua-sa, chachi-saa, her babhisa(Rajveer's and Arjun's wife )and young cousins-watched silently. Even though they all knew about the things that happened at Singh Haveli still Aaradhya's return wasn't just a daughter coming home. It was the return of the haveli's laadli beti, the one who brought laughter in the halls, now weighed down by silence.

Raghvendra turned to his mother. "Ma, Aaradhya needs rest. She'll tell us everything in time."

Dadisa nodded. "Pehle uske liye kuch meetha lao. Thak gayi hogi mari chhori."

(Bring something sweet for my daughter , she must be very tired)

Soon Aaradhya was led inside with her hand firmly wrapped in Dadisa's. The moment she crossed the threshold, a wave of old memories hit her-running around barefoot as a child, Diwali lights flickering across the courtyard, hiding behind her dadisa's saree during thunderstorms. It was home. And yet today, it felt both comforting and heavy.

They seated her on her childhood bed, which hadn't changed much. The floral bedsheet, the framed photo of her mother, and the small wind chime near the window-everything whispered memories.

Rajveer entered with a tray. "Halwa for the queen," he said, trying to inject playfulness.

Aaradhya managed a soft, "Thank you, Veer bhaisa."

Dadisa sat beside her. "Bata, kya hua? Teri aankhon mein woh chamak kyun nahi se?"

Aaradhya looked away, her voice cracking, "Bas thodi thak gayi hoon, Dadisa. Safar thoda zyada ho gaya..."(I am tired grandmother. The journey was long)

Dadisa didn't push. She simply took Aaradhya's hand into hers and patted it. "Toh kuch din yahin reh. Mann saaf ho jaaye toh baat kar lena. Par apne dil ka bojh le kar mat chal, chhori."

Outside the room, Raghvendra stood quietly, listening.

And he made a silent vow-whoever dared hurt his daughter's soul would have to answer to Raghvendra Rathore,now her daughter will only return when she will want

.

.

In the afternoon the golden hues of the setting sun poured into Aaradhya's childhood room, casting soft shadows across the walls. The gentle chime by the window moved faintly in the breeze, echoing like a forgotten lullaby. Outside, laughter and chatter from the courtyard slowly faded as family members returned to their own rooms, giving her the space they knew she needed.

Aaradhya sat on the edge of her bed, fingers loosely tangled in her odhani. Her long braid lay across her shoulder, slightly messy from the day's travel. The room was quiet now-too quiet. The kind of silence that made thoughts louder, memories sharper. She stared blankly at the wall ahead, but her mind was anything but still.

It wasnt like she didn't wanted to give him a chance again , she wanted to move on, but the images kept flashing-Rani's smug smile, Vijayendra's silence, the way his hand had rested too easily on Rani's arm in that memory that wouldn't stop playing in her head.

His voice of calling her name as she walked away. That broken whisper she wasn't meant to hear.

"Mat jaa, Aaradhya... kyunki main jeena bhool gaya hoon tere bina."

She closed her eyes tightly, as if that could block the pain when suddenly she heard soft sound of bells.

Turning her head toward it, her eyes fell on the small wind chime dancing at the window.

He used to hate wind chimes.

"Kitni irritating awaaz hai, Aaradhya," he used to grumble, frowning.

And yet he never once asked her to remove it.

Aaradhya smiled faintly at the memory. Her lips curved, but her eyes stung.

She leaned back slowly, resting her head on the wooden headboard, eyes drifting shut. But peace didn't come. Instead, it was his voice she heard-deep, possessive, and maddeningly close.

> "Mujhe pasand nahi jab tu maare se door jaati hai..."(I don't like when you go away from me)

> "Meri baat maan jaa, Aaradhya. Maaf karde maine... sirf is baar, mai ainda tane shikayat ka mauka na duga..."(Just listen to me this time,Aaradhya. Forgive me. I will promise ji won't hurt you. )

> "Tu maari lugai se. 15 saal inteqaar kiya se thare vasate...""(You are mu wife I have waited 15 yrs for you. )

>"Agar aaj tu gayi toh mai tane lene tab tak na aauga ,jab tak tu na aana chahegi" (If today you went then I won't come to take you till the tie you yourself want to come)

>"Mat jaa Aaradhya mai jeena bhool jauga tere bager" (Aaradhya don't go, I will die without you)

Her chest tightened.

Why did his voice sound so close even now? Why did her heart still react when he was the very reason for its cracks?

She blinked rapidly, pushing back tears, but her mind betrayed her.

She saw his eyes again-that look he gave when he was angry... or jealous... or vulnerable. She remembered the way how his eyes begged her to not to go. How her hand clenched at side when she told him that she wants to come here.

And now when she is finally away from him, from all the chaos she misses him, she misses how his fingers lingered against hers, the unspoken confessions in his touch. And the kiss...

Aaradhya pressed her palms to her face, as if trying to block it all out. But how could she?

Her body still remembered the way he held her. Her heart still trembled at the raw intensity he carried. No matter how much she tried to hate him, there was something about Vijayendra that seeped into her very bones.

And now, she was back in her old home, surrounded by people who loved her-yet she had never felt more alone.

A soft sob escaped her lips before she could stop it. She curled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them, letting the silence absorb her pain.

> "Why did you do this, Vijayendra?"

"Why did you make me feel something, only to break everything?" She whispered in broken voice. She didn't notice the hour that passed in her quiet torment. But deep in her soul, she knew...

No matter how far she ran, she couldn't escape him.

Because she didn't just leave his house. She left her own heart behind.

---

Otherside.

The old Thakur haveli stood tall and proud in the heart of the desert, its arches grand and windows shuttered against the evening chill. Yet inside, the warmth had faded. There were no echoes of laughter, no soft footsteps in the courtyard, no fragrance of sandalwood and rose trailing behind a certain someone.

Aaradhya was gone.

And with her, it felt as if the soul of the haveli had left too.

Now, the haveli was too quiet. The servants walked on eggshells. Even Agastya hadn't dared to joke today.

Vijayendra sat on the edge of his carved rosewood bed, the oil lamp beside him flickering gently. The faint scent of smoke, mixed with the old wood of the furniture, filled the air-but none of it soothed his senses tonight.

His eyes were fixed on the small silver comb resting on the dressing table-hers. She had forgotten it. Or maybe... she'd left it behind on purpose.

The shawl she often wore still hung loosely on the hook. Every corner of the room screamed her name. Every silence whispered her absence.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and exhaled, the heaviness in his chest refusing to ease.

He remembered the way she had looked before leaving-dignified, wounded, her chin held high, but eyes glistening with betrayal and unshed tears.

She had left with Raghvendra Rathore-her father-and those two cousins of hers, Rajveer and Arjun. Not once had she looked back.

Not even at him.

And this makes him even more boil.

If she wanted to visit there then she should have just informed him , he himself would have taken her there.

If she was angry then she should have expressed it to him.

He knew what he did was wrong. But didn't he asked forgiveness, did he promised to not to repeat it ever again. But what she did? She just left.

And now he will not go. He will not bring her back till she herself ask him.

Vijayendra stood abruptly, the wooden chair screeching as it scraped the floor. With determined steps, he walked to the jharokha and pushed it open. The night breeze hit him, cold and dry, carrying the scent of the desert and the faint, far-off rustle of peacocks in the orchards.

He stared at the moonlit sand dunes stretching beyond the village-the direction her car had taken.

His fists tightened over the windowsill.

> "Aaradhya..."

Her name slipped from his lips like a prayer. Like a wound.

She had become his habit-no, his need. The sharpness of her voice, the softness of her touch, the fight in her eyes. Her absence now gnawed at him like hunger. He didn't eat. He didn't sleep.

It was strange. The haveli was filled with gold, land, guards, power-and yet he had never felt so... powerless.

Because the one woman who had made his palace a home... wasn't here anymore.

He closed the jharokha, stepped back into the darkness of the room, and sat once more.

But, he couldn't sleep.

He'd stare at that empty side of the bed.

He'd breathe in the shawl she left behind.

He'd feel her presence in every inch of the silence.

Days passed slowly in the Rathore haveli, like sand slipping through a loosely tied fist. Aaradhya tried to blend in with the rhythm of her childhood home, hiding behind her silent grace and modest smiles. But no matter how many chores she took up, how many hours she spent grinding masalas in the kitchen, or braiding her dadisa's hair in the evening light-her mind refused to rest.

The more she tried to forget, the more he returned.

Vijayendra.

His name echoed like an unanswered prayer, soft and painful, in the hollows of her heart.

She had thought that coming back to her mayka, among her own people, would give her comfort. But she hadn't expected the ache of loneliness to grow deeper amidst so many warm hearts.

It was evening. The sky outside was melting into a dusky orange, and the haveli buzzed with its usual domestic rituals.

In the aangan, bhabhi-sa was waiting with a brass thali for Rajveer to return. Her eyes lit up the moment she heard his horse's distant neigh. Aaradhya watched from the corridor shadows as bhabhi-sa ran her fingers through her hair, checked her pallu, and stood with a shy smile when he finally walked through the gates, dust rising behind him.

Seeiing their affection Aaradhya missed her home, her real home her husband, turned away not wanting to disturb.

Later Aaradhya was sitting with Arjun, while helping him polish his sword, when her hands stilled as she saw her choti chachi bring a glass of cool chaas for Arjun's pitaji-with nothing more than a silent glance between them. That silent bond, that comfort of knowing when your partner needed something...the time when husband return home after a long full day work and his wife comfort him with her presence, her small comfoting touch. These were the things which Aaradhya had never known that. Or maybe she never allowed it.

That night, while the entire haveli dozed in gentle snores, Aaradhya sat by the dim diya in her room. She reached out to open the wooden trunk at the foot of her bed. Under layers of soft muslin and old anklets, she pulled out the last thing she had taken from Vijayendra's room-

His handkerchief. Rough. Stained. Smelling faintly of smoke and him.

"Did i do right by coming here...?"

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the trunk.

Flashes came rushing in-the way his eyes darkened when she walked away... the way he whispered her name that night when she had accidentally answered his call... the way he silently watched her as if he could tear down every wall she put up with just his stare.

She shook her head, angrily wiping her tears. "Bas, Aaradhya. Tumhe bhoolna hi hoga usse."

(Enough, Aaradhya. You have to forget him.)

But even as she said it, her hands refused to let go of the cloth.

And outside, the wind howled through the neem trees like a soul searching for its other half.

Next day the Rathore haveli was alive with its usual rhythm-chatter of the women in the courtyard, the clang of metal vessels in the kitchen, the rustle of sarees against the marble floors. Children played near the tulsi vrindavan while elders sat on the jhoolas, discussing the crops and monsoon predictions. The world outside her room continued to move, but inside... Aaradhya remained still.

Wrapped in her pale cotton odhani, she sat by the wooden window that overlooked the aangan. The golden afternoon sun poured through the lattice, casting patterned shadows on her face and the stone walls.

Her chin rested on her knee as her eyes followed the scenes unfolding below.

There was chachi-sa, carefully adjusting her husband's turban before he left for the fields. A gentle touch on his shoulder, a word of caution whispered. A small steel tiffin pressed into his hands.

On the other side,her bhabhi-sa walked beside Rajveer, adjusting his kurta, reminding him to eat on time. He smiled, teasing her gently, while she blushed and turned away.

There was affection in every glance, care in every gesture. Soft, quiet things. Things she never thought she would long for.

A lump formed in her throat.

She had never once fixed Vijayendra's shawl before he stepped out. Never packed him a lunch. Never asked if he had eaten. Every conversation between them had either been laced with defiance or silences too thick to break.

And yet now...

Now she missed the very man she had refused to listen at ,while leaving. His silent stares. His rough voice calling her name. His hand on her waist when she passed too close. His unspoken anger. His unexpressed need of keeping her close.

"Aaradhya tu Mari lugai se,aur ek lugai ko uske mard ka saath hi shobha deve hai"

(Aaradhya you are wife and a wife should always be with her husband only)

She stood abruptly and walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back-tired, confused, and achingly lonely. Her sindoor box sat untouched on the dressing table her bua-sa had prepared for her return.

She picked it up, her hand trembling slightly.

And then, before she could think, she placed it back down.

> He is my husband... but I never gave him the right to be one. And yet... now that I've left, it feels like a part of me has stayed behind in that room, in that haveli... with him.

A sudden gust of desert wind whooshed through the open window, rustling her dupatta. Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly.

Just then, dadisa called from the corridor, her voice laced with warmth.

"Aaradhya , chhori idhar aa"

She quickly wiped her eyes and nodded, stepping out into the courtyard, the smile on her lips practiced-like the women around her.

But inside... her heart beat not for the familiarity of her mayka, but for the absence that haunted her like a shadow.

And somewhere, far away, in the same quiet silence...

Vijayendra was missing her too.

So how was the chapter? I can change or rearrange plots later according to story requirements.

Lot's of love to you all

Love you all

Itsyourblackrose