The rain had arrived like a whise—soft, slow, and heavy with unspoken che. Droplets trickled down the railis, kissing the earth below with something far too familiar.

She sat quietly on the balcony, wrapped in her dupatta, eyes closed and chin resting on her knees. The vibrant colors of her outfit had long faded into a damp green that clung to her skin with a chilly embrace. Pale, tired reflections played across her face—thoughts she hadn’t dared to say aloud.

Thunder creaked somewhere far away. But it wasn’t the sky she was afraid of.

It was the storm inside her.

She didn’t hear his footsteps over the rain. But she felt his presence before she saw him. He walked over softly.

> “Is everything fine?” he asked gently.

She didn’t move, just stared out at the rain as if it held all the answers.

> “Does it seem like it?” she replied, her voice barely audible, lost between indifference and pain.

He sat down beside her—close, but not quite touching—as though waiting for permission to enter the world she’d built behind walls of silence.

> “Umm-hmm,” he murmured, studying her. “Tumhara chehra bata raha hai ki tum kuch soch rahi ho… dardnaak shayad. Kuch bura. Khaufnaak.”

Her lips trembled, but no words came out. Only a soft, exiled smile flickered across her face.

> “Apni takleefon ke peeche chhupna band karo,” he said softly, holding her hand and caressing it. “Kitna hi saha hai tumne… please mujhse kuch mat chhupana.”

She looked at him, eyes glistening.

> “Cry if you want to. Don’t hide it. Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

> “Mujhse sehna nahi ho raha… main sambhal nahi paa rahi,” she choked out.

> “Main sun raha hoon. Tum bas nikaal do apne mann se sab kuch,” he urged.

> “Kya galti thi meri… bas yahi ki maine khud ke liye stand liya?” she sobbed. “Nahi banna tha mujhe ek ‘ideal daughter.’ Aur bas isliye, kyunki maine apne liye bola, unhone mujhe disrespect kiya… compare kiya.”

> “Har koi sab kuch nahi kar sakta. As a human, I couldn’t do it all together. Baat-baat pe mujhe tokte the… kapdon pe, khane pe, ghoomne pe… yahi galti thi meri ki unki expectations tak nahi pahunch paayi main,” she cried, hiccuping.

> “I’m saying I tried,” she said, voice breaking. “But they never stopped comparing me… my imperfections… my efforts.”

Aakash saw the pain clouding her eyes. He pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close.

> “Mujhe nahi pata tha ki itna bardaasht karna padta hai ek acchi beti banne ke liye. Main sochti thi.sab kuch kar leti hu main .. agar kuch galat hota, toh mujh pe ungli uthane mein bhi der nahi karte,” she said between hiccups.

> “Aaj bhi waise hi hoon na main? Kuch nahi kar paati… main imperfect hoon,” she whispered.

> “Shh… jaan, rona band karo. Aur kisi ki baaton pe dhyaan dene ki zarurat nahi hai. Perfect ho tum… mere liye,” he said, rubbing her back, trying to ease her pain.

> “I was never enough, Aakash,” she cried into his chest.

> “Unhone nahi dekha ki main bhi insaan hoon… bas mujhe kisi aur ki tarah banana chahte the. Jaise main koi competition hoon,” she said bitterly.

His palm moved in slow, soothing circles on her back, grounding her. His chin rested lightly atop her head.

> “They disrespected me… meri khamoshi ko kamzori samjha… aur mujhe aawaz ko badtameezi,” she murmured, her words pouring out between sobs, like rain pouring off the roof. She gasped for breath, clutching his shirt, burying herself in his familiar scent and the steadiness of him.

Then, when her words finally slowed, reduced to hiccups and broken breaths, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

> “Bas,” he whispered. “Bas, Rosebud. Not another tear.”

His thumb brushed away the wetness from her cheek. His eyes were stormy but soft.

> “I don’t care who said what,” he murmured. “. And Shashi… there’s nothing broken here. All I see is a woman strong enough to stand in a storm and still bloom like roses.”

Her lips parted, breath still uneven—but something inside her melted at his words. Slowly… he leaned in. His lips brushed her temple, her jaw, feather-light.

> “Let me remind you what it feels like to be held… without being judged,” he whispered.

And before she could respond, he kissed her.

Not hungrily.

Not urgently.

Just… deeply.

He didn’t say anything, only slipped his arms beneath her knees and around her back. Before she could process what was happening, he lifted her.

Her breath hitched.

> “Shh,” he whispered. “Just let me.”

He carried her inside and gently laid her on the bed—as though she were porcelain, delicate and divine. She lay there, heart pounding, eyes locked on his as he hovered above her, not touching yet—simply watching, as if silently asking for permission.

And in that unspoken silence, she gave him everything.

His fingers moved first, reverently, reaching for a strand of wet hair and brushing it back from her cheek. His thumb lingered at her jaw. Then he leaned down, lips pressing soft kisses along the path of her tears—the space where her neck met her shoulder.

With a soft inhale, he slipped her dupatta aside, revealing the delicate line of her collarbone and neck. He kissed the mole on her skin.

> “Beautiful,” he whispered.

Then he lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms. She shifted closer, pressing her hand against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her protectively.

> “You don’t need to think about them,” he whispered again. “I don’t ever want to see your beautiful face hidden behind tears.”

He brushed away a stray hair from her face, kissed her forehead softly, and stayed there. Watching her until he saw her eyes flutter closed. And finally… she slept.

__________________________________

THIS CHAPTER SCREAMS THE VOICE OF EVERY DAUGHTER WHO HAS BEEN JUDGED IN HER OWN HOUSE

IF ANY OF MY READER RELATE TO THIS REMEMBER PLEASE 'YOU ARE VERY STRONG '

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