The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as Kiara adjusted her Hindi gown, draping the scarf elegantly over her shoulders. Her gaze fell on the vermillion streak at her hairline—it refused to wipe away, shimmering faintly as if it had a life of its own. She pressed her fingers to it, a pang of memory from last night stirring in her chest.
Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs, recalling the chaos, the revelations, and the strange closeness that had formed between her and Yuvaan. The house was bustling, the family gathered in anticipation—but Yuvaan and Bhoomi were conspicuously absent.
Susheela stood near the entrance, holding a thali decorated with flowers, vermillion, and incense, her eyes bright with excitement and a touch of nervousness. Kiara leaned close to Angad and whispered, "Who's arriving today?"
Angad's lips curled into a small, playful smile. "Moti Baa," he said softly.
At that very moment, a sleek car rolled to a stop before the mansion. The door opened, and out stepped a woman of around seventy, her hair silver but neatly tied, her posture regal, her eyes sharp with the command of a matriarch. She wore a silk saree, rich with embroidery, and adorned with subtle yet elegant jewelry that spoke of both taste and authority.
The staff bowed deeply, greeting her with utmost respect as she walked in. Susheela, quick to respond, covered her own hair and approached with the aarti, performing the traditional Chandrika aarti, murmuring prayers for blessings. "Mother-in-law, please bless us," she said, her voice a mixture of reverence and warmth.
Chandrika's eyes softened slightly as she raised her hand, showering her blessings upon Susheela, Vinod, and the rest of the family. "May this house and family prosper," she said, her voice carrying the weight of both wisdom and expectation.
Vinod, ever dutiful, stepped forward and greeted his mother with a respectful touch, calling her "Baa," his tone a mixture of love and deference. Meanwhile, Riddhi, Aakash, and Angad rushed to embrace her, murmuring their greetings with affection. "Dear Grandma!" they chorused, enveloping her in a flurry of warmth and familial respect.
Kiara watched quietly from the stairs, her heart tugged between awe and a sense of unease. The grandeur, the ritual, and the hierarchy of this family were overwhelming—but she reminded herself of her place here now, as Yuvaan's wife, and the daughter-in-law expected to navigate these waters with both grace and tact.
The morning sun painted the Pratap Singh mansion in golden hues as Chandrika's sharp gaze swept across the family gathered before her. After blessing everyone, she finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of authority that silenced even the bustling servants.
"Two people are missing," she said, her eyes flicking with both concern and expectation.
Susheela, bristling, stepped forward, unable to restrain her tongue. "Mother-in-law, why do you need to speak about them? They are the two who brought unrest into this house… that cur—"
Chandrika's hand lifted, a single gesture halting Susheela mid-sentence. Her voice, calm yet laced with steel, cut through the tension. "Stop."
The room fell silent. Chandrika's gaze settled on Susheela with an unmistakable edge. "Do not forget, you are speaking about my grandson. You will address him by his name: Yuvaan—or if your heart allows, lovingly, Yuvi. But any other unbefitting name, any disrespect, and you will face my wrath. Understand?"
The family bowed their heads instinctively, the weight of Chandrika's presence making even Susheela's face pale. Vinod, Riddhi, and the others murmured quiet agreements, their earlier grievances melting under the stern scrutiny of their matriarch.
Kiara, standing slightly apart, watched with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Even in her heart, she felt a shiver—this was a woman whose words shaped the fate of the entire household. And Yuvaan… her husband, her protector, was the only one who could stand before such authority without flinching.
The Grand Hall fell into a respectful hush as Chandrika's sharp gaze swept across the assembled family. Her presence alone commanded attention, yet beneath the stern exterior, there was warmth that softened even the stiffest shoulders.
"Yuvi! Yuvi!" she called, her voice echoing through the hall, firm but filled with affection.
From the staircase, Yuvaan emerged, clad in a sleek black outfit that made him look impossibly elegant. His usual composure softened as his eyes met hers.
"Moti baby, you finally decided to return from your pilgrimage," he said, striding gracefully toward her.
Chandrika's eyes twinkled, a mix of amusement and maternal fondness. "Won't you give your baby a hug, sugarplum?"
Yuvaan chuckled, bending slightly to envelop her in a warm embrace. "Of course! I missed you. After you left, only Mom and Angad were the positive vibes in this house… as for the rest, we are all bad, bad bitches."
Chandrika yanked his ears lightly, her expression playful yet firm. "I told you not to use such words in front of me!"
Yuvaan raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. "You're my baby, and yet you're already punishing me."
"Punishing you for getting married in my absence too!" Chandrika said, though a soft smile lingered on her lips. Then her gaze softened, and she motioned toward the hall. "Now, call your wife."
Kiara stepped forward cautiously, palms pressed together, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grandma…" She touched Chandrika's feet, feeling a mix of awe, reverence, and comfort.
Chandrika's sternness melted into a gentle, approving smile. "You've never let me down, Yuvi. And you… have married such a beauty," she said, glancing meaningfully at Kiara.
Kiara's chest swelled as she lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you, Grandma."
Chandrika's eyes lingered on her, sparkling with approval. "More than that, I see your heart. Angad has told me much about you… and I see it reflected in your eyes."
Yuvaan's gaze met hers, and in that silent exchange, pride, respect, and unspoken gratitude passed between them. Even the rest of the family—Vinod, Susheela, Riddhi, and Angad—watched in quiet awe, sensing the rare power of Chandrika's acceptance.
In that Grand Hall, every eye followed the matriarch, yet it was Kiara who felt most seen, most acknowledged, as if a silent bond of love and respect had been forged in that single moment.