Abhimaan SS-Bounded By Fate

Chapter Three.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but her voice didn’t falter. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Mr. Poddar. I need you to stand beside me, and if you can’t do that, then let me fight, Don’t stop me when I want to say my part. All these months you’ve only distanced yourself, and I feel like I’m fighting alone.” 

For a moment, his face softened, but it quickly hardened again. “Abhira not every argument is won when you fight the elders, you can put your points forward even without offending Dadi Sa.” he said quietly. 

She looked at him, her expression one of pure disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself Mr. Poddar?” 

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with emotions that neither knew how to handle. Without another word, Abhira grabbed her dupatta and walked out of the room, leaving Armaan standing there, his fists clenched at his sides. 

As the door clicked shut behind her, he sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with questions neither had the courage to ask and answers they were too afraid to hear.

_________

A

bhira walked into the kitchen, her mind still clouded with the lingering tension from her confrontation with Armaan. As she stepped in, the bright yellow of Ruhi’s saree caught her attention, almost blinding her. Ruhi was beaming, radiating the excitement of a new bride as she prepared for her pehli rasoi. The room buzzed with energy, all the ladies gathered around, offering their support for Ruhi but no Judgments. For judgments in this house were reserved only for Abhira Sharma.

Dadi sa’s sharp eyes immediately landed on Abhira. “Ladki, so you finally decided to grace us with your presence,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Vidya chimed in, her tone equally cutting. “Late as usual, Abhira. Some things never change.” 

Abhira squared her shoulders, her voice calm yet firm. “I’m late by just a few minutes. I—” 

“Enough!” Dadi sa interrupted, raising her hand. “Don’t spoil the ritual with your excuses. This is Ruhi’s moment, and I won’t have it ruined because of you.” 

Manisha, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Abhira’s. It was a silent gesture, but it spoke volumes—her way of saying, I’m here with you.

Vidya took the opportunity to guide Ruhi, her voice overly sweet as she explained the ritual. “Ruhi beta, this is your pehli rasoi, a very special moment for a new bride. You’ll prepare something simple yet meaningful to symbolize your entry into the family’s kitchen.” She paused, her gaze flicking to Abhira with a sly smile. “Not like some people who turned their pehli rasoi into a disaster.” 

The taunt stung, and Abhira clenched her fists, the memory flashing vividly in her mind. Unlike Ruhi, she had never been celebrated as a new bride. Her entry into the Poddar household had been anything but grand. There were no rituals, no moments of joy—just silent judgment and disapproval. 

Her pehli rasoi had been a grueling task, handed a long list of dishes to prepare for lunch, with no room for mistakes and no help. She remembered the humiliation of Dadi sa publicly calling her out for putting a little extra salt in the dal, making it a spectacle for everyone conveniently ignoring the table full of dishes that were descent if not perfect. 

Shaking off the memory, she refocused on the scene before her. Ruhi, with a shy smile, announced, “I’ll make kheer for everyone.” 

Kajal giggled, teasing her. “Of course, kheer! After all, it’s Rohit’s favorite, isn’t it?”