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I have my dissertation presentation today at 11:30, and I sacrificed my sleep just to drop this update. So y’all better hit the vote target this time. No excuses. And if you do—maybe, just maybe—I’ll finally reveal the real villain in the next update."

Vote Target- 150+

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Author's POV –

It had been two weeks since Dhimahi had shifted to her paternal home. Trayambak was against the decision, but Dhimahi had been firm—threatening him with divorce if he didn’t agree. Reluctantly, he had given in. But Trayambak wasn’t the kind of man who let go of the woman he loved—especially not Dhimahi.

He didn't call.
He didn’t message.
But he was there. Watching. Waiting. Loving—from a distance.

Every single night, when Dhimahi had fallen asleep, he would sneak into her room. Her AC had not been working up for a while, and she preferred keeping her window open for ventilation. To Trayambak, that open window was not just for air—it was an opportunity.

He would climb in quietly, gently lay beside her, and wrap his arms around her waist, like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

But it wasn’t easy.

The routine was physically exhausting. He had to wake up before dawn so no one caught him. Then, without sleep, he would go to the office, run hospital errands, and by night, return to sweat in a room with no AC, just to be close to her. The heat was unbearable. The risk, even more so. But the love—the love made it all worth it.

Until one night—he slipped up.

As he stepped out of his car, he accidentally honked the horn.
A single, fatal beep.

Madhuri, Dhimahi’s mother, jolted awake.
She had long suspected that something wasn’t right between them. She could see it in Dhimahi’s eyes—the charm was missing, the sparkle dimmed. She had noticed the silence between the couple, how Dhimahi never called or texted Trayambak anymore. Madhuri has been married long enough to understand: something was off.

Curious, she went to the window, and what she saw left her stunned—Trayambak tiptoeing like a thief, climbing into her daughter’s room.

She didn’t sleep that night.
At dawn, she stayed awake and watched—Trayambak sneaking out, drenched in sweat. Clearly, he wasn’t used to such discomfort. She knew his taste for luxury. The expensive cars, the chilled rooms, the premium life. But here he was—breaking into a hot room every night just to lie beside her daughter.

Madhuri made up her mind. She had to talk to Dhimahi.

_____________

That morning, as Dhimahi woke up groggy, Madhuri sat by her side.

“Dhimahi, tumse kuch baat karni hai.”
["Dhimahi, I need to talk to you."]

“Ji Mumma?”
["Yes, Mom?"]

“Tumhare aur damad ji ke beech mein kuch hua hai kya?”
["Is something going on between you and your husband?"]

Dhimahi averted her eyes.
“Ku... kuch bhi toh nahi Mumma.”
["N-no… nothing at all, Mom."]

“Jhoot mat bolo beta. Main maa hoon. Sab samajhti hoon.”
["Don’t lie, my child. I’m your mother. I understand."]

“Kuch nahi hua Mumma. Aap overthink kar rahi ho.”
["Nothing has happened, Mom. You're just overthinking."]

Madhuri’s voice turned sharper.

“Accha? Toh itne dino se yahan kya kar rahi ho? Tum toh Trayambak ke bina ek din nahi rehti thi. Tumhe usse phone pe baat karte hue bhi nahi dekha maine.”
["Oh really? Then what are you doing here for so many days? You couldn’t stay without Trayambak for even a day. And I haven’t seen you talk to him on the phone even once."]

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