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After Kaveri told Nayantara about Durga being in Banaras,safe and healthy. Nayantara’s lips curved into a faint smile of relief. Yet that calm quickly faded, replaced by a flicker of concern clouding her eyes.

"Durga... Dhananjay se kab mil sakti hai, Jiji?"
(When can Durga meet Dhananjay?)

Kaveri lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her saree, about to answer when a sharp, curious voice cut through the silence.

“Kaun Dhananjay se milne vala hai, Kaki?”
(Who is going to meet Dhananjay?)

Both Kaveri and Nayantara froze on the spot, turning their faces slowly toward the direction of the voice. Ganga stood by the doorway, arms crossed, suspicion glinting in her eyes.

She stepped forward, her gaze shifting between the two women.

"Kaun milne vala hai... haan? Mujhe bhi batao."
(Who is going to meet him, hmm? Tell me too.)

For a moment, silence reigned in the room. The two older women exchanged a quick, nervous glance before Kaveri forced a faint smile.

“Vo... Ritwik... Ritwik ke Nana-Nani Banaras mein hain na... to unse milwana tha Dhananjay ko.”

(It’s... Ritwik. His grandparents live in Banaras, so we wanted Dhananjay to meet them.)

Ganga frowned slightly.

“Oh... Vo vahan kyun?”
(But why is he there?)

Kaveri exhaled softly, her tone low yet firm.

“Maine hi kaha tha yahan se dur jaane... is gaon se dur jaane.”

(I was the one who told him to leave... to go far away from this village.)

Her eyes shifted briefly to Nayantara, who nodded in silent agreement.

“Theek hai... chaliye, nashta kar lete hain.”

(Alright then... let’s have breakfast.)

Both women nodded, grateful for the change in subject, and walked alongside her toward the dining area.

The breakfast table was neatly set. Along with Nayantara and Kaveri, Dhananjay and Ritwik sat together quietly. Sudha had already served breakfast in Digvijay and Yamini’s room, as instructed, and soon joined them. Ganga assisted her in serving, her eyes occasionally flicking toward Kaveri and Nayantara, as if still trying to read the truth they had hidden beneath their calm faces.

Once everyone finished eating, Ganga began clearing the table with Sudha, insisting everyone else return to their rooms. The clinking of utensils and the faint rustle of sarees filled the quiet house, but behind the stillness lingered a secret-one neither Kaveri nor Nayantara dared to speak aloud. The truth of Durga!
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That night after dinner everyone retarded to their room. Ganga stayed with Sudha until the last light getting turned off and then leaving her to her room Ganga walked towards her room..

She stepped in. And just pushed the door, didn't lock it. They were not married by rituals. It was just a marriage for names sake.
It's not like Ganga didn't trust him. She did more than herself but Dhananjay only asked for this.

They live in said room. Sleep below the same bed. But something is still off. Ganga never thought of it this deeply. Until today.
They have lied to everyone about this marriage. But lying to Kaveri and Nayantara, she just can't bear this.

She sighed and walked into room. Finding no one in. She walked in searching for Dhananjay until her eyes caught him standing on the balcony too lost in his own turmoil.

Ganga walked close to him,and looking at his face she gently slipped her hand on his wrist.

“Thakur sahab ke baare mein soch rahe hona...”
(You’re thinking about Thakur Sahab, aren’t you?)

Dhananjay, startled by her sudden touch, turned his head toward her. His eyes softened as they met hers.

“Tumhe kaise pata chala...?”
(How did you know?)

A faint smile curved Ganga’s lips.
“Itna toh tumhari shakal dekh kar bata sakti hoon.”
(That much I can tell just by looking at your face.)

She rose slightly on her toes and, with both hands, gently touched the furrow between his brows.

“Jab tumhari bhavein ekdum jud jaati hain... tab tum unke baare mein soch rahe hote ho.”
(Whenever your brows knit together like this... it means you’re thinking about him.)

Her voice carried a quiet confidence - the kind that comes only from knowing someone’s soul by heart.

But Dhananjay’s eyes turned darker, a storm brewing behind that calm face.
She was standing too close to him. Too damn close.
Before she could step back, his hand suddenly wrapped around her waist.

Ganga gasped softly as he pulled her flush against his chest.
The air between them stilled, thick with an unnamed pull.

“Itne dhyaan se dekhti ho mujhe...” he murmured, his voice deep and low, so slow that only she could hear it.
(You watch me so closely...)

Ganga’s throat went dry. Her breath hitched as she averted her gaze, heart pounding against her ribs.
“Woh...” she began hesitantly, trying to explain..but words failed her.

Before she could say more, his grip suddenly loosened.
His head dropped, his breath unsteady. And then -without a single word, he pulled her back into his arms, this time not in desire, but in despair.

He held her tightly,too tightly..as if gathering his scattered strength from her presence alone.

“Dhananjay...” Ganga whispered, her palm resting gently on his back, feeling the tremor in his body.

His voice broke when he finally spoke, low, heavy, and raw.
“Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha hai, Ganga... Kya main sahi bhi hoon? Kya main jo kar raha hoon, vo sahi hai bhi? Kyun ajeeb si bechaini hai mere dil mein... jaise sab kuch paakar bhi sab kuch chhut gaya ho... Mera sab kuch... meri zindagi... vo mujhse door hai... kyun aisa lagta hai?”

(I don’t understand anything, Ganga... Am I even right? Is what I’m doing right? Why is there such a restlessness in my heart... as if I’ve gained everything, yet lost it all? My everything... my life... feels far from me. Why does it feel this way?)

Ganga didn’t reply. She simply stroked his back in silence,her touch calm, grounding.

After a moment, she gently patted his head, her voice steady but soft.
Making a little distance between them, she looked into his tired eyes and said.

“Tum jo kar rahe ho... sahi kar rahe ho. Mujhe vishwas hai tum par. Aur jo chhut raha hai... vo hai sukoon.”
(What you’re doing... is right. I trust you. And what’s slipping away... is peace.)

He frowned slightly, his voice quieter now.
“Matlab...?”

Ganga sighed at his question. Without answering directly, she took his hand in hers.
Her touch was firm, resolute, like a promise.

Reaching for a small torch kept on the side table, she whispered,
“Chalo mere saath...”
(Come with me...)

Without another word, she led him out of the room.

The haveli was silent, asleep, unaware of the two figures stepping into the night. Searching the Peace.

Behind the haveli, in the quiet open space bathed in moonlight, Ganga stopped and turned toward him.
“Bas yahin ruko... aur bilkul chup raho.” (Just stand here... and stay quiet.)

Dhananjay frowned slightly but obeyed, watching her in silence.

Ganga moved swiftly, first disappearing inside the haveli and returning with a folded piece of cloth. She spread it carefully on a nearby khat, patting it twice with her hand.
“Baitho yahan.” (Sit here.)

Without waiting for a reply, she began gathering a few dry wooden sticks from the corner, arranging them neatly on the ground before lighting them up.
The faint crackle of burning wood filled the stillness of the night.

Dhananjay sat quietly, his eyes following her every movement.

She went inside again, only to return with a few small vessels clinking softly in her hands.
Placing one vessel over the burning wood, she poured in some water, added tea leaves, grated ginger, a pinch of elaichi (cardamom), and a bit of gud (jaggery).

Unable to hold back his curiosity, Dhananjay finally asked,
“Kya kar rahi ho, Ganga...?” (What are you doing, Ganga...?)

She didn’t even look up.
“Makan bana rahi hun.... dikh nahi raha? Chai bana rahi hoon main! Ab chup raho bilkul.”
(Be quiet… can’t you see? I’m making tea!)

He raised an amused eyebrow.
“Bina doodh ke? Kaali chai pilaogi mujhe?”
(Without milk? Are you going to make me drink black tea?)

Ganga froze for a second, her eyes widening in realization.
“Hai Devi Maiya! Vo toh main bhool hi gayi! Abhi aayi bas!”
(Oh Goddess! I completely forgot! I’ll be right back!)

And she rushed back inside in a hurry, her anklets tinkling as she ran.

Dhananjay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. Watching her like this-so pure, so unfiltered. a small warmth spread across his heart, melting the heaviness he had carried moments ago.

Within a minute, Ganga returned, a little breathless, but smiling. She handed him a woolen shawl.
“Odh lo, thand lag jayegi.” (Wrap this around you, you’ll catch a cold.)

Then she poured milk into the simmering vessel, stirring it slowly with a spoon. The aroma of tea mingled with the cold night air.

Before pouring it out, she folded her hands and spoke softly with a little prayerful expression:
“Chai ji, naraz mat hona... mujhe pata hai, Dhananjay ne hi sikhaya tha doodh pehle daalte hain. Par vo kya hai na, jaldi jaldi mein bhool gayi... maaf kar do.”

(Dear tea, don’t be angry… I know, Dhananjay himself taught me that milk should go first. But you see, I was in such a hurry, I forgot... please forgive me.)

Her innocent tone made him smile, not just with his lips, but from somewhere deep inside.

Dhananjay smiled faintly, wrapping the shawl around his shoulders. The fire crackled softly beside them, its glow dancing across his face.
He sat a short distance away, simply watching her as she busied herself with the boiling tea.

After a few minutes, when the water began to rise and bubble, Ganga moved closer to lift the vessel. But before she could touch the hot pot and burn her hands, Dhananjay stepped forward.

With practiced care, he poured the steaming tea into a single cup- the only one she had brought.

He glanced at her with mock seriousness.
“Meri cup kahan hai? Mujhe nahi dogi?”

(Where’s my cup? Won’t you give me one?)

Ganga smiled, her eyes glinting in the firelight. Holding the single cup out to him, she said softly.
“Ye tumhari hi hai... mere haathon ki chai. Peeke batao.”
(This is yours... tea made by my hands. Tell me how it tastes.)

Dhananjay looked at her, at the quiet pride in her eyes, before taking the cup.
He blew on it a few times, then took a slow sip.

The next moment, Ganga leaned forward slightly, half nervous, half eager.
“Kaise hai...?” (How is it?)

Dhananjay made a face, pretending to think.
“Thodi kadwi hai...” (A little bitter...)

The excitement on her face faded instantly.
“Maaf karna... agli baar isse acchi banaungi.” (I’m sorry... I’ll make it better next time.) she muttered, her tone small and sincere.

That only made him laugh,
“Are, main toh mazak kar raha tha!” (Hey, I was just joking!) he said, handing the cup toward her.

“Sach mein bahut acchi bani hai... peeke dekho khud.”
(It’s really good... taste it yourself.)

Ganga frowned at him, refusing to take the cup, but curiosity won.
She leaned in and took a sip straight from the same cup. Not even bothered to hold the cup on her own. With the single sip.her brows knitted together

“Ye kitni acchi hai... jhooth bolte ho tum!” (It’s so good... you’re such a liar!)

And before she could stop herself, she slapped his arm lightly.
Dhananjay only laughed harder, clutching his side, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Their laughter mingled with the sound of the crackling fire. Sip by sip, they shared the same cup, teasing, smiling, forgetting for a moment everything that weighed on their hearts.

When the tea was finished, they sat close to the dying embers of the fire. Ganga extended her palms to warm them, but a cold wind swept through, making her body shiver.

Dhananjay noticed. Without a word, he shifted closer, spreading half of his shawl over her shoulders and gently pulling her in.

Ganga froze, her breath caught in her throat.
Her cheeks flushed crimson, and though her body leaned into his warmth, her eyes stayed down- afraid to meet his gaze.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was tender -like something unspoken was finally understood between them.

They both sat in silence for a long while, the fire crackling softly beside them, its warmth flickering between their shadows.

Finally, Ganga broke the silence, her tone light yet laced with concern.
“Chalo... ab batao, hua kya hai? Kyun tujhe itni chinta khaye ja rahi thi?”
(Come on... tell me, what happened? Why were you so worried earlier?)

Dhananjay didn’t reply immediately. He just stared into the fire — eyes lost in thought, lips pressed into a thin line.
When she asked again, her voice softer this time.

“Kya hua hai? Thakur Saheb ne kaha kuch...?”
(What happened? Did Thakur Saheb say something?)

He gave a small nod, his jaw tightening.
“Vo chahte hain... main gaanv ka sarpanch ban jaun.”
(He wants me to become the village head.)

Ganga frowned slightly, tilting her head.
“Toh harz kya hai?”
(So what’s the problem in that?)

He let out a weary sigh, his voice low but firm.
“Bahut badi problem hai ye, Ganga...”
(It’s a big problem, Ganga...)

He turned to face her, his eyes carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t change.
“Ye zimmedariyaan mujhe thama dene ka matlab tum nahi samajh rahi ho. Iska matlab saaf hai... mujhe is jagah se, un purane riwaazon se baandh kar rakhna. Jo main nahi chahta.”
(You don’t understand what it means for them to hand me this responsibility. It means tying me to this place — to old traditions — and that’s something I don’t want.)

The firelight danced across his face, revealing both pain and defiance in his expression.

“Main is jagah ko badalna chahta hoon... uske baad...”
(I want to change this place first... and after that...)

Ganga leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Uske baad kya...?”
(And after that?)

He hesitated for a second, as though speaking the truth aloud might make it real. Then his gaze met hers, steady yet sorrowful.
“Uske baad... hamesha ke liye yahan se chale jaana chahta hoon.”
(After that... I want to leave this place forever.)

The words struck her like a slow ache in her chest.
Her smile faded, and the soft light of the fire reflected in her eyes, now clouded with something deeper, something she couldn’t name.

She didn’t say a word.
She just. The thought running in her mind.
He wanted to leave this place. Once again.
Leave her alone..
Once again.

Dhananjay sighed. His voice, once calm, now carried the weight of years buried within.

“Ye jagah… ye haveli… baar baar mujhe vohi pal yaad dilati hai.”
(This place… this mansion… it keeps reminding me of those moments.)

“Bees saal pehle ki har vo baat. Aaj Kaveri Chachi, Tara Chachi… kam se kam sukoon se hai, hans leti hain thoda. Lekin maine vo din dekhe hain, Ganga… jab is ghar mein hasna gunaah tha.”

(All those memories from twenty years ago… Today, Kaveri Chachi and Tara Chachi can at least smile a little, live peacefully. But I’ve seen the days, Ganga… when even smiling was forbidden in this house.)

His gaze turned hollow, fixed somewhere beyond the fire’s crackle.

“Kabhi nahi dekhi thi ma ke chehre pe muskaan. Kaise rahoon main is jagah, jahan har ek deewar, har ek kona mujhe unhi baton ki yaad dilata hai?”
(I never saw a smile on my mother’s face. How can I live in a place where every wall, every corner reminds me of those times?)

“Jahan maine apni aankhon se dekha tha—jo main aaj nafrat karta hoon. Jo galat hai… is samaj ke liye. Har pal yahan rehna… ek saja lagta hai, Ganga.”
(Where I saw with my own eyes the things I now despise… the things that are wrong for this society. Every moment spent here feels like a punishment, Ganga.)

She didn’t interrupt him,not once. Her eyes softened, reading the pain behind his silence.
Slowly, Ganga moved closer and wrapped her arm around his. Resting her head on his shoulder, she whispered,

“Tum badlaav chahte ho… yahan se jaana chahte ho… sab kuch badalna chahte ho, hai na?”
(You want change… you want to leave this place… you want to change everything, don’t you?)

Dhananjay turned to her, almost startled. She met his eyes with quiet conviction and said,

“To isse achha mauka kya hoga?”
(Then what better opportunity could there be?)

He blinked, confused. “Kya keh rahi ho tum?”
(What are you saying?)

“Tum ek baar Sarpanch bane, iska matlab samjho… sab tumhari baat sunenge. Tumhari chalegi. Jo galat hai, use tum theek kar sakte ho.”
(If you become the village head, understand what it means — everyone will listen to you. Your word will matter. You can change what’s wrong.)

“Kaho, Dhananjay… kya kya galat hai yahan?”
(Tell me, Dhananjay… what are the things that are wrong here?)

Her voice was soft, yet fierce. The fire between them flickered, reflecting the same determination in her eyes that burned inside him.

“Kam umar mein shaadi… According to law, marriageable age is eighteen. When the child is mentally as well as physically developed for responsibility-and obviously, to avoid trauma,” he explained in one breath.

But Ganga only blinked at him, utterly confused. Dhananjay realized a second later that he had spoken all of it in English.

He sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly.
“Mera matlab tha..” (I meant..)

“Haan samajh gayi,” she cut in, nodding quickly.
(Yes, I understood.)

“Bacchon ki shaadi nahi karani chahiye… khaskar buddho se. Jaise meri hui thi… aur Sudha jiji ki jo gayi hai.”
(Children shouldn’t be married off… especially to old men. Like I was… and like Sudha Jiji was.)

Her words hit him like a blow. For a second, he just looked at her-quietly, painfully.

He spoke again, his voice calm but edged with conviction.
“Kisi se bhi nahi. Atharah saal se pehle shaadi karne waalon ke maa-baap, aur jo bhi shaadi mein shaamil ho… unhe jail ho sakti hai.”
(No one should. Parents or anyone involved in marrying off a girl before eighteen can be jailed.)

“Theek hai… aur doosra?” she asked, leaning closer.
(Alright… and the second one?)

He looked down, his face dimming.
“Bagair ijazat ek ladki ko chhuna… ab vo patni hi kyun na ho.”
(Touching a woman without her consent… even if she’s your wife.)

Ganga’s lips parted slightly, but she only nodded—quiet, thoughtful.

He continued, his tone growing heavier.
“Sati pratha… widhaawon se jeene ka haq cheen lena. Auraton ka shoshan. Unhe azaadi dena, unhe atmnirbhar banana.”
(The practice of sati… taking away a widow’s right to live. Exploiting women. They deserve freedom, self-reliance.)

“Aur sabse zaruri—sab ke liye jaruri siksha. Khaas kar ladkiyon ke liye.”
(And most importantly—education for all. Especially for girls.)

Ganga frowned, tilting her head.
“Ladkiyon ki kya?”
(Education for girls?)

“Comp… jaruri siksha,” he corrected himself with a small laugh.
(Comp… compulsory education.)

“Ooh… usse kya hoga aur?” she asked out of curiosity.
(Oh… and what will that do?)

“Shiksha se aatmnirbharta aati hai… yani, khud ke pairon par khada hona, khud kamana… kisi ke aage haath na failana.”
(Education brings self-reliance… it means standing on your own feet, earning for yourself… not having to depend on anyone.)

Ganga nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting the firelight.
“Toh phir ye sab Sarpanch sahab hi kar sakte hain… mujhe vishwas hai tum par, Dhananjay. Tum badal doge… is gaanv ko, yahan ke logon ko, unki soch ko.”
(Then only the Sarpanch can make these changes… I trust you, Dhananjay. You’ll change this village, its people, their mindset.)

He smiled faintly, touched by her words. Placing his hand gently over her head, he spoke softly,
“Ek himmat si aayi… bahut accha laga… tumse sirf baatein karke.”
(I feel a new courage… it feels good… just talking to you.)

Ganga’s lips curved into a small smile. She bit her lower lip lightly, her crimson face glowing under the pale moonlight.
And Dhananjay—he couldn’t look away. He just kept admiring her, silently, reverently.

Hiding her blush, Ganga murmured,
“Sone chalna chahiye ab…”
(We should go and sleep now…)

She stood up to leave, but before she could take a step, Dhananjay’s hand wrapped gently around her wrist.
His voice came low and steady,
“Aaj mujhe in taaron ke neeche sone ka mann hai… mere saath rukogi yahan?”
(Tonight, I want to sleep beneath these stars… will you stay here with me?)

Her heart thudded wildly. Breath caught in her chest. She had never imagined this-never dared to.
Yet, a quiet part of her wanted to.
Wanted to stay.
To be beside him.
To feel what peace meant in his presence.

Shyly, she gave the faintest nod.

Dhananjay’s smile deepened as he lay down on the khaat, eyes fixed on the moonlit sky. Beside him, Ganga lay too close,enough that their breaths mingled.

He turned slightly, slipping his arm beneath her head.
Ganga bit her lip again, forcing her gaze upward to the stars.

But Dhananjay… he didn’t look away.
He just kept watching her—the moonlight dancing across her face, the peace she brought to his storm.

From the balcony of Thakur Haveli, a tall, broad shadow stood still, silent yet burning.
His sharp eyes watched them below, spending time together, laughing softly, exchanging smiles that belonged to no one else. Even from that distance, he could hear their faint voices, their laughter mingling with the evening wind.

It was none other than Digvijay.

His gaze never wavered.
His eyes were fixed on Dhananjay’s face-the rare smile that graced his lips only when Ganga was near. And in that moment, Digvijay knew.
He didn’t need words or proof,he could feel it.

The reason behind Dhananjay’s peace… his happiness… was her. His Ganga.

There was a quiet truth in the way they looked at each other- a bond untouched by greed or desire.
It wasn’t lust that flickered between them.
It was trust, respect, and a devotion so pure that even silence bowed before it.
Their love remained unspoken, buried deep within the chambers of their hearts- yet strong enough to defy every boundary, every hand that dared to pull them apart.

The marriage may have been a lie to the world, but the emotions it birthed were not.
The waiting, the years of distance and pain, it wasn’t merely time that separated them.
It was an ache that lived within their veins… an ache that only they could understand.

Hours passed, and still Dhananjay didn’t move.
Ganga’s head rested lightly on his arm, his muscles numb, his hand stiff from her weight. But he didn’t care. Not even for a second.
If her peace meant his discomfort, he would gladly bear it forever.

Slowly, almost reverently, he slipped his free hand down and entwined his fingers with hers.
The moment his touch brushed her skin, Ganga’s eyes fluttered open.
She looked at him-her gaze calm, questioning nothing, saying everything.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. His voice came low, husky.
“ek sawal puchu Ganga?”

“Hmm..” she hummed, looking at their hand winded together.

“Mera saath kahaan tak dogi tum…?”
His voice came. Slow. Yet too intimate.

Her lips curved faintly, trembling with emotion.
And in that quiet, sacred space between them, she whispered.

“Jab tak na kahe tu… main haara…”

Then, closing the distance between them, Ganga gripped his collar gently,as if anchoring herself to the only truth she trusted.

Resting her head on his shoulder, her voice came softer, almost like a vow murmured to the night.

“Ab laut ke jaana mushkil hai… maine chhod diya hai jug saara…”

Dhananjay smiled on her reply. Caressing her hairs so gently.

They remained lied there. Under the wide open sky. Under the start.

Two souls, bound not by rituals or promises, but by something far rarer. a love that neither confessed nor denied, yet existed more powerfully than either could imagine.

That was Dhananjay and Ganga.
Born for eachother.
Living for eachother.
Meant for eachother...

Thanks for reading..✨