Amaan's POV

Her first rasoi, and she'd nailed it warm, soft, sweet, just like her. My mom had declared it perfect after the first bite, already talking about how "our Isha" made it better than anyone else.

But now the house felt...hollow.

She was packing a small overnight bag, humming under her breath, like she wasn't about to rip the floor out from under my feet and walk away with it. Just for a day, I knew that. One day. But still.

I leaned against the doorway, arms folded, pretending I wasn't watching her every move.

"You're not even taking your charger," I muttered.

She looked up, confused. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Still. What if your phone dies in the middle of the night and you can't call me because you forgot your charger?"

She smiled. The kind of smile that said You're being ridiculous, and I love you for it. She zipped the bag and crossed the room to ruffle my hair. I didn't stop her, but I didn't smile back either.

"I'll be gone for one day, Amaan."

"Twenty-four hours."

She laughed. "Sixteen, technically. I'm not sleeping in."

Didn't matter. Sixteen hours was sixteen too many.

I followed her down as she said goodbye to my mom and Dad, touching their feet, hugging them like she hadn't just moved in five minutes ago. Everyone was all smiles and "go have fun, beti" and "give our wishes to your parents."

No one noticed I wasn't smiling.

She turned to me at the door, her eyes softening like she could see right through the act. I tried to say something cool, something that wouldn't make me sound like a five-year-old left at daycare.

Instead, I blurted: "Can you not go?"

She blinked. Then smirked. "You miss me already?"

"You haven't even left yet."

She stood on her toes and kissed my cheek, whispering, "Text me every hour."

"You know I will."

The door closed behind her.

I stood there for a long time, pretending I had things to do. Then I ended up in our room, lying on her side of the bed, scrolling through our wedding pictures like a sad puppy.

God, I was down bad.

on other side,

Author's POV

The temple bells rang in the distance, but in the old bungalow's inner room, everything was hushed. Too still.

The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from a brass lamp flickering faintly on the table, casting shadows across Deepthi's mother's face, Kamini Aurora soft and calm, like she wasn't talking about hurting someone.

Deepthi paced slowly across the room, arms folded, restless.
"She just won't go away, Ma. No matter what I do. Amaan's obsessed with her."

Her mother, Rekha, didn't look up from the thread of jasmine she was weaving. Her voice was low, even.

"Then we make it so she can't stay."

Deepthi stopped pacing. "You mean...?"

Rekha finally met her eyes.

"You want your place back, don't you? In that house. In that family. With Amaan?"

Deepthi nodded, slowly.

Rekha tied off the garland and placed it aside. Then, with the same ease as offering tea, she said:

"I hope you got what I said"

"Your grandmother's jewelry should have been yours. Amaan's inheritance. That house. But your uncle gave you nothing. Now you're lucky he even lets us stay there. You deserve more, Deepthi. And I won't let anyone take it from you."

Deepthi's lips curled into a smile the first real one in days.

"Thank you, Ma."

Rekha touched her cheek gently. "Don't thank me, beta. Just don't fail."

Isha's POV

It was just one night.

That's what I kept telling myself and Amaan. One night back at home, with my parents, my room, my old bed. Familiar walls, familiar sounds. Nothing complicated.

But as I zipped up my little overnight bag, I felt like I was tearing something. Like a thread was tugging at me from behind, and every step away from it was going to hurt.

Amaan was standing there in the doorway, pretending not to be sulking. Keyword: pretending. He was doing that thing where his arms are crossed but his heart is wide open.

"You're not even taking your charger," he mumbled.

I smiled. God, he was cute when he was dramatic.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," I said gently.

"Still. What if your phone dies in the middle of the night and you can't call me because you forgot your charger?"

I wanted to tease him, but honestly, I was going to miss him too. The house, his family, our room all of it had started feeling like home shockingly fast. Like I had moved in with my entire heart.

I kissed his cheek at the door and whispered, "Text me every hour."

He nodded. "You know I will."

And then I left.

The ride back to my parents' place was quiet. Streets I used to know so well suddenly looked unfamiliar. Or maybe it was me that had changed. Maybe I wasn't looking at them the same way anymore.

After I came back to the Home

As soon as I stepped inside, my mom pulled me into a hug so tight I forgot to breathe for a second. My dad stood behind her, trying to hide his misty eyes with a gruff "Aao, beta." My bestie looked like she is checking whether I'm alright or not. she teased me about how I looked "different now" but I knew what she meant.

I wasn't just visiting. I was coming back from another world.

They asked me how Amaan was, how the rasoi went, what I cooked, what I wore, what his mom was like. I answered everything with a smile, but part of my mind was somewhere else probably sitting on his side of the bed, being dramatic and missing me.

My room was the same. My posters, my old books, my ridiculous soft toy collection. But something about it felt smaller. Like I didn't quite fit into it anymore.

Later that evening, I lay on my bed with my phone in hand. Amaan had already texted me three times.

Amaan: Are you there yet? Did they feed you yet? Do they ask about me?

I laughed, fingers flying.

Me: Yes. Yes. And yes. Also, Mom made aloo parathas. You're missing out.

Amaan: *You're missing me."

I didn't answer that one right away.

Because he was right.

I was already counting the hours until I went back.

After stop texting him, I went out after freshening up and we all talked and Nisha's teasing's then the time came for dinner, and we had it all together then Nisha left for her home as her mom will get worried.

The house had gone quiet. Mom and Dad were asleep. Nisha went to her home. I was lying in my old bed, staring at the ceiling, the glow of my phone the only light in the room.

I missed him. I missed our room. I missed how he tossed his t-shirts on that one chair like he was allergic to hangers. I missed him teasing me and those playful giggles. 

My phone buzzed.

Amaan: Are you sleeping?

Me: Was trying. Mind won't shut up.

Amaan: Same. Wanna talk?

I didn't even bother typing back. I just hit call.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," I said, my voice softer than usual.

"Hi," he said, and I could hear the smile. "Are they treating you, okay? No one's kidnapped you and replaced you with a robot yet?"

"Nope. But Mom keeps feeding me like I haven't eaten in months. And Nisha already asked me five times if you snore."

"I don't snore."

"You do, Amaan."

A pause.

"I miss your voice," he said suddenly.

I bit my lip. The butterflies were back, loud and fluttery.

"I miss your dramatic sighs."

"I don't sigh dramatically."

"You just did."

He laughed, low and sleepy. "Okay, maybe I do. But I can't help it. You're not here. The bed feels too big. The fan sounds different. Even the halwa leftovers aren't hitting the same."

"Wow. You're down bad."

"I know. But so are you."

"I know."

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, just breathing on the line like teenagers scared to hang up.

"Sleep now," I whispered.

"You hang up first."

I laughed. "We're really doing this?"

"Isha..."

"Okay, okay." I yawned. "Goodnight, husband."

"Goodnight, wife. Come back home fast."

Thank you for reading 😊

see you in the next chapter