Tarini barely registered the swift transition from the car to the airport's interior. She moved like a well-rehearsed actor, following the script of her life, as Kalu Singhji handed her the tickets with a respectful "Khamma Ghani" before retreating with the driver. As she settled into her plush business class seat, she might have felt a flicker of excitement that usually accompanied such luxury, but today was different. Today, the thrill was overshadowed by an unsettling weight in her chest.
This marked only her third time flying, and each journey had been a catalyst for three sixty degree in her life—transitions she had never been prepared for. Now, as she sat waiting for takeoff, a mild headache began to throb at her temples, a reminder of her empty stomach. In her haste to leave Suryakot, she had neglected breakfast, and the remnants of last night's dinner felt like a distant memory. She hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, with yesterday's lunch the only sustenance her body had seen.
The thought of hunger gnawed at her, amplifying her anxiety. It was ironic that, while she flew high above the ground, her spirit felt grounded in the reality of her situation—hungry, overwhelmed, and uncertain of what lay ahead.
Peering out of the window, Tarini was greeted with a breathtaking view of the vast Thar Desert stretching out beneath us, its golden sands shimmering in the morning light. Jodhpur, the Blue City, slowly shrank away, its iconic blue houses blending into the landscape like a watercolor painting. The rugged terrain gave way to rolling hills and patches of greenery. Tarini watched as the patterns of Rajasthan unfolded below—fields of mustard flowers bursting with color, tiny villages dotted across the landscape, and the occasional glimpse of ancient forts standing sentinel against time.
Only then did she realize she had been asked to fuck off from Surykot Palace by her own husband. The events of last night had felt like a twisted nightmare—something she could shake off and wake up from, unharmed. But now, as the reality settled around her like a heavy shroud, she understood the gravity of her situation. Since that debacle, she hadn't heard or seen Devraj. His silence was like a weight pressing down on her chest, heightening her anxiety with each passing moment.
Sitting in the cramped airplane seat, the crash of thoughts tumbled through her mind. How would she get from Delhi to Gurgaon? She hadn't informed anyone about her early arrival. Should she text her father? But he might be in Chandigarh. Her mind raced to her mother-in-law, wondering if she could send someone with a car. The thought of enduring another flight was unbearable.
The flight attendant's cheerful voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "Would you like some snacks, ma'am?" Taranini husked a thanks, her throat too dry to swallow, and picked up an English sandwich. As she took a small bite, it felt like sandpaper sliding down her throat, but she forced herself to chew.
Time had slipped away from her in a haze. The moment the plane touched down, she hurried toward the washroom, desperate to escape the cacophony of her emotions. Once inside, she bent over the sink and emptied her stomach, the panic and dread from the flight erupting violently. She washed her face, splashing cold water over her cheeks, trying to wake herself up. The mirror reflected a tired, lost woman—dark circles under her eyes and hair tousled from the journey. Sobs threatened to escape, but she fought them back, splashing water once more on her face to avoid drawing attention from the other women in the washroom.
Blame the sandwich, she told herself, straightening up. She exited the washroom, clutching her phone. She hadn't texted anyone to fetch her, hadn't thought that far ahead. Maybe a cab to Gurgaon would do.
But just as she neared the airport exit, a voice boomed behind her."Mrs. Singh!"
She spun around to find a young man—barely more than a boy—standing there in a crisp shirt and trousers, looking more nervous than she felt. He couldn't have been more than 22, his energy awkwardly caught between eagerness and uncertainty.
"I was waiting for you up front. Shall we go, or would you like to rest? I can take you to the apartment if you prefer."
His tone was polite but his words rushed, tumbling over each other as if he wasn't sure how to speak to her.Devraj. Of course, he had sent someone. For a second, her heart softened at the gesture, but the thought of him soured the relief almost immediately. She wanted to be grateful, but she was too bitter, too hurt to process it.
"Gurgaon jaana hai," she muttered, brushing past the formality. The kid, still jolly despite her flat response, hurried to assist her with her bags. Tarini followed him, the weight of her emotions heavier than the luggage she carried.
Settling into the backseat of the car, Tarini sank into the butter-soft leather, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the smooth, dark stitching. The car—a sleek, charcoal-black Mercedes-Maybach—hummed with quiet power as it glided out of the airport. The polished wood panels, ambient lighting, and the faint scent of leather and luxury cocooned her in silence. It was the kind of car that spoke of status, wealth, and comfort—everything Devraj Singh stood for. Yet, sitting there, she felt none of it.
The irony of the moment wasn't lost on her. She had just been thrown out of Suryakot Palace, a place that should've been her home but had always felt foreign. Uninvited. Unwanted. The family, the staff—they never really looked at her as Devraj's wife. She was always "Mam," or worse, treated like some prestigious guest passing through, never quite a part of the household. The staff would never bow, neither there was warmth in their eyes, no sense of belonging. Even at family dinners, her seat at the table had felt like it was borrowed. She had been present but never included, her status as his wife more of a title on paper than a bond in the heart.
And now, back in Gurgaon, the difference hit her. Here, in this world of glass skyscrapers and rapid development, she was Mrs. Singh. That title carried weight. Here, people spoke her name with familiarity, with respect—even with pride, as if being Devraj's wife made her someone of importance, someone to be acknowledged. It wasn't just the formality of it; it was the way the everyone greeted her. Even the security guards at Villa saluted her like she was part of something greater. She wasn't just passing through here—she belonged.
She stared absentmindedly stared out of the tinted window. The contrast of Gurgaon and Los Angeles unfolded before her eyes. In LA, she had lived her prime years—a life filled with endless sunshine, sprawling beaches, and towering palm trees. There, the air was dry, the sky perpetually blue. Everything had been spread out and open, a city of dreams and reinvention. She had reinvented herself there, far from the shadow of her father's political Life.
But here, in Gurgaon, it was different. The skyline was a jagged mix of luxury towers and half-built apartments, a symbol of the city's relentless growth. The climate was harsher, the air thicker with dust and humidity. The vibrancy of LA had been replaced by the high-rises of Gurgaon, each more imposing than the last, the roads a constant blur of construction and chaos. Yet, in this chaos, she felt a strange sense of rootedness. Home in some odd way, felt closer here than it ever did in the palatial coldness of Suryakot.
She let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, the sleekness of the car a stark contrast to the mess of emotions she was wrestling with. As the car weaved through traffic, her reflection caught in the glass—the tired eyes, the worry lines creeping onto her forehead. She looked older than she remembered, as if the weight of the last few days had aged her.
Tarini glanced up at the driver in the front seat— barely older than a boy, who was clearly nervous yet trying his best to appear professional.
She pressed her head back against the seat, letting the gentle hum of the car's engine soothe her. The contrast between the worlds she had inhabited was sharper than ever now.
Tarini's eyes wandered absently around the interior of the car until they landed on the young man's wrist, catching the glint of an expensive timepiece—a Patek Philippe, if she wasn't mistaken. A small smile tugged at her lips. Curious, she thought. He was too young to carry something so extravagant with such nonchalance. Eventually, her curiosity got the best of her.
"Nice watch," she said, raising an eyebrow, the hint of amusement clear in her voice.
The boy's face turned the color of ripe strawberries as he glanced back at her through the rearview mirror.
He cleared his throat, visibly flustered, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. "Oh, uh, thank you, ma'am... I mean, Mrs. Singh," he stammered, blushing furiously. "It was a gift from my dad when I joined Devraj bhai's team. I just started last week."
That piqued her interest even more. "Devraj's team?" She tilted her head, trying to reconcile the image of the young, awkward man in front of her with someone who worked directly for her stoic husband. "What exactly do you do?"
He beamed, the flush still coloring his cheeks but with newfound excitement now. "I'm his personal assistant. Just joined, actually."
He shifted in his seat, visibly thrilled that she'd asked. "My dad said this is how you start in life—learn from the best." He caught her curious, slightly confused expression in the rearview mirror and quickly added, "I'm planning to do my MBA at Stanford soon, but before that, I want to learn as much as I can from Devraj bhai. He's, well... he's the guy, isn't he?" His tone was full of youthful admiration, bordering on awe.
Tarini chuckled softly, both amused and touched by the boy's innocence. "You certainly picked a good mentor," she remarked, her voice smooth but her thoughts betraying a slight irony. Devraj, with all his intensity, hardly seemed the nurturing type. But perhaps for someone like Vansh, eager to prove himself, the aura of power was enough.
Vansh, still blushing from her attention, grew more relaxed as the conversation unfolded into a light, playful banter. "Do you know he never forgets anything? I once saw him juggle three meetings and still remind me of a phone call I missed!"
Tarini smiled, amused by the boy's earnestness. "That sounds like Devraj," she said, leaning back in her seat. "Efficient, intimidating, and impossible to keep up with."
"Exactly!" Vansh laughed, the sound easy and contagious. "I have a notebook just to keep track of things he casually mentions, like world domination is part of his weekly schedule."
Their quick exchange flowed naturally. Vansh's nervousness faded as they shared a moment of camaraderie, the barrier between boss's wife and eager assistant temporarily dissolving.
"Well, Vansh," Tarini said, her tone light but with a glint of humor, "I hope Learning from Devraj will either make you a force to be reckoned with or... drive you mad."
He laughed again, shaking his head. "I'm banking on the first option, Mrs. Singh." His grin was wide now, his earlier blush forgotten.
As the car sped on, the tension in Tarini's shoulders eased slightly. Vansh's bright enthusiasm was refreshing, a welcome distraction from the heavy thoughts that had weighed her down. For a moment, she allowed herself to be caught up in this distraction, the seriousness of the past few hours dissolving into the background.
As they left the outskirts of Gurgaon behind, the urban sprawl slowly gave way to the serene, untamed beauty of the countryside. Vansh's words still echoed in her mind: "Everyone from the Sangwan family is at their estate in Sukhana." Without hesitation, Tarini had asked if they could go there too, her voice steady with determination. Vansh, with a slight nod, agreed, steering the car towards Sukhana.
The journey began to unfold like a painting coming to life. April had cast its golden glow on the landscape, and the fields on either side of the road stretched endlessly, a vivid green bordered by the rugged backdrop of the Aravalli hills. The air outside seemed fresher, crisper, as they drove deeper into rural Haryana.
Occasionally, they passed by small clusters of mud-brick houses, their thatched roofs and earthen walls blending harmoniously into the earth around them.
The Aravalli range loomed in the distance, its rocky ridges casting long shadows over the plains. Tarini couldn't help but feel a pull towards those ancient hills. The road twisted gently, guiding them through stretches of lush greenery interspersed with patches of dry land where nature battled to retain its color in the heat.
As the car swayed gently along the winding roads towards Sukhana, Tarini's thoughts began to drift, replaying memories she wished she could erase. She remembered the day, not too long ago, when she first realized where Devraj's heart truly lay.
Devraj had spoken of Suryakot—his mother's ancestral home—with a reverence she hadn't expected. His words, casual but deeply meaningful, painted Suryakot not just as a place but as a sanctuary, the pulse of his identity. Suryakot was more than just a grand Palace — it was his home. Not Gurgaon, not the Sangwan estate in Sukhana.
Tarini remembered sitting across from him, stunned by the revelation. She had always assumed that their life together would center around Gurgaon, where his responsibilities lay, where the family business flourished. But when he spoke of Suryakot, it was as if Gurgaon faded into the background, like a mere obligation.
That realization had sparked something in her—a yearning to belong, too. She had decided, perhaps naively, that if Suryakot was Devraj's true home, then she would make it her home as well. She envisioned a future there, alongside him. She pictured herself blending into his world. It seemed like a perfect solution—a way to bind them closer together, in a place that held so much of his heart.
But as the days passed, Tarini began to realize how wrong she had been. Her dream of making Suryakot her abode was an illusion, one that crumbled the moment she was confronted with the reality of her marriage. Devraj might have loved Suryakot, but that love didn't extend to their life together. The palace, with its ancient walls and royal heritage, stood tall and proud, but it didn't welcome her. Not the way she had hoped. It was as if the very place that held Devraj's heart had shut its doors to her.
The truth stung more than she cared to admit. Suryakot wasn't her home, and perhaps, it never would be. Devraj's world, felt foreign to her, no matter how much she tried to belong. And in that growing distance, she realized the hardest part of all: home wasn't just a place, it was a person. And somewhere along the way, she had lost that person in Devraj.
Now, as the car rolled through the quiet lanes of Sukhana, the weight of that realization pressed down on her again, heavier than before. Suryakot had seemed so close once, like the perfect solution. But now it felt distant—so far away, like Devraj himself. She had been wrong about many things, but none more than the belief that she could anchor her life in his, simply by stepping into the palace he cherished.
As they approached Sukhana, the landscape began to shift again—fields turned into orchards, and the land became more cultivated, a sign of the old estates that lay ahead. The Sangwan estate was nestled in the heart of this fertile region, its grandeur hidden beneath the canopy of trees. Its grand facade, adorned with intricate jali work, reflects the family's rich legacy. Fragrant mango and guava trees surround the estate, while the majestic Aravalli hills provide a breathtaking backdrop. As the sun sets, the estate glows warmly, casting long shadows.
As soon as the car came to a halt at the grand entrance of the Sangwan estate, Tarini was welcomed by the staff, their hands folded in respect. She felt an immediate sense of relief, especially as she glanced down at her saree. Traditional yet elegant—perfect for her grandmother-in-law's delight. Had she worn anything else, she could already imagine the sharp gaze and clipped remarks that would have followed. Today, at least, she had one less thing to worry about.
From where she stood, she could see everyone gathered in the garden. Laughter and chatter floated through the air, a stark contrast to the tiredness and exhaustion that had weighed on her during the journey. A brief thought crossed her mind to greet everyone right away, eager to immerse herself in the warmth of family. But before she could take a step, a familiar voice halted her.
" Rest for a while before you meet everyone," came Sunanda's gentle, persuasive tone. Her mother-in-law appeared by her side, radiating warmth as she reached out to touch Tarini's arm. The years had been kind to Sunanda, her serene expression always calm, a motherly grace about her that Tarini admired. It was as if nothing could ever ruffle her. And now, standing here with Sunanda, the distance between her and the rest of the family felt more manageable.
The moment Tarini saw her mother-in-law, all formalities dissolved. She moved toward her, embracing her tightly. The hug was firm, affectionate, and grounding—an anchor Tarini hadn't realized she needed until now. Sunanda's arms wrapped around her in return.
"I missed you," Tarini whispered into her shoulder, the words escaping before she could stop them. She felt like a child again, seeking solace in the embrace of someone who understood, without words, the chaos brewing inside her.
Sunanda smiled, pulling back slightly to look at her, her eyes filled with affection. "You've been away too long. It's good to have you back," she said softly, her voice like a balm over Tarini's frazzled nerves.
Before Tarini could protest or insist on joining the others, Sunanda whisked her away, her arm gently guiding her towards the grand staircase that led to her room. "No arguments," she added with a playful wink, sensing Tarini's resistance. "You'll meet them all in good time. But for now, you rest."
Tarini allowed herself to be led, feeling a mixture of warmth and gratitude. As she reached her room, Tarini glanced out of the window and caught a glimpse of the garden once more. The laughter continued, a gentle reminder of the family waiting below.
In the heart of the Sangwan estate, the dining table was a tapestry woven with the rich threads of tradition and modernity, each thread telling its own story. Daddoo, with his distinguished air, sported a classic Haryana attire—a crisp white kurta paired with a fitted dhoti that spoke of both dignity and heritage. His well-groomed white mustache danced with life as he shared anecdotes from his youth, the twinkle in his eye reflecting the mischief of a man who had seen the world but remained anchored in his roots.
Beside him sat Dadi, a stunning embodiment of grace who hailed from Gujarat. Clad in a vibrant Haryana salwar kameez, she wore it with the effortless elegance of a woman who understood the art of blending cultures.
Virender, sat across the table, his demeanor a blend of authority and warmth, while Sunanda, his second wife, added a splash of color to the setting with her lively attire.
As the aroma of home-cooked delicacies wafted through the air, Daddoo leaned in, recounting a childhood escapade that had the room bursting into laughter. "You see," he began, his eyes dancing with nostalgia, "there was a time when I tried to impress your Dadi by showing off my horse-riding skills. Let's just say the horse had other plans!"
Dadi chuckled, her eyes sparkling with the memory. "And I almost lost my chance to marry you that day! The villagers had quite the show!"
In this vibrant gathering, Tarini felt the warmth of familial love enveloping her like a cozy shawl.
It had been a few weeks since Tarini returned to the Sangwan estate, and she had immersed herself in the warmth and camaraderie of family life.
However, just as she was settling into this blissful rhythm, she fell ill. Sunanda, ever the vigilant mother, fretted over her, insisting on herbal remedies and homemade soups, her love evident in every meal. Tarini, on the other hand, tried to shrug it off with a lighthearted complaint about the sandwich she had eaten on her journey back from Jodhpur. But as the days passed and her health didn't improve, Sunanda's worry deepened.
"We should call the doctor," Sunanda insisted one evening, her voice tinged with concern as she stirred a pot of her famous khichdi, its comforting aroma wafting through the kitchen.
"No, no, I'm fine, really!" Tarini protested, forcing a smile. But deep down, she knew she wasn't quite herself. The thought of a doctor visiting the estate felt too intrusive, too formal. Instead, she had another idea.
That afternoon, as Tarini and Abhay lounged under the shade of a sprawling tree in the garden, she couldn't help but recall how easily she had befriended Devraj's Younger brother. It had taken just a few coffee cups and shared laughs for her to peel away the layers of his reserved exterior. Abhay, with his hard-built frame clad in crisp shirts and well-fitted trousers, was an intriguing mix of laid-back charm and quiet seriousness.
With the gentle rustling of leaves around them and the warmth of the sun filtering through the branches, she turned to him, finding him lounging comfortably under the tree, his gaze fixed on the pages of his book. Tarini felt a sudden urge for a change of scenery and decided to voice her thoughts.
"Hey, Abhay," she said, her voice light yet firm. "Do you think you could take me with you to Gurgaon? Just for a change of scenery? I could use some fresh air, and maybe I can get a check-up there instead."
Abhay looked up from his book, a flicker of interest crossing his otherwise stoic face. He nodded slowly, as if considering the request, before responding in his usual measured tone "You want to go all the way to Gurgaon just to avoid a doctor here?"
Tarini shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Exactly. It'll be an adventure. Plus, I promise I'll only get a check-up. You can help me find the best café after, and I'll treat you to coffee."
Abhay chuckled, the lightheartedness of her proposal breaking the tension. "Alright, you drive a hard bargain. Coffee it is. But you owe me a proper sandwich for this, too."
As Tarini sat on the balcony of her room at night in the Sangwan Estate, gazing out at the sprawling fields that stretched toward the horizon, Devraj felt like a ghost haunting her thoughts. She couldn't shake the feeling of his absence, a weight that pressed heavily on her chest. Devraj was still in Jodhpur, ensnared by the weight of responsibilities. Days had turned into weeks without a word between them, and Tarini's heart ached with unspoken words. Each time she thought about contacting him, doubt clawed at her resolve. What would she say? How could she confront the disappointment that hung between them like a thick fog?
Strangely enough, no one in their families seemed to find this silence odd. Perhaps they were all too entangled in their own lives to notice the gap widening between her and Devraj.
It was a typical afternoon when Abhay dropped Tarini at the hospital for her check-up, promising he would be back in two hours after attending a meeting at headquarters. "Just a routine check-up," She assured him, unaware of the tempest brewing inside her. As he waved her off and drove away.
As the sun streamed through the hospital windows, bathing the sterile room in a warm glow, Tarini sat on the examination table, her heart racing. The doctor, a kind-faced woman in her forties with a no-nonsense demeanor, adjusted her glasses and glanced at the clipboard with an expression that slowly shifted from professional to concerned.
"Tarini," she began gently, "the results are in. You're approximately twelve weeks pregnant."
The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal, as Tarini's mind raced to catch up. Twelve weeks? Three months? It felt like a foreign language, each number ringing in her ears like an alarm she couldn't silence. She struggled to process the reality, a whirlwind of shock and confusion swirling within her.
"Three months? But I didn't even realize…" Tarini stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "My cycles have been so irregular. I thought…"
The doctor frowned slightly, a hint of empathy shining through her professionalism. "I understand, but it's quite common for women to overlook the signs, especially if their periods are uneven. Have you experienced any other symptoms?"
Tarini shook her head, grappling with the news. Frightening thoughts raced through her mind: How could she have missed this? What did it mean for her, for Devraj? She felt a rising tide of anxiety, the fear of the unknown crashing over her like waves against a rocky shore.
"You're in your first trimester," the doctor continued, her tone softening. "It's crucial that you take care of yourself. I can help guide you through this. We'll schedule regular check-ups."
Tarini could only nod, her mind a haze of emotions. She was torn between elation and dread—how could she embrace the idea of becoming a mother when uncertainty loomed so large? The thought of sharing this news with Devraj, swirled in her mind. Would he be supportive? Would he be angry?
"What if he doesn't want this?" she whispered, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her chest.
As she left the office, Tarini felt a storm brewing inside her—a chaotic mix of joy and fear. She walked down the hallway, the stark white walls closing in around her. Three months pregnant. How had she let it come to this? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but deep down, a flicker of hope ignited. Perhaps this was a new beginning, a chance for something beautiful. Yet, that flicker was dimmed by the shadows of her anxiety.
As she clutched the small ultrasound , a tangible reminder of what was to come, she felt a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through her veins. It was a moment that would change everything, and she was left standing at the precipice, unsure of what awaited her on the other side.