Roshni’s mornings no longer began with peace.

They began with hope.

Every day, she woke up before sunrise—not because she had to, but because she wanted to. With Reva’s gentle guidance, she prepared breakfast for her husband, carefully making sure everything was perfect. Every small detail mattered to her now.

After that, she quietly entered the room.

She took Aman’s clothes out of the cupboard, arranged them neatly. His watch, wallet, and phone were placed exactly where he could find them easily—just the way he liked.

When Aman stepped out after his shower, he stopped for a moment.

This had become routine… yet it still surprised him.

His eyes automatically searched for her.

Roshni stood in front of him, hands folded nervously, her face tired but hopeful.

He didn’t say anything.

Ignoring her, he moved to get ready.

Standing before the mirror, Aman fastened his watch. His eyes, however, were not on himself—but on her reflection.

She was watching him silently, sadness swimming in her eyes.

Gathering courage, Roshni spoke softly.

“G-good morning…”

There was a pause.

Then, without turning—

“Hm. Morning,” Aman replied flatly.

He walked out.

Roshni followed him quickly.

At breakfast, she served him herself and stood beside him, waiting—hoping—for even one word.

He looked at her once. Roshni asked with her eyes, How is the food?

Aman said nothing. He started eating.

Her heart sank.

After finishing, he stood up and began to leave.

“Mr. Mehra…” she called softly.

He turned.

“What?”

“Come… home early.”

His face remained unreadable.

“Anything else?”

She shook her head. He left.

That night, the house fell asleep—but Roshni didn’t.

She sat alone in the hall, fighting sleep, waiting.

When Aman finally returned late from work, he found her there—eyes heavy, body exhausted.

“Roshni.”

She looked up immediately.

“You’re back… I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“For dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

And he walked away.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

A month passed like this.

Aman took care of her in every way—silently.

He made sure she was safe, comfortable, protected.

But he didn’t talk to her.

That silence hurt more than anger ever could.

Without realizing it, Roshni had started noticing him. His calm nature. His discipline. His care. Slowly, unknowingly, her heart was beginning to accept him.

The family noticed her efforts. Her parents were relieved.

But nothing changed between husband and wife.

Elsewhere, Sheela was burning with frustration.

When she called Anil, Sunita answered instead.

The moment Sunita heard Sheela’s voice, her breath hitched.

“Why did you call?” Sunita asked, trembling.

“You know why,” Sheela replied coldly.

“Give the phone to your husband.”

“He’s not here. And remember—he’s like your brother. Speak respectfully.”

“I have no relationship with either of you,” Sheela snapped.

“Then why call?”

“I want what’s mine.”

“Don’t even think about it. Roshni is our daughter.”

Sheela laughed darkly.

“Tell her the truth yourself… or I will.”

“I am her real mother.”

Sunita cut the call with shaking hands.

Sheela clenched her fists.

Roshni isn’t happy in her marriage…

I’ll meet her myself.

That evening, the family sat together.

“Aman, are you sure you want to go?” Raghav asked.

“Yes.” aman

“You’ll be gone for fifteen days,” Ahana added.

Roshni froze.

Fifteen days?

And no one told her?

Tears filled her eyes.

“Mamu, where are you going?” Sweety asked innocently.

Aman lifted her into his arms.

“To Dubai.”

“What will you bring me?”

“Chocolates and a doll,” they said together.

Aman glanced at Roshni.

Her eyes were red.

She ran to the room.

“She felt bad,” Ahana whispered.

Aman stayed silent.

That night, Aman packed.

Roshni came out of the washroom and stopped him.

“I’ll do it… you rest.”

She packed quietly.

He watched her, waiting.

“You’re more understanding than me,” she said nervously.

“You tell people only what’s important… so it wasn’t important to tell me.”

She finished packing and stood before him.

“Maybe you forgot,” Aman said slowly,

“we haven’t talked for a month.”

“It’s not me,” she whispered.

“You stopped talking.”

“You know why.”

Tears spilled over.

“I’m trying,” she cried.

“But you ignore me… it feels suffocating.”

She broke down completely.

Aman couldn’t bear it.

He pulled her into his arms.

She clutched his shirt, her face pressed against his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

Their hearts beat wildly—together.

He

stroked her hair gently.

When she finally calmed, she still didn’t let go.

Aman smiled faintly.

“Then tell me,” he teased softly,

“why does my behavior hurt you… if you don’t love me?”

Roshni looked up at him, confused, tearful.

She had no answer.

She only knew one thing—

His silence hurt because somewhere… unknowingly…

He mattered.