"Take care of it."
"I intend to." Samarth picked up the documents. "Also, regarding the boundaries around our marriage—thecomparisons, the snubs, the access others have been given to decisions that belong to us—that ends."
Raghbir raised an eyebrow.
"I should have said it the day we married," Samarth continued. "I didn't. I'm saying it now. Nimisha is my wife. Her position in this family is primary. Any behavior that undermines that—from anyone—ends."
His father looked at him for a long moment.
"I'll speak to your mother," he said.
"I'll speak to my mother," Samarth replied. "She needs to hear it from me."
Saroj's Sitting Room - That Afternoon
He found his mother with her tea and her embroidery, the image of domestic composure, and sat across from her without being invited.
She looked up, reading his face with the accuracy of someone who had known him his entire life.
"I owe Nimisha an apology," she said, before he could speak.
He waited.
"I know I do," Saroj continued, setting down her embroidery. "I've known it for some time. I told myself I was protecting you—that I was keeping space for the possibility that things could be different, that Kritika—" She stopped. "I was wrong. And I was unkind to a girl who deserved neither."
"You were," he said. Not cruelly. Just honestly.
"I'll fix it."
"You will," he agreed. "And Maa—" He leaned forward, his voice gentle but absolute. "The comparisons stop. The suggestions about who I should have married stop. The snubs, the exclusion, the subtle ways you've made her feel like a guest in her own home—all of it stops."
Saroj pressed her lips together.
"She's your daughter-in-law," Samarth said. "She's been your daughter-in-law for over a year. She's going to be your daughter-in-law for the rest of your life. And she's—" He paused. "She's the person I love. That should be sufficient. But if it's not, know this: I will always choose her. Without hesitation. I should have made that clear from the beginning."
His mother looked at him for a long moment.
Then she exhaled. "Bring her for tea tomorrow," she said quietly. "Just us."
"I'll tell her."
"I'll make her favorite," Saroj added. "Whatever that is."
"Anything with chocolate," Samarth said, standing. "And the butter biscuits from Bhika Ram's."
He left his mother sitting with her embroidery and the expression of a woman quietly rearranging her understanding of things.
Two Days Later - Morning
Nimisha was at her desk when Samarth appeared in the doorway with an expression she'd learned to identify as him trying not to show excitement, which he was very bad at concealing from her now that she knew what to look for.
"Pack a bag," he said.
She looked up. "For what?"
"Two weeks."
"Two weeks where?"
