"Mummaa… luk at the brd!" Avu tapped my chin, snapping me out of my reverie. We were sitting on the balcony, him curled up in my lap while I gazed blankly at the horizon.
"That’s a parrot, Avuuu," I replied, kissing his soft head. He nodded with an impish grin.
"I knwww!" he said, his mischievous eyes sparkling, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at my little bean.
"Achaaa, my Avuuu knows everything, huh?" I teased, tickling him gently. He burst into melodious laughter, the kind that momentarily washed away all my sorrows.
But the ache inside me lingered, refusing to let go. I should feel relieved after the divorce. People say it’s a new beginning, a fresh start. But happiness… it seems to have forgotten its way to me.
Every time I try to focus on something positive, something else crumbles.
I sighed deeply, stealing a glance at Avu, who was now playing with a loose thread on my dupatta. His innocence brought me joy, but the weight of my fears never left. The thought of not being enough for him, of not being able to provide him with the life he deserves, gnawed at me constantly.
And then there’s the pressure to remarry. Each proposal only adds to my stress. The men are either indifferent to Avu or interested in me only as a caretaker for their own needs.
"Mummaa, hunglyyy!" Avu’s small voice pulled me back to reality. He snuggled into my chest, his warmth grounding me.
I wrapped my arms around him, wiping away a stray tear before it could betray me. "I’m not weak," I whispered to myself. "I am strong. I have my Avu. I can do anything for my baby."
Gathering my shattered self, I plastered a smile on my face and carried him to the kitchen. The house was unusually quiet today—Bhabhi had gone to her cousin’s wedding along with Bhai, Krish, and Kavya, while Maa was visiting a friend in the neighborhood.
For now, it was just Avu and me.
I made a cute little paratha for him, shaping it into a heart that made his face light up with delight. I poured myself a cup of tea and settled down beside him as he watched his favorite cartoon. Between bites, he enthusiastically narrated the plot, explaining the characters like a seasoned storyteller. I nodded along, smiling, grateful for this little miracle in my life.
After breakfast, I started cleaning the house. My little helper was right by my side, imitating me with a cloth in his tiny hands. His attempts to dust the furniture made me chuckle.
Later, Maa returned, looking tired but content. She updated me on Singh Aunty, her ailing friend, while chopping vegetables for dinner.
"Sanyu, I was thinking… maybe we should consult a good pandit and have your kundali checked," Maa said, breaking the silence.
I sighed, already anticipating this conversation as I heard her discussing it with Singh Aunty on call yesterday. "Maa, these things don’t really matter. Kundalis can’t guarantee that the person will be right for me. It’s just superstition."
"It’s not just superstition, beta," Maa replied patiently. "Grah and nakshatras have their impact too. What harm will it do to seek advice? At least it will give me some peace of mind."
I looked at her, noticing the lines of worry etched on her face.
"Mrs. Singh knows a very good astrologer," she added hesitantly, her voice soft. "I was thinking of visiting him tomorrow."
"So, you’ve already made up your mind?" I asked, narrowing my eyes playfully.
She smiled sheepishly, caught red-handed.
"Fine, Maa," I relented with a small laugh. "If it gives you some reassurance, go ahead."
She nodded, her expression relaxing. I let her take comfort in her beliefs. After all, she’s my mother, and I know how much the recent events have taken a toll on her.
As the evening rolled on, I watched Avu build towers with his blocks, his face lit with concentration. For now, his happiness was enough to keep me going. One day, I’d figure everything out. One day, we’d find the peace we both deserved.
---
The Next Day ,
Maa seemed unusually happy ever since she came back from meeting the astrologer. According to her, my future is bright—I’ll get married into a reputed family and find someone who will be ready to fight the world for me.
I didn’t comment, not wanting to burst her bubble, but deep down, I know my reality. The old Sanyukta, carefree and full of dreams, might have believed in such fantasies. But today, after all the lessons life has thrown at me, I know better than to dwell on such humorous notions.
I don’t seek support from any man anymore. My focus is on being self-sufficient—for myself and for Avu. He’s my son, my world, and I don’t need anyone else to shoulder that responsibility.
The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. I frowned, wondering who it could be at this hour. Maa and Avu were glued to their favorite TV serial, laughing at some dramatic scenes. The reminder of someone came to mind—a certain arrogant, air-headed man who never failed to ruin my mood.
But the moment I opened the door, my face lit up. “Bhaiiiiii!” I exclaimed, rushing to hug Pankaj Bhai. His laughter was infectious as he kissed the top of my head.
“Buaaaa!” A tiny voice squealed, and I turned to see little Prince struggling to get down from Nisha Bhabhi’s arms. I laughed and scooped him up, hugging him tightly.
“Aapne bataya kyu nahi aa rahe ho?” I asked Bhai as we entered the house. “Toh phir surprise kaise milta?” he teased, tweaking my nose, which annoyed me instantly.
Bhai then picked up Maa in his arms, making her laugh like a young girl. She lightly slapped his back, scolding him to put her down before he broke her bones.
“Avuuu, my little tiger!” Bhai called, planting loud kisses all over Avu’s face. Avu giggled, squirming under his affection.
“Look what I’ve got for you!” Bhai said, settling down between Avu and Prince. He pulled out a bunch of toys, chocolates, and books for them, earning excited squeals from both kids.
Bhai always adored Avu. In fact, he’d once insisted I move to Bengaluru with him so that he could help us start fresh, but I declined. Adjusting to a completely new city with Avu felt too overwhelming.
As the house buzzed with laughter, I prepared tea for everyone and milkshakes for the kids. Bhabhi excused herself, saying she was tired, and retreated to her room. While serving tea, Bhai looked at me closely. “Kaisi hai tu? Itni weak kyun ho gayi hai?” he asked with genuine concern. His words stirred something inside me, and tears welled up in my eyes.
I hated crying in front of people, but seeing him today, hearing his concern, broke the dam. Bhai always reminded me of Papa. “Sanyuuu, mere bacche… aa idhar,” he said, pulling me into his arms. I cried silently as he stroked my hair. “Ab toh sab theek hoga… Tu us jhoot-moot ke rishtay se azad ho gayi hai. Ab kyu rona? Tu abhi kitni young hai, beta. Puri zindagi padi hai tere liye.” His words gave me a strange comfort, but I knew he didn’t have the full picture.
If only he knew about the “proposals” I’d been getting, he’d have been livid.
The atmosphere at home transformed with their arrival. The kids ran around, filling the house with their giggles. Bhai sprawled on the sofa with his head in Maa’s lap, while I busied myself in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Later, everyone gathered at the table, except Bhabhi, who still complained of a headache and stayed in her room. After dinner, she came down briefly before retreating again. Her demeanor toward me was distant—not hostile like Pooja Bhabhi, but cold. She rarely interacted during her visits, often leaving for her parents' place with Prince.
Sudheer Bhai and his family returned from the wedding later that night . He was visibly happy to see Pankaj Bhai and Prince. As always, they’d already eaten outside, so I served them their usual milk.
It was during this time that Pooja Bhabhi decided to drop a bombshell. “Humari Sanyu ke liye ek rishta aaya hai,” she began, her voice laced with feigned sweetness. Everyone turned to her, startled. “Mummy ne hi proposal bheja hai,” she added proudly, glancing at Maa.
Before anyone could speak, Pankaj Bhai interjected. “Itni jaldi kya hai? Abhi toh usne apni zindagi ka ek bada chapter khatam kiya hai. Let her take her time.”
But Pooja wasn’t one to back down. “Pankaj, divorce abhi hua hai, par free toh woh 3 saal pehle hi ho chuki hai. Waise bhi abhi shaadi hogi toh Avu ko adjust karna easy rahega na… Abhi chhota hai.”
Her syrupy tone grated on my nerves as she added, “Mere sabse chhote Mama hai… Australia se abhi aaye hain. Divorce hua unka bhi, aur unki koi demand nahi hai. Avu ko lekar bhi unhe koi problem nahi.”
Her words were met with stunned silence until Sudheer Bhai, who rarely spoke, exploded.
“Tumhara dimag toh kharab nahi hai, Pooja?” he thundered, glaring at her. “You want Sanyu to marry a man in his forties? Soch samajh ke bola karo kuch! She is too young for that so-called Mama of yours. Aur maine kab kaha tha tumse ki apni advice do? Stay out of it!”
The room fell silent. Bhabhi’s face flushed with embarrassment as she retreated to her room without another word. Maa gave me a faint smile, and I nodded, silently assuring her that I was fine.
Later that night, I tucked Avu into bed and lay beside him, watching his tiny chest rise and fall. My thoughts wandered to the future—uncertain, daunting, but mine to shape.
Sleep finally took over as I decided that tomorrow would be a new day, one step closer to reclaiming my dreams.
Ranvijay pov.....
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, the only sound in my office apart from the rustling of papers.
The file labeled "Sahil vs Singh Family" lay open before me, each page filled with the grim details of a young man’s murder. Sahil. Just 23. A boy who had dreams of building a life, crushed under the weight of someone else’s so-called "honor."
I flipped through the file, my mind piecing together the fragments. The autopsy report, the allegations against Prashant Singh, the silent whispers pointing to Udey Singh’s involvement—it all pointed to one thing: this wasn’t just a crime. It was a message. And now, it was my turn to reply.
Satyam walked in, balancing two steaming cups of tea. He placed one near my elbow and sank into the chair across from me, his usual smirk in place.
"Abhi bhi jag rahe hai , sir ?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
I didn’t look up. "Kabhi suna hai sher ne jungle chhod diya kyunki usse neend aa rahi thi?"
Satyam chuckled. "Toh sher Ranvijay ji, kaunse shikaar ki taiyaari ho rahi hai?"
I glanced at him, my voice sharpening. "Sahil. Ek 23 saal ka ladka. Intelligent, hardworking. Apne maa-baap ka eklauta sahaara. He loved Maansi. Aur iski sazaa mein usse qatl kar diya gaya. Pyaar karna bhi gunaah hi hai , Satyam?"
Satyam’s smirk faded. "Singh family ka naam suna hai. Heavyweights hain. Udey Singh politics mein hai. Kya lagta hai, case ke andar ghusne ka chance milega?"
I leaned back in my chair, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. "Chance lena padega. Agar justice ko politics aur power ke samne jhukne diya, toh courtroom ka matlab hi khatam ho jayega."
He nodded, but concern lingered in his eyes. "Par yeh honor killing ka case hai. Sensitive hoga. Media circus, public outrage—sab kuch hoga."
"Good," I said, my tone cutting. "Circus toh Singh family ka hoga. Main rassi kheenchne ke liye tayaar hoon."
Proof milna aasaan nahi hoga. Singh family has resources. They'll bury evidence faster than you can blink....Satyam pointed out .
Agar unhone evidence zameen mein daba diya hai, toh main zameen khod dunga. Satyam, log samajhte hain ki courtroom mein jeet sirf shabdon se hoti hai, par asal jeet hoti hai research aur strategy se....I said playing with the paper weight.
Satyam leaned forward, the fire in my voice sparking his curiosity. "Toh kya strategy hai?"
I picked up the autopsy report and tapped it with my pen.
"Step one: autopsy. Murder ke scene ka forensic analysis toh cover-up ho chuka hoga, but the body doesn’t lie. Sahil ke injuries humein us raat ki kahani batayenge."
"And witnesses?"
"Maansi." Her name came out like a challenge. "She’s the key. Agar usne dekha hai ki uske bhai aur uncle ne Sahil ko maara, toh woh meri star witness banegi. Problem yeh hai ki woh apni family ke against bolne se dar rahi hogi."
"Kya lagta hai vo bolegi" ....Satyam asked .
Everyone has a weak point..I looked at Satyam and continued with a smirk . "Har insaan ke andar ek guilt hoti hai, Satyam. Us guilt ko bahar nikalna ek lawyer ki skill hoti hai. Maansi ko samajhna hoga ki uski khamoshi uske pyaar ki maut ke barabar hai."
"And if she doesn’t speak?" satyam frowned.
"Toh unki family bolegi," I said, my voice sharp as steel. "Prashant Singh ke phone records, Udey Singh ka financial trail, servants ka schedule—sab kuch check hoga. Mujhe bas ek chhoti si thread chahiye, aur main poore kapde ko khol dunga."
Satyam leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. "Kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki aap courtroom mein nahi, chessboard pe khelte ho."
I stood up, pacing the room as my thoughts churned. "Satyam, yeh ek game hi hai, aur main king ke peeche nahi bhaagta. Main board ulat deta hoon."
Just then, the door creaked open, and Sukhbir Singh and Rajbala walked in. The grief etched on their faces was enough to silence the room. They sat before me, clutching each other’s hands, their eyes hollow but filled with hope.
"Ranvijay ji," Sukhbir began, his voice trembling, "humare Sahil ke liye insaaf chahiye. Woh hamara sab kuch tha."
I placed a hand on his shoulder, my resolve hardening. "Sukhbir ji, jo Sahil ke saath hua, uske zimmedar log jail ke peeche honge. Yeh mera waada hai."
I met her tearful gaze, my voice unwavering. "Rajbala ji, taakatwar woh nahi hote jo power aur paisa leke chalte hain. Taakatwar woh hote hain jo sach ke saath khade hote hain. Aur mere saath aapka dukh, Sahil ka sacrifice, aur insaaf ki ladai hai. Hum yeh case jeetenge."
They left with a flicker of hope in their eyes. As the door clicked shut, I turned to Satyam.
"This case isn’t just about Sahil," I said, my voice low but firm. "It’s about every Maansi and Sahil who think love can survive in a world ruled by caste and power. Kahi na kahi, kisi ko toh yeh message dena hoga ki justice still exists."
Satyam grinned, the fire in my words lighting up his own. "Toh shuru karte hain, Sir. Singh family ke ‘power’ ka torch bujhane ka time aa gaya hai."
I nodded, turning back to the file. The details were blurry, the evidence scarce, and the opponents formidable. But none of it mattered.
This wasn’t just a case—it was a battle. And I had no intention of losing it .
....
How's it ... Apna Hero kesa laga ....
Also ...2 tarrif ke shabad Pyari Pooja ji ke liye bhi 😌😌😌💀
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