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"There is nothing a man cannot achieve if he puts his complete dedication into it."

Achintya believes in that. He will always be the kind of person who, by any means, will not kneel before a situation but will make it bend to his will.

_

Achintya's daily college visits had taken a backseat as the election fast approached. The preparation for rallies and the campaign rested on his shoulders. His father had entrusted him with the responsibility, and as always, Achintya was doing everything he could to make his father proud.

This meant sacrificing and chastising his own comfort and pleasures.

A week earlier, when his father had given him the responsibility for the campaign, Achintya thought, "This is it. The time when I will finally forget about her. She will soon be erased from my mind."

His body and mind became occupied with work. Politics consumed a large portion of his time. Traveling to different states, meeting politicians, devising strategies to sabotage the opposition—all of it tired him out.

But alas, the thought did not match reality.

Every night, when Achintya went to sleep—sometimes in his own bedroom, sometimes in the guest house where the funds were hidden, and sometimes even in warehouses because it got so late his bones ached—he would close his eyes and see those big eyes dancing in front of him, illuminated by the glow of a flashlight.

Achintya couldn’t understand it. He had been with other women before. For heaven’s sake, the girl wasn’t even that beautiful. He had seen women far more stunning than her.

And yet, she was the one who wouldn’t leave his mind.

When he closed his eyes, she was there. Looking at him with those big eyes, stealing glances and shying away just when he would catch her. Then, once the sun came up, his mood would sour at the thought that, yet again, he wouldn’t be able to catch a glimpse of her.

That his dreams were just that—dreams.

The thought infuriated him to no end.

_

It was a tradition in the Chaudhary family that Phulan Chaudhary himself would prepare Sunday dinner, and the whole family would eat together.

"What happened, Guddi bitiya?" Rukmani Devi asked.

"Nothing, Choti Amma... it's just that the people at college have finally lost their minds."

Achintya was lying on the khaat, his head in Durga Devi's lap. "Why so?" he heard Rukmani inquiring.

"Oh... where do I even begin—"

"What you're dying to tell, we already know, Guddi," Achintya lazily commented. He, like everyone else, was well aware of Guddi's dramatics.

"—you stay quiet!" Guddi glared. "The college has shifted the first-year class timings, Choti Amma. Now, we have to report at 7:45 a.m. sharp instead of the more relaxed 11 a.m."

The news caught his interest. Achintya sat up. "Every first-year? From every stream?" He had already done a background check on her—he wasn’t ashamed to admit that—and knew she was a first-year B.Sc. Microbiology student.

"No, only mine. I'm that special," Guddi replied sarcastically. After receiving his infamous glare, she meekly added, "Yes, every first-year, Bhai. Happy now?" She knew better than to make him angry. Being on Achintya's good side was beneficial for her, as he wasn't as strict as Mithilesh or as controlling as Vijay.

Achintya was cool, laid-back even. But he was dangerous—oh, so dangerous—when he got mad. Not that it happened often, and Guddi definitely didn’t want to be the cause of it.

_

That night, Achintya ate an extra portion of chicken curry and fish fry, his mind and heart floating on cloud nine.

_

Niyati’s world had turned upside down. It must have, surely.

Just a glimpse of him sent her heart racing, and now, here he was, standing in front of her in all his glory. And she… froze.

She could see his lips moving, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

He was in front of her, her dainty wrist caught in his larger one, his face—such a beautiful face—hovering above her. Niyati’s mind didn’t know what to do, how to do it, or why to do it.

Couldn't she just stand here and watch him all day? That would be enough for her.

More than enough.

But then he shook her, his grip tightening a bit, and suddenly, someone hissed.

Before Niyati knew it, the beautiful man had his hands covering one eye, hissing and swearing.

It was that sound that pulled her out of her stupor. “Fuck... f-uck... what was that? My eyes are burning! Water! Wa—”

Panicking, Niyati stared at him with wide eyes before remembering she had a water bottle in her bag. She hurriedly pulled it out and handed it to him, but when she saw he could barely see beyond his pain, she took matters into her own hands.

She opened the cap and poured water into her cupped hand. "Let me see... please, remove your hand... let me help," she coaxed. After much persuasion, he removed his hand, and she gently splashed water on his face and eyes.

“Don’t rub your eyes. Let me do it,” she said hurriedly. She carefully wet the corner of her dupatta and wiped his eyes with utmost care.

She was so busy taking care of him that she didn’t notice when Achintya had stopped hissing in pain. He was just standing there, bent over, hands clasped behind his back, his face lowered to let her reach him.

She barely brushed against his chin.

Niyati noticed it then. In the early morning light, without the noise of vehicles honking, she realized how silent he was. “Uhm... a-are you okay?”

The guilt in her voice was obvious. His eyes were red and looked extremely painful.

“Sorry... I thought you were someone else—a stranger—but no, I mean... I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say.” Her mouth rambled on. Despite the pain in his eyes, he chuckled.

“I should’ve expected that.”

“Yeah... you should’ve,” Niyati mumbled. Now that the shock had worn off, she became aware of their proximity. She took a step back and looked to the side.

Looking at him was too much. He was too intense, too intimidating. And he wasn’t even moving, just standing there with a smile on his lips.

“What... I didn’t catch that,” Achintya said, his eyes still burning like hell. The cool water had soothed the sting a little, but the pain was still unbearable.

He should probably see a doctor soon.

But he wasn’t leaving her here.

“It wasn’t meant to be heard,” Niyati mumbled. “I’m sorry again. I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t have done that otherwise.”

“Why? Aren’t I a stranger too? Do you know me?” Achintya teased. He was enjoying this way too much.

Her face turned toward his, their eyes locking for a second before she looked away again. It was exactly what she used to do whenever he came to pick up Guddi.

“Everyone knows you. If they don’t, they’re not normal, Mr. Chaudhary.” Damn, she knew how to talk back.

Achintya had a weakness for girls like her—ones who knew how to use their pretty mouths instead of staying quiet.

But Mr. Chaudhary? That title belonged to his father, uncle, or brother. Not him.

"That's a boring title. Call me by my name."

Niyati’s wide eyes flew to his, her mouth agape. What? Oh God... did this man just—

Okay, shut up, brain.

When she didn’t respond, Achintya frowned. “You with me?”

Yes, take me with you. Oh no.

It must have been the first time she’d ever been this speechless. She was never speechless.

“Uhm…” Very eloquent.

The sound of a vehicle broke the silence, and Niyati shrieked.

“Oh no... I’m late.” She checked her watch. It was 7:32. Even if she started walking now, she wouldn’t make it to college on time.

Attendance was usually taken fifteen minutes before class started.

Achintya was having too much fun, but the panic on her face made him feel... angry.

She shouldn’t be worried.

Watching her panic was amusing, but only when it was directed at him.

When it wasn’t, she shouldn’t have to feel any negative emotions.

“Should I drop you? We’ll be there in five minutes,” he offered. She looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Uhm... no, that’s fine. I’ll—thanks for the offer—but—uh—” Achintya looked at her, sensing she was trying to find the words to let him down gently.

He understood.

She was worried that if he dropped her off and someone saw them together, there’d be consequences.

“It’s fine. I’ll drop you a little away from the college. You can cover yourself with your dupatta,” he offered.

Niyati looked flabbergasted. It was a good offer. She couldn’t afford to be late.

Her course was demanding, and without coaching or mentoring—her grandmother had stomped on the idea, saying, “No need. If it’s too hard, change the course. No girl of mine will go to coaching or any nonsense place.” She also couldn’t afford to miss classes.

Rawat Sir, as strict as he was, was a good teacher, and his notes were invaluable.

She couldn’t count on Asha or Richa either—Richa’s handwriting was slow and messy, and Asha was entirely dependent on her. Expecting help from them was foolish.

“Will you be able to drive? I mean... your eyes?”

Achintya wanted to do a victory dance, but he controlled himself. He didn’t let the excitement show on his face. He knew he had won.

Slowly but surely, she was willing to walk the path he had chosen for her. For them.

“No worries. Your thinking took three minutes, so if you don’t want to be late... follow me.”

He turned, only to feel a soft hand touch his bicep. “Wait...” He turned back to her.

Niyati had her eyes fixed on the ground. A second or two passed before she took a deep breath.

She lifted one side of her dupatta, stood on her tiptoes, and gently wiped his face, drying it from the water that had just splashed over it.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Achintya wasn’t thinking about a woman in terms of physical pleasure—not her body or her curves—but rather...

...about her innocence and shyness. About the beautiful heart and soul she carried within her.

Achintya had fallen deeper into the hole, but he hadn’t realized it, yet.

_

The trip to the college was short—hardly more than two or three minutes.

Niyati finally heaved a sigh of relief as she hopped off the bike—a sportbike. This man drives like a maniac, she thought.

She had already been battling with a mix of fear and excitement, her heart pounding, but when he took a sharp turn without slowing down, her hands instinctively reached for him, clutching his shirt tightly.

It must have been the wind, but Niyati was sure she felt his back stiffen for a second.

It made her blush so much that she was certain if she were as fair as Shivangi or Maithili, she would have looked like a tomato.

Without looking at his face, she mumbled, "Thank you," and was about to rush towards the gates when she heard:

"Can we meet again?"

The question stopped her in her tracks. It made her jump out of her skin. What is he on about? she wondered. Meet again?

What?

More importantly, why?

Is he not aware of what would happen if anyone—anyone—in Begusarai saw them together? Achintya Chaudhary with some girl?

A blast—that’s what would happen.

In the days since she started gathering information about him (fine, yes, she was snooping around, asking Asha, Richa, and Shivangi for any possible news about him), she learned that Achintya Chaudhary was a household name in Begusarai.

From adults to teenagers to children, hardly anyone remained untouched by or unaware of the mighty Chaudhary legacy.

"Why?" The word slipped out of her lips before she could stop it.

The look he gave her was like she had asked for his kidney and liver.

"I mean… no, I mean… uh… bye, and thank you again. Do consult a doctor," she blurted and rushed off, leaving a gaping Achintya behind.

Did she agree or not?

___&__

Vijay was sitting in the garden of the guest house, his legs up on the table, cleaning his pistol when he saw him entering.

It soured his mood instantly.

Every time his eyes caught even a short glimpse of Achintya, they twitched with hatred.

This brought his attention to Achintya's eyes. They were swollen and red, the area around them looking irritated and painful.

"Look at that," Vijay whistled. It wasn't every day one saw Achintya in pain, and especially not like this.

"Whoever did this to you, tell me their name. I'm so going to send a thank-you card to them." Achintya stopped in his tracks, giving him a dead look.

Vijay was aware of this tactic.

When they were young, Vijay, who had always been insecure of Achintya—Achintya, the topper of the Chaudhary family, better in communication, with a charming personality, who played with brains rather than fists—the golden Achintya- Vijay would push him, burn his notes, or bully him along with his friends. But every time he thought he had finally made Achintya lose control, he would receive this look.

The look that said he was beneath Achintya. As if nothing could faze the superior, golden Achintya.

Like his name, he seemed beyond everyone's thinking—controlled over his surroundings, his thoughts, and his emotions.

Unlike Vijay, the wild and uncertain one. Vijay, who was never good with words, who could hardly socialize outside his small circle, who barely passed school and dropped out of college. Vijay, who never conquered any battle.

The insecure boy who was jealous of his brother, the insecure man who still harbored that feeling.

"Not in a hundred years," Achintya grumbled.

"What?" Vijay asked, not understanding what he meant.

Upon not getting an answer, Vijay grumbled back, "Whatever. I'm happy enough that you're in pain. I don't need more."

"Glad to know that finally, the day is here when my presence brings you happiness and not jealousy," Achintya retorted.

Before Vijay could answer back, Mithilesh's voice came from behind them, "Not here. Save your drama for home."

Vijay didn't even realize how close they had gotten; they were almost the same height, though he was an inch or two shorter.

"Aye, what happened to your eyes?" Mithilesh asked worriedly.

Vijay also wanted to know who this new person was, who could harm Achintya but escape unharmed.

There was no sign of a physical brawl on Achintya's body. He looked as prim and proper as he had left in the morning.

Vijay found it highly suspicious.

Also, the wound—if it was even that—did not look like one he had seen before.

"Nothing, bhaiya. Just an allergy. I'll be fine. Just some ice and proper rest for today, and tomorrow I'll be as good as new." Vijay scoffed. With the ease Achintya said that, one might believe it.

If only they weren't family.

Vijay had spent almost his whole life with Achintya, and even though that bastard didn't show his real emotions much, he showed enough for Vijay and Mithilesh to know he was lying.

His eyes looked extremely painful.

"Allergy, my foot. Who did this to you? Huh?! Even more importantly, how did this happen? It doesn’t look like a wound—what—what happened exactly?" Mithilesh yelled. That was his typical reaction to any trouble.

Achintya huffed a breath. "Relax, Bhaisahab. At this rate, you're going to worry us about your poor vocal cords." Before Mithilesh could retort, he continued, "It doesn’t look like a wound because it isn’t one. It’s an allergy. I went to the doctor; he confirmed that."

Mithilesh deflated a little. He grabbed his younger brother's chin and inspected it. It looked painful, with eyes watering and red and swollen. It didn’t look like a wound.

That was a relief. If someone had touched his brother, he surely would have wiped their whole bloodline.

Vijay shook his head. He was sure it was not an allergy. But he had no clue what it actually was. Definitely not an allergy.

Whatever it was, Vijay wished it hurt as much as it hurt him when people chose Achintya over him. Just so he knew the taste of the bitter medicine Vijay had been drinking since childhood.

&

Nupur was folding the dried clothes when she felt hands sneaking around her bare waist, and then her back collided with the sturdy chest.

"Hm..finally. Honey, I’m home," Mithilesh mumbled, his face hidden in the crook of her neck, inhaling the smell of citrus from her hair.

"Welcome home." Setting the clothes on the stool, Nupur turned in his embrace as his strong arms enveloped her fragile body completely.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, her hands on his chest, him pulling her as close as possible.

"How was your day?" Mithilesh asked gently, not wanting to disturb the peace between them.

As the eldest son and daughter-in-law of the family, they both held important roles. Finding time like this to spend together was always a rare opportunity.

Don’t get him wrong. He loved his role, his family, his children, and his work.

But was it too much to ask for some alone time, not as any of the above, but as a husband and wife?

"Good. But now that I'm here, in your arms, it just got better," she replied.

"Hm...how was Abhay and Laxu’s day? His days have become so busy that even spending time with his children has become sacred.

Creating a little space between them, Nupur looked at her husband. Her mysterious husband, who was demanding and hardly showed any emotion other than anger and irritation, who had a foul mouth and could hardly speak a sentence without cursing, who yelled and shouted without thinking of his vocal cords.

Her loving husband. Who would ask about her as well as their children’s day. Who would wake up early every morning just to spend some time with the children. Who would massage her feet after a hectic day and hold her in his embrace when things got tough for her.

Who did so much without asking for anything in return.

"They missed their Papa. Laxu kept her eyes stuck on the door every time it opened, and Abhay complained to Amma about how his Papa deserves a Sunday too, where he can play with his children." Mithilesh’s whole visage changed. A huge smile erupted on his face.

"Really? My children. Just this month, Nupur, once we settle and hide the election funds in the right places, my work will be done. Then it will all be Achintya’s responsibility."

He didn’t need to tell her these things. Mithilesh knew Nupur understood him more than words could convey.

"I know." Mithilesh’s hands sneaked from her waist to a bit lower, freeing the corner of her pallu from the side of her waist.

Understanding his intentions, which were as clear as day in his dark eyes, Nupur ducked her head lower, her beautiful ivory skin turning red.

&

The atmosphere at dinner was tense. Maithili could feel the tension in the air.

And it wasn’t because of their grandmother.

No, the woman had finally gone with her group of oldies to the Yatra for the Hanuman temple. From there, they would start their week-long pilgrimage, visiting temples and rivers in nearby places.

Maithili knew something had happened. Her mother was throwing nasty glares at Niyati, who was playing with her food, head ducked low and not speaking much.

"Uh, pass me the dal," Maithili said.

She waited for a few seconds for anyone to do the honors, but they were both lost in their own world.

"Niyati... Maithili asked for something," Radha said, more like shouted.

She was the teacher, and it was in her voice.

A flabbergasted Niyati looked up from her plate and turned to Maithili. "What?"

"Daal," Maithili repeated.

Niyati passed the dal just as Radha added her much-needed comment.

"If you would, so kindly, come down from your cloud 9, you might hear what she’s saying."

It made Maithili roll her eyes. There was no need for that. She needed dal, not an inhaler for an asthma attack. Her mother could relax.

Niyati seemed to be on the same page. "If you heard her, why didn’t you do the honors? Were you waiting for me to break the coconut and perform the rituals?"

Radha glowered. She slammed her hands on the table. "You will not talk to me like that, Niyati Mishra. I am your mother, and I demand respect and thoughtfulness from you and nothing more. I did not reprimand you in the morning so your day wouldn’t be spoiled, but not now. You didn’t even apologize for your mistake."

"Apologies... for what? What did I say that was wrong? You treat Shivangi dii like my passport. Even if I have to go to the washroom, I must take Shivu dii with me. And no—you cannot deny that. It’s the same with you and Roopa kaki. You both treat us, especially me and Shivu dii, as if we are fragile dolls that will break with one hit. While Shivu dii holds no objection to that, I will."

Radha was aware that Niyati wasn’t completely wrong. Laxman had raised both of his daughters as independent, tough girls, so expecting them to suddenly act timid and dependent wasn’t easy.

But what could Radha do in this situation? The society where her daughter’s brazen and daring attitude would be praised was not the society they were living in now. The mindset of the people here was far different from what they had experienced until now.

Niyati had always been stubborn. She liked doing things she was never allowed to do. Arguing with her would only be equivalent to pouring fat into the fire.

Taking a deep breath, Radha decided to handle this matter differently—like how Laxman would have if he were here.

"Amu... no, my child. It’s not just that. Love, I know you miss the freedom you had—you both had," she glanced at Maithili too, "back in Indore. But I can’t provide you with that here. I’m sorry."

"Mumma... don’t be. I understand that. But it—it’s... I’m sorry, Mumma. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I apologize." Niyati couldn’t bear to see the crestfallen expression on her mother’s face. Her mother was a proud woman, who kept her head and shoulders high even when darkness surrounded them after her father’s death. So how could she watch this same woman slump her shoulders and sigh in defeat?

"No... no... forgive me. I’m not able to give you the same care and love your father provided—"

Before Radha could finish, both of her daughters hugged her tightly, assuring her without words that having her with them was more than enough comfort.

"Don’t blame yourself, Mumma. You didn’t come out of the womb as the perfect mother who always knew what to do and what to avoid. The three of us are together in this. I apologize for saying whatever came to my mind without thinking about how it would affect you. I’m sorry."

"And I’m sorry, too. I’ll try to be more lenient with both of you." Radha hugged her daughters even tighter. "But not too much."

__&__

Achintya :- one of the many names of the lord Shiva. Also means beyond comprehension and unthinkable.

Vijay :- literally translates as victory. One of the many name of the warrior Arjuna.

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This chapter covers two major and demanding scenes. First, the much awaited moment and interaction between Achintya and Niyati.

And seconds as the sweet moment that trespassed between grumpy Mithilesh and sweet Nupur.

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What you think of Radha's thought? Was it the right choice of her to relocate back to Begusarai, uprooting her children from where they belonged? What about Vijay and Achintya rivalry?

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Votes and comments are highly appreciated and are my motivation to write further. So do ignite the star.

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