The living room was calm that evening.

Voices floated around casually, the clinking of cups and plates blending with light conversation. Meera stood near the window, distant but present, as always.

A servant walked toward her carefully, holding a tray with freshly made tea.

Meera gave a small nod and reached out to take the cup.

But in that tiny second — the tray tilted.

The cup slipped.

Hot tea spilled over her hand.

The porcelain shattered against the floor.

A sharp gasp filled the room.

The liquid burned her skin instantly. Red marks began forming almost immediately.

But Meera didn’t scream.

She didn’t cry.

Not a single tear left her eyes.

Her fingers trembled slightly, but she simply looked at her hand… quietly.

As if pain was something she had learned to swallow a long time ago.

Because she was mute.

She had never been able to scream her pain out loud.

And maybe that’s why she had learned to endure it silently.

Everyone froze for a second.

But Aarav didn’t.

He was beside her in two quick steps.

“Meera!”

His voice carried panic — enough for both of them.

He gently held her wrist, inspecting the redness forming on her delicate skin. His jaw tightened.

“Can’t you see properly?!” he snapped at the servant before immediately turning his full attention back to her.

Meera tried to pull her hand back slightly, shaking her head as if to say, It’s okay.

It wasn’t okay.

Aarav didn’t let go.

He guided her to the sofa, kneeling in front of her — something no one had ever seen him do.

“Cold water,” he ordered firmly.

When the bowl came, he carefully dipped a cloth into it and pressed it against her burned skin.

She flinched — just a little.

That tiny reaction broke him more than tears would have.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

She looked at him.

Her eyes were calm.

Too calm.

She slowly nodded once.

Aarav’s expression changed. The anger melted into something deeper… protective.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispered.

She gave a faint, almost invisible smile.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

But because someone finally noticed that it did.

He kept holding her hand even after the redness began to settle.

Not out of duty.

But care.

Real care.

And for the first time that evening, Meera didn’t need words.

Because the way he held her hand…

Spoke enough for both of them.

Aarav took her hands in his and kissed her soft palm without any hesitation while his whole family stood there watching them

Aarav was sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen as he worked. The room was quiet except for the soft sound of typing.

A gentle knock broke the silence.

Kirti walked in, holding a cup of coffee.

“Your coffee, bhaiya,” she said softly, placing it on the table beside him.

As Aarav reached for the cup, his eyes suddenly fell on her wrist. A faint red mark was visible on her skin.

His brows furrowed.

“Kirti… what happened to your wrist?” he asked.

Kirti quickly hid her hand behind her back and forced a small smile.

“It’s nothing, bhaiya. I just got hurt by mistake,” she said casually.

Aarav looked at her for a moment but didn’t say anything.

Kirti turned to leave the room, but after taking a few steps, she stopped near the door. Her fingers tightened nervously.

“Bhaiya… I want to say something.”

Aarav lifted his gaze from the laptop.

“What is it, Kirti?”

Kirti hesitated. Her eyes lowered as if she was unsure whether she should say it or not.

“I think… Meera bhabhi… she can speak… but…”

Her voice trailed off before she could finish.

For a moment, silence filled the room.

Aarav slowly closed his laptop and stood up.

“I think the same too, Kirti beta,” he said quietly.

His eyes darkened with a mixture of pain and confusion.

“She could speak… I know she could.”

He sighed deeply.

“But I don’t know why she doesn’t say a single word.”

His voice softened.

“I want her to tell me everything… what she feels, what she hides… everything.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening.

“But she doesn’t say anything at all.”

“And sometimes… Her silence hurts more than the truth ever could.

______________________________________________

Night had fallen over the Raichand mansion. The house was quiet, almost too quiet.

Meera was standing near the balcony of their room, staring at the dark sky. The soft wind moved the end of her saree, but she didn’t react.

The door opened behind her.

Aarav walked in.

For a moment, he just stood there watching her. She looked so calm… yet so distant.

“Meera…” he called softly.

She slowly turned to look at him.

Aarav walked closer until he was standing right in front of her.

“I need to ask you something.”

Meera’s eyes met his, silent as always.

Aarav took a deep breath.

“ Is there something that you want to share to me.”

His voice was calm, but his eyes searched her face carefully.

“like past”

For a brief second, something flickered in Meera’s eyes.

Hope rose inside Aarav.

“You can talk, can’t you?” he asked quietly. “Then why don’t you say anything?”

The room fell into silence.

Meera just stood there, looking at him.

Not a single word.

Aarav’s patience slowly began to break.

“Say something, Meera,” he whispered, almost pleading now. “Anything.”

But Meera didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even try.

Just silence.

Aarav closed his eyes for a moment, frustration and pain mixing together.

“I’m not asking for much,” he said quietly. “Just the truth.”

Still nothing.

Meera lowered her eyes.

And that silence answered him louder than words ever could.

Aarav gave a small, bitter smile.

“Fine,” he murmured.

“If silence is what you want… then silence it is.”

He turned away from her, leaving Meera standing there… with words she still refused to say.

That night, Aarav didn’t come back to the room.

Meera sat on the bed for hours, her eyes fixed on the door as if she was waiting for it to open.

But it never did.

The night passed slowly, and sometime before dawn, she finally fell asleep sitting against the headboard.

The next morning…

Meera walked downstairs to the dining area.

The Raichand family was already at the breakfast table.

And there he was.

Aarav.

He was sitting at the head of the table, calmly reading the newspaper while sipping his coffee, as if nothing had happened.

Meera’s steps slowed.

For a moment, her eyes stayed on him.

But Aarav didn’t look at her.

Not even once.

She quietly took her seat.

A servant placed a cup of tea in front of her, but before Meera could touch it, Aarav suddenly spoke.

“Not tea.”

Everyone looked at him.

Without lifting his eyes from the newspaper, he said calmly,

“She hasn’t eaten anything since last night. Bring her warm milk and something light.”

The servant immediately nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Meera looked at him, surprised.

But Aarav still didn’t look at her.

A few minutes later, a plate of toast and a glass of warm milk were placed in front of Meera.

Aarav finally folded his newspaper and stood up.

As he passed by her chair, he paused for a second.

His hand gently moved the glass of milk a little closer to her.

“Drink it before it gets cold,” he said quietly.

And then he walked away.

No anger.

No conversation.

Just care… wrapped in silence.

Meera sat there, staring at the glass of milk.

For the first time, the silence between them felt heavier than words.

Meera stayed quiet the entire morning.

Aarav’s silence… his deliberate ignorance… hurt more than harsh words ever could.

After breakfast, she quietly returned to her room.

The door closed behind her, and the silence of the room wrapped around her like a heavy weight.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor.

Hours passed.

No one came.

No one spoke to her.

The house outside continued with its routine, but inside that room, time felt frozen.

Slowly the evening faded into night.

One by one, the lights of the Raichand mansion turned off as the family members went to their rooms.

Everything became silent.

Meera hadn’t eaten anything since morning.

Her head felt heavy, and her body weak.

At some point, exhaustion finally took over.

She fell asleep on the bed, still wearing the same clothes, her hair slightly messy, her face pale.

It was long past midnight when the bedroom door quietly opened.

Aarav walked in.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft moonlight coming from the window.

His steps stopped when he saw her.

Meera was sleeping in a bad condition, half lying on the bed, the blanket untouched beside her.

For a moment, Aarav just stood there.

His jaw tightened.

Slowly, he walked closer.

He pulled the blanket over her gently so she wouldn’t feel cold.

A strand of hair had fallen across her face.

Without thinking, Aarav moved it behind her ear.

Meera stirred slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake up.

Aarav’s eyes softened as he looked at her tired face.

“You’re so stubborn…” he murmured quietly.

“You won’t speak… and you won’t even take care of yourself.”

He stood there for a few seconds more.

Then silently turned off the lamp beside the bed and walked to the couch on the other side of the room.

Even in his anger…

He still couldn’t leave her alone.

Morning sunlight slowly entered the room through the curtains.

Meera stirred in her sleep.

Her head felt heavy, and her body weak. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t remember when she fell asleep.

Then she realized something.

A blanket was covering her.

Meera frowned slightly.

She clearly remembered she hadn’t taken it.

Slowly, she sat up on the bed.

Her eyes moved around the room… and then stopped.

Aarav was sleeping on the couch.

Still in the same clothes from last night.

One arm resting on his forehead, the other hanging loosely by his side.

Meera’s eyes softened.

So… he had come.

Her gaze moved to the blanket around her shoulders.

He had covered her.

Despite being angry… despite ignoring her…

He had still taken care of her.

Meera slowly got off the bed, careful not to make any noise.

She stood there for a moment, looking at him.

There were faint signs of exhaustion on his face.

As if he hadn’t slept properly.

Something inside her chest tightened.

She gently picked up the extra blanket from the chair nearby and walked closer to him.

Carefully… she covered him with it.

But the moment the blanket touched him, Aarav’s eyes opened.

For a second, their eyes met.

Meera froze.

But Aarav said nothing.

His expression turned neutral again.

Without a word, he removed the blanket from himself, stood up, and walked toward the washroom.

The distance between them returned instantly.

Meera stood there quietly, her hands still holding the edge of the blanket.

His care was still there.

But his silence was stronger.

She looked broken yet she didn't show any emotions…minutes passed and finally Aarav come out from washroom, the only in towel tie to his waist droplets come from his hairs

Aarav stood in front of the mirror, damp strands of hair falling over his forehead as the hair dryer roared in his hand. He ran his fingers through his wet hair impatiently.

Click.

The sound suddenly died.

He frowned and pressed the switch again.

Nothing.

Aarav shook the dryer slightly and tried once more. Still dead.

A frustrated breath escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the useless dryer on the table.

A few steps away, Meera stood quietly.

She had been watching him the entire time.

Her eyes softened seeing the irritation on his face. Aarav Raichand — the man who could control an entire empire — standing helpless in front of a stubborn hair dryer.

Without making a sound, she walked toward him.

Aarav noticed her in the mirror as she came closer. Before he could say anything, she gently took the dryer from the table and set it aside.

Then she placed a light hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her reflection, confused.

Meera softly pushed him down onto the chair.

Aarav raised an eyebrow but didn’t resist.

She picked up a soft towel from the bed.

Standing behind him, she began drying his hair slowly.

The towel moved gently through his damp strands while her fingers occasionally brushed against his scalp. The room became quiet again, the only sound the soft rustling of the towel.

Aarav watched her reflection in the mirror.

Her face was calm, focused… caring.

For someone who never spoke, her silence somehow said more than words.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice softer than before.

Meera didn’t answer.

She simply continued drying his hair, carefully pushing the wet strands back from his forehead. Her fingers were gentle, almost cautious, as if she was afraid to disturb the moment.

Aarav felt the tension slowly leaving his shoulders.

His eyes remained fixed on her reflection.

“Meera…” he murmured.

She paused for a second, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

For a brief moment the world outside that room seemed to disappear.

Aarav reached up and lightly held her wrist, stopping t

he towel.

She froze.

He turned slightly in the chair, looking up at her.

“You know…” he said quietly, a faint smile touching his lips, “you’re the only person who can make me sit quietly like this.”

Meera’s eyes lowered shyly.

She gently pulled her wrist back and continued drying his hair again.

But this time, Aarav didn’t look at the mirror.

He looked at her.

And for the first time, his frustration had completely melted into something warmer — something neither of them needed words to understand.