
Morning time, Rathore Mansion was glowing that evening, wrapped in a softness that only festivals could bring. Chandeliers shimmered like stars above, their light dancing across walls draped in marigold garlands and fresh jasmine strings and the fragrance of sandalwood mingled with that of flowers, filling every corner with warmth. The entire mansion looked alive, as if it, too, was celebrating something sacred. Yes you are guessing right, there is something special today.
Today was Teej—a festival that bound husband and wife not just through rituals, but through love, patience, and devotion. It was Misthi’s first Teej after everything, and the family had made sure not a single shadow touched her day. For the Rathores, it wasn’t just a festival—it was a reminder that bonds stronger than storms could still shine bright.
One month had passed since the courtroom… one month since Misthi’s fiery stand had not only shaken the world but also carved scars on her heart. And in this one month, her family had wrapped her with a kind of love that stitched those wounds with invisible threads.
Ruhi would drag her into gossip sessions about fashion and films, laughing loudly on silly trends, making sure her bhabhi had no space left for dark thoughts.
Sumitra, with her motherly stubbornness, would sneak laddoo into her plate at every chance, whispering with a knowing smile, “Maa ke haath ka mithai sab dukh mita deta hai.”
Akshat, restless and overflowing with guilt he never spoke aloud, had turned into her mischievous shadow. Night or day, he would pop into her room, leave sticky notes on her mirror saying “Di, you’re my superhero,” or pull harmless pranks just to see her smile.

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