I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. She’s diplomatic in ways I can never be. And now I have to face strangers—my in-laws—alone. My heart starts to race at the thought of saying or doing something wrong.
Hey Bholenaath, please help me!
“Come on, what are you waiting for? Let’s go downstairs,” she says, her smile more frightening than her usual scowls. She turns around and steps out of my room, and I follow her.
We walk down the stairs, and I see everyone already seated in the living room. My father is there too. He looks up, and I instantly recognize the warning in his eyes. The courage I had gathered earlier melts off, and my fingers shake as I grip the railing tightly.
My soon-to-be mother-in-law turns to look at me. A wide, warm smile spreads across her face—it feels more genuine than any I’ve seen from my mother. She stands and walks over to me.My mother squeezes my hand tightly in warning before letting go.
“You look very pretty, beta,” she says kindly. Her words stop my breath. I’ve rarely received compliments in my life, so I never really know how to respond.
“Um, thank you… aunty,” I say cautiously, aware of my parents’ watchful eyes.
“Aunty? No way! Rudraksh calls me maa, and you will too, okay? And don’t worry—I’m not one of those typical mothers-in-law. I’ll always be on your side. My son can go to hell.” She winks, and a small laugh escapes me.
Still looking at me, I smile shyly and say, “Yes, maa.”
She seems pleased, and I move to touch her feet, but she gently stops me. Her hands gently push me to my real height, and she denies it with a small shake of her head.
“Hi, bhabhi! I’m Aditi. If you ever want to annoy Rudraksh bhai, I’m your go-to person.” Aditi introduces herself while coming closer to me with a wide smile. She extends her hand, and I shake it, smiling at her cheerfulness.
“And I’m this idiot’s mother and also Rudraksh’s chachi,” his aunt says, lightly smacking Aditi on the head. Their interaction is playful and easy. I’ve never had anything like that. Grief grips my heart. Watching them makes me ache for something I’ve never known—a warm, light-hearted bond with a mother figure. I have never lived there.
I try to touch Chachi’s feet too, but she stops me as well.
“Come on, the driver’s waiting outside,” Maa says, leading the way.
I walk behind them and get into the car, sitting between Maa and Aditi, while Chachi takes the front seat.
“There’s no need to be scared, beta. You’re our daughter now,” Maa says gently, holding my hand.
Her touch is so different from my mother’s—soft, warm, safe, and gentle. I can’t believe I feel more comfortable with her than with the woman who raised me. And I’ve only known her for a week. I smile and nod, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. When we reach the mall, the driver opens the door, and we all step out.
“Rudraksh bhai has ordered that you get whatever you want. But bhabhi, there’s a dress I really like—please get it for me!” Aditi says with a sheepish grin, and I chuckle at her adorableness.
“You! Stop bothering her!” Chachi scolds her playfully, shooting her a mock glare. But there’s love in her eyes, not contempt—not like my mother’s harsh looks. I glance away, uncomfortable with the jealousy bubbling inside me.
Maa comes to my side and links her arm with mine. I’m surprised by the gesture, and maybe she notices the expression on my face because she leans in and says quietly, “It’s okay, Shivani. I was scared before my wedding too. But once you meet everyone, your fear will disappear. They’ll take great care of you, beta. I promise.” My breath hitches on her words.
Taking care of me?
Then she turns to Chachi and begins chatting again, like she didn’t just melt me with kindness. These are the words I always needed to hear from my own mother. Instead, it’s my soon-to-be mother-in-law offering them to me. My throat tightens, and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
But I quickly blink them away when I hear another call.
“Come on,” Chachi says. “One of my friends owns a boutique here. I told her to show us her best collection.”
The boutique is small but elegant. The marble floors, scented candles, and soft lighting make the boutique feel like walking into a royal wardrobe.
I’ve rarely gone shopping, and when I did, I never enjoyed it. It was usually with my mother and her friends—people who never missed a chance to mock how I looked.
“Beta, are you okay?” Maa asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I nod and smile to reassure her.
A woman in her fifties walks in and warmly hugs both Maa and Chachi. They introduce her as Mrs. Sania Khanna, the boutique’s owner and Chachi’s friend.
After some chatting, Mrs. Khanna asks me, “So, what kind of wedding are you planning?”
