Upstairs in Vihaan's room
Gauri sat on the edge of the bed, her trembling hands clutching the blanket as tears streamed down her cheeks. The laughter she had forced downstairs was gone, replaced by raw pain.
Her mind replayed everything like a cruel film—Vihaan showing her the video of Charvi kidnapped and tied in a car, his cold voice demanding marriage in exchange for her sister's life. Then the memory of her mother, Gayatri, dragged to the police station, arrested on fabricated charges until Gauri surrendered and signed the marriage contract.
Her sobs grew louder as she pressed her palms to her ears, trying to block out the memories, but they only screamed louder inside her head.
"How could you, Vihaan?" she whispered brokenly, her voice cracking. "You ruined me… you trapped me when I had nothing left. I sacrificed everything for my family, and you… you made it a bargain."
She curled onto the bed, hugging herself, her body shaking as grief poured out of her. The colors of Holi still lingered faintly on her skin, but her heart felt colorless, betrayed, and bruised.
Gauri's sobs softened into hiccups as another memory stabbed through her mind—the doctor's grave voice echoing: "Charvi's heart condition is worsening… her surgery must happen soon, or it may be too late."
Her chest tightened, tears spilling anew. She pressed a hand over her mouth, muffling the cry that rose in her throat. For a moment, the weight of everything threatened to crush her—the forced marriage, the humiliation, and now the fear of losing her sister.
Slowly, she wiped her face with trembling fingers and stood. Her eyes, still swollen with tears, burned with a new determination.
"Vihaan had his way by marrying me," she whispered bitterly to herself, "but I will not give up my responsibilities for a meaningless relationship. Charvi needs me… and I will not fail her."
With a deep breath, she strode to the washroom, splashing cold water over her face. The tears, though still raw, were hidden under her mask of strength. As she tied her hair back, her reflection in the mirror looked different—wounded, but resolute.
"From now on, my focus is only Charvi."
Gauri left the washroom, her steps steadier than before, ready to bury her pain beneath duty.
After freshening up, Gauri slips into her rugged blue jeans and zips up her fitted jacket. She stares at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, her eyes still heavy with tears from earlier. With a sharp breath, she pulls the hair tie off, letting her long hair fall loose over her shoulders—wild, untamed, and defiant, just like her.
Her lips curl into a bitter smile as she grabs her cab keys from the table. The metallic jingle echoes in the silence, as if announcing her decision.
She squares her shoulders and whispers to herself, steady and determined,
"Gauri Sharma reporting to duty."
Without another glance at the room that suffocates her, she flips her hair back, swings the keys around her finger, and strides out the door, ready to face the day on her own terms.
Gauri descends the staircase, her hair loose and flowing, jeans and jacket setting her apart from the rest of the household. The Kotharis, mid-discussion, fall silent, stunned at her sudden appearance. Vihaan's eyes widen, a flicker of shock mixing with something unspoken as he sees her.
Veena is the first to break the silence. Her tone sharp, laced with disapproval:
"Where are you going dressed like that?"
Gauri stops mid-step, her gaze steady.
"Mother-in-law, I can't wear a saree to work. These are what I usually wear—my work clothes."
Veena folds her arms, her voice rising.
"Firstly, you are now the daughter-in-law of the Kothari family. You cannot walk around in such clothes. Secondly, daughters-in-law are not permitted to work. It is against our tradition."
The weight of her words hangs heavy, but Gauri does not flinch. Instead, she steps down fully, her voice calm but piercing.
She begins reciting, almost like a poem flowing from her heart:
"Work is my worship, my hands are my prayer.
To sit idle in chains is a burden I cannot bear.
I am not defined by silks or gold,
But by the strength of my spirit, bold.
If duty calls, I must obey—
For my family's survival, I cannot stray."
Her voice quivers at the end, but her stance remains unyielding. The hall falls into silence once again, every pair of eyes now fixed on her—some shocked, some impressed, and Vihaan… utterly speechless.
Veena's face hardens, her tone dripping with finality.
"This might be a joke to you, but I am telling you clearly, Gauri—you cannot work."
Gauri lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
"When men can work, why can't women?"
Her voice rises, her words cutting through the air as she steps closer, her eyes blazing with conviction.
"Why are women always chained to rules written by others? Why is a man's work called responsibility, but a woman's work is called rebellion?
A man earns and he's praised as the provider—
But if a woman dares to earn, she's branded shameless, a disgrace, a rebel.
We are told to stay behind the veil, to bow our heads, to accept what is given… but why?
Are we not born with the same strength, the same fire, the same right to live our lives freely?
Why must we sacrifice our dreams so men can shine?
Why must we always be the pillars, but never the roof of our own homes?
I refuse to be caged in the name of tradition.
I will work—not because I want to insult your customs, but because my work is my pride, my worship, my freedom.
If men can step out and build their world, then so can women. And I will."
Her words echo through the hall, leaving the Kothari family stunned. Even Veena falters for a moment, speechless at the boldness.
Vihaan, standing slightly behind, clenches his fist—his expression unreadable, caught between pride and turmoil.