Aarti Pov:

It had been a few months since our wedding, and the conversations around me were beginning to change. No longer were the discussions about my ability to adjust to my new home or manage the household. Instead, they shifted toward another expectation,the next big milestone in our lives.

"Ab kuch khush khabri kab suna rahi ho, Aarti?" ,my mother-in-law casually asked one morning while we were having tea.

(When will you give us some good news, Aarti?)

I looked up from my cup, startled. The room suddenly felt warmer, the air heavier. I managed a small smile, but my heart sank. I had seen this coming. The hints had started weeks ago remarks about how much my sister-in-law’s children brightened the house, rani - my neighbour who got married after us is pregnant or how the family was looking forward to welcoming the next generation.

"Sab kuch toh Aarti ke upar hai," my father-in-law added, laughing lightly but with an undertone of seriousness.

(It all relies on Aarti, after all.)

I tried to focus on the tea in my hand, letting their words wash over me without showing how they cut through me. The weight of their expectations grew heavier with each passing day.

Later that evening, my own mother called. She rarely did, but when she did, her tone carried the same expectations.

"Shaadi ke baad ka agla kadam yeh hi hota hai, beta," she said firmly.

(The next step after marriage is this, my dear.)

I listened silently, my grip tightening on the phone. Her words mirrored what I heard at home every day. I couldn’t escape it, not even in my mind.

But was I even ready for this? My days were already consumed by endless chores, attending to every need of my in-laws, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. My life felt like a series of tasks that needed completing, one after the other. There was no space left for myself, let alone for another person to depend on me.

Raghav ji didn’t talk about this with me, at least not yet. Maybe he didn’t feel the pressure the way I did. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.

As much as I admired his silence, it also frustrated me. Did he not see how exhausted I was? Did he not notice the way my smile had become a mask, my laugh an obligation? At night, when he would hold me close, I wanted to tell him about the weight of everyone’s expectations , how I felt like I was slowly losing myself. But I didn’t.

Shaadi ke baad yeh sab toh hota hi hai, I would remind myself.

(This is what happens after marriage.)

But deep down, I wasn’t sure if I believed that.

One evening, I was alone in the godam (storage room), sitting by the veena. I hadn’t played it for days, afraid someone might hear me and question why I was spending my time this way instead of doing something “productive.” I ran my fingers along the strings, the familiar sensation grounding me.

I thought of the life I had before this, the simplicity of it, the freedom to play my veena whenever I wanted, the absence of these unspoken demands.

Why was it that I felt like I was failing everyone around me? As a wife, as a daughter-in-law, and now, as a potential mother? Why did I feel like no one was asking what I wanted or how I felt?

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I sat there in the dim light of the storage room. I wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact that I couldn’t meet everyone’s expectations or the fact that I didn’t even want to anymore.

Raghav’s POV:

I had noticed the change in Aarti, even if she thought I hadn’t. Her silence was louder than her words, and her tiredness was more visible than she realized.

I had heard my parents’ subtle remarks, and though they never addressed me directly, I knew what they were hinting at. A child, a new addition to the family,it was what everyone expected.

But Aarti wasn’t herself these days. She moved through the house like a shadow, her energy drained, her laughter missing.

At night, I would hold her close, hoping she would tell me what was on her mind. I wanted to be there for her, to share her burdens, but she never said anything. She would simply say she was tired, and I didn’t press further.

But it hurt.

I had promised myself I would be a husband who cared, who supported her, who didn’t let her feel alone in this new life. Yet, here we were, and I felt like I was failing her.

Was I not doing enough? Or was she afraid to tell me what she was feeling?

One night, as I watched her sleeping beside me, I made a silent vow. I wouldn’t let this distance grow any further. I wouldn’t let her carry this weight alone. She wasn’t just my wife,she was my partner, and I would do whatever it took to remind her of that.