The days after Meera's arrival at the Ahuja mansion were a blur of new faces, customs, and expectations. Although Kabir had been mostly quiet, he had not been unkind. But there was always a sense of distance between them, a barrier Meera couldn’t quite understand. It was in the way he looked at her—like he was waiting for something, something that she had no idea how to give.

That morning, as Meera stepped into the kitchen to help, she was greeted by a sight that made her freeze in place. Simran Ahuja, Kabir's mother, was standing near the stove, her saree perfectly draped, her expression unapproachable, as always. Meera had expected to help, but the sight of Simran took away her words.

"Meera," Simran’s voice was calm but firm. "You should have come earlier. There’s no need to wait for anyone's permission to help around here."

Meera nodded quickly. She had never been good at responding with anything other than courtesy, especially to someone like Simran, who seemed to have her eyes on every detail.

Simran pointed toward the counter. "Cut the vegetables. You should get used to it. This is your home now."

Meera moved toward the counter and set about chopping the vegetables, careful not to let her hands shake. Simran stood across from her, watching every move she made. Meera was just beginning to feel more comfortable when Simran spoke again.

"You're probably wondering why we do things a certain way here. I expect you to follow tradition, Meera. The family has certain values we hold dear. You must not forget your place."

Simran’s words were not harsh, but they carried a weight Meera could feel deep inside. She was used to respect and family values but the magnitude of expectations in this household felt almost oppressive.

Meera turned to Simran, forcing herself to speak. "I understand, Aunty. I’ll do my best to meet your expectations."

Simran’s gaze softened for a moment, but her sharp eyes never left Meera. "Good. Make sure you do."

---

in the Evening

That evening, after dinner, the family gathered in the drawing-room. Aarav Ahuja, Kabir’s younger brother, had been unusually quiet, noticing the tension in the air. He leaned over to Meera with a small smile.

"Don’t mind Mom," he said, his voice soft. "She’s just trying to ensure you fit in. You’ll get used to it, I promise."

Meera, grateful for the reassurance, smiled back at Aarav. "I just don’t want to disappoint anyone."

"You won't," Aarav assured her, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Just be yourself. That’s all anyone expects. My brother, on the other hand, might take some time to warm up to you."

Meera glanced at Kabir, who was sitting across the room, his expression as unreadable as ever. His silence was as sharp as a blade, and it left her feeling out of place.

Kabir’s gaze briefly met hers, but he quickly turned away, focusing on the book he was reading. Meera couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. She had thought things.

---

Later that night, as Meera prepared to retire to her room, she found herself once again alone in the garden. The stars above glistened softly, and the cool night air seemed to soothe her troubled mind. But the calm didn’t last long.

Just as she was about to turn back, she heard footsteps approaching. She turned around to see Kabir, his tall figure cutting through the night.

"Meera," he said quietly, his voice deeper than usual. "You shouldn’t be out here alone at this time."

His words startled her, but there was something in his tone that made her heart flutter—something soft beneath the usual coldness.

"I... I didn’t want to disturb anyone," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Kabir took a step closer. "It’s not about disturbing anyone. It’s about knowing when to step away from things. If you need time, it’s fine."

Meera looked up at him, trying to gauge his expression. He wasn’t looking at her directly, his eyes focused on the ground, but there was an undeniable shift in his demeanor.

"Thank you," Meera said softly, not knowing how to say anything else.

Kabir’s gaze flicked back up, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment. It was enough to send a ripple of warmth through Meera’s chest, though she didn’t understand why.

"You don’t have to thank me," he replied, his voice low. "Just... don’t lose yourself here."

Meera nodded, unsure of what to say. Kabir turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the garden, her heart still racing from their exchange.

---

The following days passed in a blur of routine, but the tension in the Ahuja household continued to grow. Simran’s eyes were always on Meera, scrutinizing every move she made. Kabir’s aloofness didn’t help, and Meera found herself in a constant state of unease.

One evening, after dinner, Meera was once again alone in the drawing-room when Simran entered. Without preamble, Simran spoke.

"Meera, you need to understand that being part of this family requires more than just following the rules. It means giving your all, showing devotion, and fulfilling your duties. You can’t expect to blend in so easily."

Meera tried to control her emotions. "I’m trying, Aunty. But it’s hard sometimes."

Simran looked at her sharply. "It’s not supposed to be easy. Nothing worth having is ever easy."

The words stung, but Meera held her ground. "I understand. I just don’t want to disappoint anyone."

Simran nodded slowly, her gaze softening just a little. "Don’t disappoint Kabir. He’s the one who needs to see your worth."

Meera nodded, but as Simran left the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being caught betwe

en the Ahuja family’s expectations and her own sense of identity.