- Shaar Shree
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- Dil Ke Karib (CH 42 Early Access)
🎉 How was the last chapter? Comment down your thoughts.
🛎️ New to Nandini and Rajeev’s world? No worries! Catch up on Dil ke Karib (Chapters 1–41) on my website before diving in. Her story is just getting started… 💔✨
🔥 Don’t miss:
📖 Read: “Married to My Brother-in-Law, In Love with His Brother” — a forbidden 1950s romance filled with duty, desire, and defiance.
✨ Two stories. One unforgettable journey.
Now, let’s dive back into the latest chapter… 👇
******
✨ Chapter 42: Fury Wrapped in Silk
The morning air hung heavy with humidity, the monsoon clouds pregnant with a storm. But inside the haveli, another kind of storm had already begun to gather.
Nandini sat on the swing in the inner courtyard, sipping lemon water to ease her nausea. Her eyes drifted to the corridor where Rajeev had gone to fetch her medicine. A small smile tugged at her lips. He was attentive in ways she never expected—gentle, where the world had been cruel. Quiet, where others had shouted.
But not everyone was gentle.
Not everyone was kind.
She felt it before she saw it.
A shift in the air. A shadow—bitter, sharp, and unsettling.
Vikrant.
His voice came like a venomous whisper.
“Seems like Rajeev is playing husband quite well these days.”
Nandini stilled. Her grip tightened around the glass. Her throat went dry.
She didn’t answer.
He stepped closer, his words coiling like smoke.
“And you... playing the doting wife. Glowing, even. Pregnancy does that to a woman. Makes her soft. Vulnerable.”
She stood, steadying herself, ready to walk away.
But he blocked her path.
“Don’t pretend this child gives you a new life,” he murmured, eyes flicking to her stomach.
“You forget—no matter what, I’m the first man to touch you. To claim you.”
Her heart raced—anger and fear clashing like thunder inside her.
But her voice, when it came, was steel wrapped in silk.
“You’re not a man, Vikrant. Just a coward who preys on the broken.”
She looked him straight in the eye.
“Leave me now—or my husband will ensure you never get the chance again.”
She pushed past him.
He froze—just for a moment.
Then his hand shot out, gripping her wrist, slamming her against the wall. His face hovered inches from hers, breath toxic.
“Defy me again,” he hissed, “and you’ll learn what regret really feels like.”
“You promised to love and obey me. You think you can walk away from that?”
Her stomach twisted—not from nausea, but dread.
But before she could answer, a chime of anklets echoed down the hallway, and a voice sliced through the corridor like a dagger.
“Why don’t you try touching your own wife, Vikrant, instead of someone else’s?”
Sobha.
She stood at the end of the corridor—still, cold, unblinking.
Arms crossed. Spine straight. Eyes like winter frost.
Nandini blinked, stunned. Sobha pushed Vikrant away from her, stepping between them with the ease of a seasoned warrior. Nandini stumbled back, nausea returning in waves.
Vikrant’s smirk curled again.
“Don’t act like my wife. I haven’t given you that right.”
Sobha didn’t blink. Her voice was razor-sharp.
“I don’t need your permission. I took the right the moment you married me.”
She took a step forward, fearless.
“Lay a hand on Nandini again, and I will make sure you regret being born.”
“You’re just a man rotting in a gilded cage,” she sneered. “And yet, still pretending to be a king.”
“You dare speak to me like that?” Vikrant snapped.
“Why not?” she said, her voice calm but cutting. She turned her back to him, facing Nandini.
“You married me, remember? Want to exercise your power? Use it on your wifeI'm right here.”
The tension cracked like thunder.
He grabbed her by the arm.
“Fine. Let’s go, wife.”
He dragged her up the stairs, Nandini’s voice chasing them.
“Sobha!”
The door slammed. The lock clicked.
Silence.
Panic clawed at Nandini’s chest. She ran after them, nausea forgotten, feet pounding against old wood. She pounded on the locked door.
“Open the door! Sobha!”
No answer.
Just muffled shouting. Furniture scraping. Then—nothing.
The house was empty. Kaki was at the temple. Maaji had gone visiting.
Nandini was alone.
She sank to the floor, palms trembling. Her stomach twisted with dread.
Inside the locked room:
Sobha stood with her back against the wall, head high, eyes blazing.
Vikrant towered in front of her, fists clenched.
“What—think you scare me?”
Sobha laughed. Low. Cold.
“Scare you? Oh, Vikrant. I pity you.”
She stepped forward slowly, like a lioness sizing up prey.
“What now? Beat me? Shame me? Prove you're still a man?”
She jabbed her finger to her chest.
“Go on, then. Show me how small you really are.”
His hand lifted halfway—
And paused.
“Calling your husband by name now, are we?” He sneered.
“Yes,” she said, unflinching.
“Does that scare you too?”
The fire in her eyes didn’t flicker.
“You know what separates men from cowards?” she whispered.
“Cowards control women to feel powerful. Real men don’t need to destroy to feel alive.”
He raised his hand to strike.
She didn’t flinch.
And he hesitated.
The fire in her gaze burned hotter than his rage.
His hand fell.
Shaking.
As if her words had struck deeper than any slap ever could.
Sobha turned. Quietly opened the door.
And walked out.
Head high. Shoulders square.
Nandini stood at the edge of the corridor, eyes wide and tear-brimmed.
Sobha gave her a tired smile—soft but fierce.
“He won’t touch you again.”
And she walked away.
No fear in her steps.
Just fury wrapped in silk.
*****
Sobha...
What can I even say about her? 🤍
She’s fire wrapped in tradition, rage cloaked in silence — and I know, I know... she’s not the heroine of this story. But sometimes, she walks in like a storm and steals the whole chapter.
And maybe… that’s okay.
Because this chapter — it belonged to her. To her fury. To her pain. To the things she’s carried so quietly for too long.
She’s not soft like Nandini.
She’s not noble like Rajeev.
She’s a woman who’s been hurt, overlooked, dismissed… and now? She’s done playing nice.
🔥 But here’s the thing — just because she’s burning, doesn’t mean she’s heartless.
Just because she’s bold, doesn’t mean she’s not broken inside too.
And while Nandini remains my gentle queen 👑 — with her quiet strength, her unwavering grace — this time, it was Sobha who screamed without raising her voice. And I listened. I hope you did too.
This chapter hurt. It roared. And it reminded me — not all battles are waged on the battlefield. Some are fought in kitchens, in glances, in rooms full of silence.
Some wars happen in sarees and bindis.
Thank you for walking this raw, emotional path with me.
Tell me in the comments —
💬 Did you feel Sobha?
💬 Did you ache for Nandini?
💬 Did something shift inside you too?
As always, I’m here, writing with my heart wide open.
Thank you for reading, feeling, and loving these characters with me.
🌸 Until next time,
Yours always,
💫 Shaar Shree
P.S. Drink some chai. Hold your heart. This story is only just beginning to unfold. 💔➡️💖
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