Dil ke Karib (CH 43 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 1–42) 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… 👇

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✨ Chapter 43: Death doesn't feel the flames

The air was still.

The storm hadn’t broken outside yet, but within the haveli, the silence was louder than thunder.

Nandini sat curled in a corner of the courtyard, a shawl wrapped tightly around her. Her fingers trembled where they rested on her belly—not from nausea this time, but from a fear that lingers even after danger has passed.

Soft footsteps approached. Anklets chimed.

She looked up.

Sobha.

Her face was pale, but her spine was unyielding. No one would have guessed she had just stared down the man who once shattered her.

She said nothing.
Only placed a steaming cup of cardamom tea beside Nandini and sat across from her, wordless.

A long silence stretched between them. Quiet. Heavy. Real.

Then Nandini’s voice, hoarse and small, broke the stillness.
“You shouldn’t have stepped in like that. He could’ve—”

“—Killed me?” Sobha interrupted, her smile brittle and hollow. “He already did. Years ago.”

Nandini’s eyes welled.
"You shouldn't have put yourself in danger for me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Sobha reached out and gently squeezed Nandini's hand, her eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "I couldn't just stand by and watch," she replied softly.

Sobha looked away, her eyes tracing the rain-stained stone of the courtyard.
“Men like Vikrant collect pain like trophies. And call it love.”

Nandini reached across. Tentative. Gentle. Her hand found Sobha’s.

“I didn’t know. About you.”

“I didn’t know about you either,” Sobha replied. “Not until I saw it in your eyes. That same silence. That same shame.”

Silence again. But this one felt... shared. Not cold. Not lonely.

“Why did you marry him?” Nandini finally asked.

Sobha turned to her. This time, her smile was razor-thin.
“Because I wanted to burn him from the inside. Like he burned me.”

“You’ll burn yourself too,” Nandini whispered, barely above the rain. Sobha's eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and resignation, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Nandini's words.

"A dead body like me doesn't feel the flames," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Nandini reached out and squeezed Sobha's hand, offering silent support in their shared pain. "Thank you for being honest with me," Nandini said softly, her eyes filled with compassion. Sobha nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
But her silence said more than surrender ever could.

"I know what it's like to love someone and then be ruined by their betrayal," Nandini said, her voice breaking with emotion. "But we can heal together, one step at a time."

Sobha smiled but said nothing. Healing wasn’t what she craved. Some wounds needed to stay raw—if only to keep the fire alive.

Rajeev entered the haveli, his umbrella dripping and a medicine packet in hand—only to find the swing empty.

He found her in the inner courtyard, curled up in Sobha’s lap, asleep.

Sobha looked up as he approached. Her voice was soft but resolute.
“She’s safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt her again.”

His eyes drifted to the faint bruise on Nandini’s wrist.

“I should’ve been here,” he muttered, guilt strangling his voice.

“No,” Sobha said flatly. “He shouldn’t have been.”

She stood. Her eyes locked onto his.
“He should leave this house. Before he rots it from the inside.”

Rajeev nodded, jaw tight, heart heavy.
As he picked up Nandini in his arms, he murmured, “Thank you… for being with her.”

Sobha watched him walk away with Nandini, a sad smile tugging at her lips.
“Nandini is lucky…” she whispered, her voice tinged with something old—grief, maybe. Memory.
Not everyone gets rescued in time.

Upstairs, Vikrant sat on the edge of the bed in the locked room, nursing his pride like a wound.

The mirror across from him didn’t reflect the prince he believed himself to be. It showed a man shrinking into irrelevance.

And for the first time… he felt it.

Fear.

He clenched his fists, the realization sinking in—his control, his charm, his power—they were slipping. The carefully crafted image was cracking. The invincible shell dissolving.

Sobha.

Her name echoed in his head, louder than reason.

The one woman who had seen through him from the start. Who looked at him and saw not greatness but rot.

He needed to regain his dominance. But the panic clawing at his chest was unfamiliar and suffocating.

Women are weak. Always have been.
All it takes is the right words... the right lies...

But Sobha had proved him wrong.
And that terrified him more than anything else.

Then her voice cut through his spiral.

“Staring at the shame of the man you are?”

He turned.

Sobha stood in the doorway. Her expression held no rage—just disappointment. And pity.
A far more dangerous combination.

His fists clenched. Rage flared.
“Get out of my room,” he snarled, stepping toward her like a cornered animal.

Sobha didn’t even blink. “Your room?” she said, her voice calm and cutting. “This house doesn’t belong to you. You're a guest here, remember? And guests don't get to make demands.” Her words hit him like a physical blow, shattering his sense of control.

Vikrant halted, her words slicing through his delusion.

“What do you want from me, Sobha?” he asked. This time, his voice cracked—softer, uncertain.

Sobha exhaled. Took a step forward.
“I want you to feel the shame you’ve forced onto others. I want you to be stripped bare, judged, and seen. I want you to take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

Her voice dropped, icy calm.

“I want to ruin you.”

Vikrant’s face contorted with disbelief. Then fury. He lunged forward, grabbing her wrist, his grip bruising.
“You can try, Sobha,” he hissed. “But you won’t break me. You won’t win. I won’t let you—or anyone—decide my fate.”

He flung her hand away and stormed out.

Sobha stood there, her breath ragged, her skin burning where he’d grabbed her. Red marks bloomed on her wrist.

But she didn’t flinch.

The pain was nothing—nothing—compared to the fire inside her.

She watched him disappear down the corridor and whispered to the silence:

“This war isn’t over.”

*****

💬 Author's Note🌧️🔥

Hey lovelies 💕,

This chapter… 🥹 I know it’s a heavy one. Thank you for holding it gently with me. Writing this wasn’t easy—it came from a place of quiet rage, deep ache, and the kind of scars we often tuck away under silence.

Sobha and Nandini… Two women standing at different points in their pain, yet meeting in the same storm. 🌪️ One is still bleeding. The other, numb from burns. But together, for a moment, they found something rare—shared survival. 🤝💔

I wanted this chapter to breathe. To feel. To remind us that not all warriors wear armor—some just carry tea to a hurting woman in silence ☕🫶. Some don’t raise their voice—they just stand between you and your monsters. 💪🏽👣

Sobha may not believe in healing… not yet, at least. But sometimes, healing begins in being believed. In someone saying, “I see you.” 👁️ And Nandini did just that. Slowly, softly—they're unlearning their silence together. 🕊️

As for Vikrant… The cracks are showing, aren’t they? 😮‍💨 For once, the predator feels fear. And trust me, it’s only the beginning. 😈🔥

If this chapter moved you, hurt you, or healed something small inside you—hold it close. And know: your pain is not weakness. Your survival is a story worth telling. 📖✨

Stay with me. The storm hasn’t passed yet… But something new is rising in the ashes. 🔥🌅

Thank you for walking with these women through the fire. Your hearts make this story worth telling. 🌸

With all my love (and a lump in my throat),
—Shaar Shree 🤍🖋️

#TeamSobha #NandiniDeservesPeace #SomeFiresBurnForJustice