Dil Ke Karib (Early Acess Ch 24)

🎉 How was last Chapter did this chapter make your heart flutter or break?

🛎️ New to Nandini and Rajeev’s world? No worries! Catch up on Dil ke Karib (Chapters 1–23) on my website before diving in. Her story is just getting started… 💔✨

🔥 Don’t miss:
Married to My Brother-in-Law, In Love with His Brother — dropping Mon–Fri at 9 PM
Dil ke Karib — continuing Mon–Fri at 9 AM

✨ Two stories. Two time slots. One unforgettable journey.

Now, let’s dive back into the latest chapter… 👇

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Chapter 24 – The Mirror Doesn’t Lie

The morning sun filtered weakly through the sheer curtains, painting pale gold stripes across the floor. Nandini sat at the edge of the bed, her wrist bandaged in clean white gauze. The dull ache throbbed beneath it — a quiet, pulsing reminder.

She stared at her reflection in the dresser mirror, fingers fiddling with the edge of her pallu.

I should be getting up. Maaji will be in the kitchen. She is alone while I am here resting. But she couldn't bring herself to move.

Her throat tightened.

Why does he keep looking at me like I’m breakable? Like I’ll vanish if he touches me too gently or too hard.

The memory flickered.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” Rajeev had whispered this morning, brushing her hair from her eyes. His touch was warm. Steady. It had been so long since she felt truly cared for.

She closed her eyes, clutching the pallu tighter.

No one’s ever said that to me before. Not and meant it.

A knock on the door startled her.

"Nandini?" Rajeev’s voice. Low. Hesitant.

Her heart jumped.

She stood quickly, smoothing her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. The girl in the mirror didn’t look like a bride. She looked like someone still pretending to be brave.

She opened the door just a crack.

"Ji?"

Rajeev stood there, holding a small tin of burn ointment. His gaze flicked to her bandaged hand, then her face.

“I wanted to make sure it’s healing properly. May I…?” he asked, voice gentle.

She nodded and opened the door wider, motioning to the edge of the bed. He sat. She remained standing, unsure of what to do with her hands.

He reached for her wrist, fingers steady as he unwrapped the cloth he’d wound earlier with such care. As he applied the ointment, she exhaled, his touch lingering — steady, warm, patient. Like she wasn’t something broken. A strange stillness settled in her chest, like a lake after a storm.

Silence.

Except for the thudding in her chest.

Say something. Anything.

She turned away before he could see the tears forming.
He saw the bruise. But will he see the truth?

The final layer of gauze peeled away, revealing reddened skin, pink and angry. His fingers were careful. Too careful.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Don't use your hand for a while; let it heal properly."

She nodded. Still muted. Still trapped inside her own mind.

Say it. Tell him what Vikrant did.

Her lips parted. Then closed.

He looked up, eyes searching hers. “Nandini…”

She flinched.

His expression softened. “It’s okay. I won’t push you. But when you’re ready... I’ll be here.”

Something inside her cracked just a little.

She turned away before he could see the tears forming.

Later, in the kitchen, she stood before the stove, watching the milk rise.

The clang of a spoon against a cup behind her made her freeze.

Vikrant.

He walked in, too close, too quiet.

“Bhabhi,” he drawled, the word dripping poison.

Her fingers curled tightly around the ladle. She didn’t turn.

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

Don’t react. Don’t show fear.

“You should leave,” she said softly.

A beat of silence.

Then his laugh — low and cruel.

“You think Rajeev can protect you forever?” He leaned in, his voice a venomous murmur. “We both know how good you are at hiding things, bhabhi. But secrets… they rot. They always float to the surface.”

His fingers ghosted across her arm as he passed — cold, possessive. She jerked back.
Crash.
The plates chime against the floor, scattering like landmines. The milk hissed behind her, forgotten.
Hold it together, Nandini. He wants you to break.

The milk boiled over.

Back in her room, she scrubbed her hands over her face, her breath shallow. Her reflection stared back at her, haunted and tired.

She pressed a trembling palm to the mirror.

You’re not weak. You’re not helpless." You've survived worse.

But even as she told herself that, the voice inside whispered something else.

Then why can’t you speak? Her fingers dug into her palms, nails biting skin.
You’ve been quiet long enough.
She inhaled sharply and straightened, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"Nandini…." Rajeev called out from the other room, concern evident in his voice. She straightened her back, determination filling her.

She stared at the mirror, wiping away the last trace of fear from her cheeks.
Now or never.

Her bare feet whispered across the floor as she stepped toward the hallway.

“I'm here,” she said, voice steady. “And I need to tell you everything that's been weighing on my heart.” She murmured the last part under her breath, a mantra of courage to carry her through the conversation ahead.

The mirror didn’t lie. And for the first time, neither would she.

*****

💬 Author’s Note💔🪞

Hey lovelies 💕,

Wow. Deep breath. This chapter was hard to write.

Not because of what happens outside — but what’s happening inside Nandini. Her silence isn’t just quiet… it’s heavy, suffocating. But the moment she looks in the mirror and chooses herself? That’s when something shifts. 🌊

This was her "enough is enough" moment.

Maybe you’ve had one too? Maybe you're still building toward it? If so — you are not alone. 🫶

Writing Nandini’s journey reminds me that healing doesn’t always start with a scream. Sometimes, it starts with a whisper:
“I’m here.”

💭 Tell me: Did this chapter hit you in the heart? Did you feel that shift in her? Drop a comment below — I’d LOVE to hear what you think.

And if you’re rooting for Nandini as hard as I am… leave a 🌻 in the comments so I know you're with her. 🙏✨

See you in the next one — it’s about to get real.

Next chapter… the truth finally cracks open. But what happens when the wrong person hears it first? 😳
Until then, keep choosing your voice. Every. Single. Time. 💪

— Shaar Shree 🖤