Dil Ke Karib (Early Acess Ch 4)

Sunlight broke through the wooden shutters, striping the room in silent bars of gold—like a cage that didn't need locks.

Nandini stirred awake, her limbs aching from a night curled on the narrow bed. Across the room, Rajeev lay on the floor, a blanket half-tossed over his frame. A faint streak of dried blood marred his forehead—a quiet scar from her rage.
She should’ve felt vindicated.

But all she found was a hollowed ache, echoing deeper than she expected.

Rising quietly, she reached for her pallu, then crouched beside him. She dipped her fingers into her sindoor box—not for the vermilion this time, but the turmeric tucked beneath—and gently pressed it over the wound on his forehead. The scent of it—the antiseptic earthiness—filled her lungs.

Guilt clung to her like wet cloth. Hurting him hadn’t been her intention. Anger, yes. But not this. The image of the glass flying from her hand in blind rage replayed like punishment.

She bathed quickly, dressed, and braced herself. Today, she would face him—and apologize.

The kitchen was already alive when she entered. Rajeev's mother, draped in a severe maroon sari, glanced up with sharp eyes before returning to the dough in her hands.

“Finally awake,” she muttered, loud enough for the help to hear.

Nandini bowed her head, touched her feet, and offered to help. She was waved off with a tight-lipped smile.

“You wouldn’t know the difference between wheat flour and besan. Sit. Watch. Learn.” Her mother-in-law's tone dripped honeyed venom. "A girl like you—poor and scandal-marked—becomes our bahu? The gods must’ve been in a generous mood."

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she kept her eyes lowered. This wasn’t the time to fight. Not yet.

Then, in a louder voice: “But today is your first Rasoi. Cook something sweet for prasad and offer it to the gods.”

Nandini nodded, heart thudding. She moved toward the utensils, palms damp with nerves.

Rajeev passed by the kitchen doorway moments later. He paused, catching the sting in his mother’s voice. His gaze brushed against Nandini’s—briefly. Then he moved on.

He knew Nandini loathed him. But no matter how much tension simmered between them, Rajeev couldn’t bring himself to hate her.

Later that morning, Rajeev stood at the edge of a sunlit field, arms folded. Two workers nearby chatted about the coming monsoon, but his thoughts stayed rooted at home.

He hadn’t meant to marry her. Not truly. Not deeply. But when the village dragged her name through the mud—when people mistook him for the man who had wronged her—he had stayed silent. He thought his silence might protect her dignity, shield her from worse.

Now he wasn’t sure if he’d saved her—or sentenced them both to a life made of silence.

A voice cut through his reverie.

“Shaadi toh kar li, Rajeev bhai. Ab toh muskurana bhi seekh lo.”

Rajeev’s jaw tightened. His smile was faint and flat. “Kaam pe dhyan do, Sharma.”

By afternoon, Nandini struggled with the old hand pump in the courtyard. Her arms burned. The bucket tipped. Water splashed her feet, her sari, and her raw, blistered palms.

Just as she was about to let go in frustration, another pair of hands settled over hers—firm, warm, and familiar.

She looked up, startled.

Rajeev didn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t speak. He just shifted the rhythm, and the old pump obeyed him. The pump coughed, then released a steady stream. He filled both buckets.

And he didn’t walk away. He lifted them himself and carried them to the washing area.

Nandini followed silently, unsure how—or whether—to thank him.

Dinner was strained.

Rajeev’s mother served him first. Then the others. Nandini waited, as expected. The room smelled of ghee and judgment.

Rajeev sat beside his father on the floor, eyes flicking occasionally toward her. Raghav was out late again—as always.

“Some brides bring shame, others bring luck,” the mother mused into her dal. “This one only brings silence.”

Nandini stayed still, unfazed. But something shifted in Rajeev’s posture.

He set his glass down with a thud.

“Ma,” he said. Calm. Sharp. “Please.”

The table froze.

She looked at him. So did Nandini.

Rajeev returned to his plate, the only sound the soft clink of his spoon against metal. But the silence he defended her from still lingered around the table.

That night, Nandini sat by the window, undoing her braid slowly, her thoughts tangled like the strands. She didn't have dinner, as her mind was preoccupied with the tension at the dinner table. The only comfort she found was in the cool night air that brushed against her skin, offering a moment of solace amidst the chaos within.

A sound came from the hallway.

She opened the door and found a small cloth bundle. Inside: a few homemade snacks. Familiar ones—soft on the teeth, like the kind her mother used to press into her palms after a long day. No note. No message.

She stepped into the corridor and looked around. No one.

She took a bite as tastes of nostalgia flooded her senses, momentarily easing the weight on her shoulders. The tangy taste of tamarind brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent in the kitchen with her mother, laughing and sharing stories. A small smile crept onto her face as she realized that someone out there remembered the little things that brought her comfort.

A noise from down the hall caught her attention.

She caught a silhouette behind the pillar.

Rajeev. A flicker of shadow. Their eyes caught—long enough for her breath to snag—before he slipped away, as silently as he'd come.

*****

Author's Note 🌟

Hello, lovely readers! 💖

Here we are, chapter 4 of Turmeric and Silence — and let me tell you, things are heating up (pun intended! 😉). This chapter is a quiet storm, isn’t it? Nandini and Rajeev are tiptoeing around their pain, their guilt, and of course, that simmering tension between them. Can you feel the weight of silence? 🫣

I won’t lie, I’m absolutely loving how their relationship is unfolding. It’s complex, raw, and even when they’re apart, you just know their paths are entwined in ways they can’t even begin to understand yet. And that little gesture from Rajeev with the hand pump? Chef’s kiss 💋 I swear, those little moments speak volumes.

But let’s not forget, there’s always a mystery lurking just behind the corner—like those homemade snacks that Nandini finds... Who could have left them? 👀 Maybe we’ll find out in time (or maybe not... because, you know, I like keeping you on your toes 😉).

As always, your thoughts mean the world to me, so don’t be shy! Drop a comment, let me know how you’re feeling about Nandini and Rajeev’s journey, and tell me all about your favorite moments so far. Are you rooting for them? Or do you think they’ll drive each other crazy before they figure it out? 🤔

Share the love 💬, tell a friend about the story, or shout it out on social media using #TurmericAndSilence (I’ll be lurking to see your thoughts 👀). Can’t wait to hear from you all!

See you in the next chapter! 🌸✨

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