Dil Ki Bandagi (Early Acess Ch 36)

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Chapter 36: Scars at the Start

“Scars are not the end of the story. Sometimes, they are where it begins.”

The rain started to pour outside, whispering against the concrete roof, soft like secrets being confessed to the night.

He knows so much about love and sex, so why did he treat me like that on our night? It was because of fear, trauma, or something else. I don't know, but I can't help but wonder.

Aarti stood beside the bookshelf long after Raghav had gone to refill the oil lamp. Her fingers hovered just above the Kamasutra's worn spine, its gold embossing faded from years of quiet hiding. She didn’t touch it again—just looked at it, the way one might look at a locked door they now held the key to.

Her heart no longer raced from fear—but from something slower, stranger. Like waking from a long sleep.

She turned just as Raghav stepped back in, the lamp trembling in his grip.

The lamplight glowed between them, casting flickering shadows, but his face—his face was open in a way she had never seen.

Rain had soaked his white kurta, and his hair stuck to his forehead, but he looked at her with a vulnerability that made her chest ache.

He sat down a little distance from her, on the floor, cross-legged like a boy unsure of his place in the room. He didn’t speak right away. Neither did she. The silence between them no longer felt like a wall. It felt like an invitation.

She took it.

“Do you remember that night?” she asked, her voice low. “The first one?”

Raghav flinched—not from anger, not even from guilt. From the weight of memory.

“Yes,” he said, after a long breath. “I remember everything.”

His fingers twisted the hem of his kurta. “I’ve tried to forget it for months. But it doesn’t leave.”

Aarti stepped closer, but not too close. She wasn’t looking for an apology. Not anymore. She needed truth. The kind that didn’t hide behind duty or shame.

“You said nothing then. You said I was just doing my duty. That I should stay out of your way.”

She expected him to argue. He didn’t.

“I was cruel,” he said. “Not because I hated you—but because I hated myself.”

She swallowed.

“You hurt me,” she whispered. “And I didn’t even know if I had the right to say it.”

Raghav’s eyes closed for a moment. The shame passed over him like a wave. He didn’t hide from it this time. But if anyone found out they hadn’t spent the night together, it would’ve been Aarti they blamed—for failing as a wife. It wasn’t fair. But that was the world they lived in.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I was raised in a home where silence was safety. Where men never apologized. Where women were never asked. And the only thing that mattered was how things looked to the outside world.”

He looked up at her.

“You were the first person who looked at me like I was more than that.”

Aarti let the words settle. They didn’t undo the pain. But they acknowledged it.

“I didn’t know how to touch you,” he continued. “I wanted you to hate my silence. If you stayed away, maybe my darkness wouldn’t reach you. But you kept coming back, looking at me with kindness I didn't deserve."

She stepped forward then. Just a little.

“And now?” she asked.

Raghav’s voice broke. “Now, without you… silence isn’t peace. It’s punishment.”

Aarti’s heart trembled, but it didn’t retreat.

She sat beside him on the floor, the lamp between them. The space that once held fear now held something else—something fragile and unnamed.

“Maybe I was naive. But never blind. I knew what you were trying that night, and I don’t want to erase that night,” she said, her eyes not leaving his. “You avoided marriage for years. You feared touch. So why me—if you weren’t ready for what this meant?” she asked softly, searching for the truth in his eyes.

Raghav looked at her with tear-filled eyes and whispered, “There’s more to it than our parents told you. Something I’ve never had the courage to say—until now.”

Aarti stared at him, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What do you mean?" Raghav took a deep breath before revealing, "There's more to it than that. I'll tell you everything, but first, can you promise to listen with an open heart?"

They sat in silence again, but this time it wasn’t filled with dread. It was filled with a beginning.

Aarti reached out—not for his hand, but to press a memory into it: the broken bangle, sharp and shining. One she had kept all these months.

“I never threw it away,” she said. “I needed to remember what not to become.”

Raghav stared at it. And then, with the quietest motion, he kissed it.

Not her hand. Not her wrist. Just the broken glass and the pain it symbolized.

“I spoke like I didn’t see you. But I did. Every time," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And that was the worst part."

Aarti exhaled.

Then she did something neither of them expected.

She leaned her forehead against his—not a kiss, not a claim, just a silent, sacred bridge between who they were and who they might become. "You were rude and arrogant but never cruel… I’ve seen every side of you, Ji,” she said, the name landing like a benediction, not an obligation. "And I choose each and every one of them because they make you who you are." She gently took his hand, guiding it away from the broken glass, and intertwined her fingers with his.

He didn’t touch her.

Not because he didn’t want to—but because he understood: her body wasn’t his to claim. Not even now.

Instead, he waited. Let the silence settle between them like a question.

And then—she moved.
Just a little. Just enough.

Her fingers reached for his—not bold, not hesitant—just honest.
Her palm brushed against his wrist, where the skin was scarred and warm.

And for the first time since that brutal night, Raghav didn’t flinch.

He smiled—not with triumph, but with awe.
She was here. With him. Not out of duty. But choice.

And it was enough.

He used to think marrying her was a mistake—fate’s punishment. But now, as her fingers laced through his, he realized: it was mercy. A second chance he never deserved but would never let go of.

In her presence, the old scars didn’t vanish. But for once, they didn’t define him. She was his anchor and his solace, and he vowed to never let her go.

Author’s Note:

This is what healing looks like.

Two people—bound by duty, broken by silence—choosing not to erase the past, but to rewrite it.

Raghav isn’t redeemed in a single moment.
But he’s no longer the man from Chapter 1.
And Aarti? She’s no longer the girl who trembled in silence.

She has a voice now.
And this time—she’s using it.

💭 Did this chapter shift something in you?
💬 Have you ever held onto pain just to remind yourself of your strength?

Next in Chapter 37: Alone in the City —
Aarti begins a new chapter: education, independence, and self-respect.
She’s determined never to be silenced again.

But just as she begins to find her footing… a new guest enters her world.
And with him, the haunting possibility of being pulled back into the past she fought so hard to escape.

Will she hold her ground?
Or will old ghosts threaten the woman she’s becoming?

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With tenderness and rebellion,
— Shaar Shree