Married to My Brother-in-Law, In Love with His Brother (CH 34 Early Access)

After a long break, I’m back with new chapters! Thank you for your patience ❤️ And now… without further ado, let’s rock! 🎸🔥

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Now… let’s dive back in, shall we? 😉

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Chapter 34: The Scent of Peace

The haveli no longer echoed—it murmured.

Soft footfalls on stone, servants carrying trays with silent deference, the distant clang of temple bells at dusk. Life had resumed its rhythm after the accident, but something within the house—within them—had changed.

Rajveer’s wounds were healing. Slowly. The bandages were fewer now, but his movements still bore stiffness, and his words, restraint. He didn’t storm or shout. He didn’t command as he once did. He simply existed—quieter, colder, but watchful.

He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days, as if his strength—once so terrifying—had frayed into something closer to fatigue than fury.

Meenal noticed.

She noticed everything now, though she gave nothing away.

She still dressed with care—silks draped with precision, her nath aligned just so, her sindoor and mangalsutra catching the light. A wife in appearance, but within, a slow disquiet. But she no longer looked in the mirror. Her reflection had become irrelevant.

Her world had narrowed to Arun's smile and his playful childhood games, his laughter echoing through the halls of their home. She found solace in his innocence, a temporary escape from the heaviness that weighed on her heart.

And yet...

On the third morning since Rajveer began walking without help, she found the baithak unusually warm. Someone had asked for an extra shawl to be placed by the window where she usually sat with Arun. A servant wouldn’t take such liberty.

But then she saw Rajveer’s shadow walking away from the window, his brow furrowed in thought.

Another day, the housekeeper approached her nervously. A breeze stirred through the latticed window, faint with the memory of jasmine. Once, the scent had meant something softer. She had forgotten.

“Thakur Shahab said you might prefer jasmine garlands in the puja room again. Like before.”

Like before.
She paused. Jasmine had once filled her puja thali, her windowsill. But it had been years since anyone remembered. The scent always brought back her childhood—soft, untouched, long gone.

She shook her head and continued with puja like a daily routine, but the memory lingered—sweet, piercing. The scent had once meant something gentler. Forgotten until now.

That night, she sat by the jharokha, watching the moonlight spill onto the courtyard tiles. Arun slept peacefully on her lap. She didn’t turn when Rajveer’s footsteps approached—slow, uneven, but deliberate.

He didn’t ask to sit. He just did.

For a moment, nothing but the rustle of neem leaves between them.

Then softly, he said, “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

She remained still. “Then don’t.”

But her voice wasn’t sharp. It was tired. Like old silk—strong, but worn.

Rajveer exhaled. “You once told me silence could protect. I used it to punish.”

She looked at him, finally. “I stopped expecting anything from you long ago.”

“I know,” he said. “I thought I’d forgotten what you looked like… until I started seeing you again.”

That stilled her. Not in love—but in recognition. For the first time, she felt seen as something other than a role.

A pause stretched. The kind that could either birth meaning or dissolve into dust.

“I never asked for your attention,” she said. "I don't have the right to demand anything from you."

“Is that what you think?" he asked, hand clenched. "After all these years of us being married."

She turned her head away at his words, feeling a mix of sadness and frustration.

A wind stirred. Somewhere in the courtyard, a petal fell. The scent of jasmine was still somehow lingering in the air, a reminder of peace and tranquility that seemed so distant in that moment of tension.

Meenal looked away, her gaze softening. Not forgiving. Not trusting. But perhaps… listening.

He didn’t reach for her hand. He didn’t lean closer. He simply sat beside her, in a silence that—for once—felt less like distance and more like space.

Nothing had changed. But something had tilted—quietly, like a curtain catching wind. The kind of shift that rewrites everything years later.

💫 Author’s Note

So I’m back with a new chapter after a long while…
Swagat nahi karoge hamara? 😌🌸

Okay… so this one was quiet. Like, really quiet. 😶
No shouting. No drama. No fiery confrontations.
Just stillness, jasmine in the air… and two people trying (and failing) to look away from each other. 🌺😳

Meenal—my poor Thakurain—is exhausted, isn’t she? 😔
She’s almost forgotten how to feel.
And Rajveer? That man is no longer the sharp-edged storm we met in the beginning.
He’s still cold… but there’s a gentleness surfacing beneath the ice. 🧊➡️🥺

This isn’t love.
Not yet.
But maybe… it’s the absence of hate? 😂
A sideways glance. A quiet pause. That moment when the person who once hurt you… also just saved you.
And maybe—just maybe—you no longer want them to walk away. 🚶‍♂️💭

The haveli is shifting.
So are they.
And I wanted you to feel that shift too—like jasmine blooming at midnight, a reminder that peace can be soft, slow, and silent. 🌙✨

Did you notice Rajveer’s change?
Did Meenal’s silence speak louder than words?

And what about our poor Aditya—now a third wheel in this fragile waltz of emotions? 😢
The haveli is full of whispers and shadows… but will they be heard before it’s too late? 🕯️🔮

Let’s chat in the comments 💌👇
Tell me what you felt!

With love always,
Shaar Shree 🤍
(P.S. The next chapter? Oh, it won’t be this quiet… brace yourself!) 👀🔥