Married to my Brother in law, In Love with his Brother (CH 37 Early Access)

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*****

✨Chapter 37: A Breath Between Heartbeats

The heart rarely announces what it wants.

Sometimes, it simply leans closer…

Arun was humming again.

Not loudly—just a soft, tuneless melody stitched together from temple bells and the nonsense of childhood.

His bare feet padded across the courtyard in uneven circles, chasing shadows that danced just out of reach.

Meenal watched from the balcony,

Wrapped in a soft shawl, a forgotten cup of chai cooling in her hand.

The haveli was dipped in amber light—the kind of evening gold that softened the edges of everything it touched.

Even the cracks in the marble looked like stories instead of flaws.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

She smiled.

Not a practiced smile.

Not a polite one.

A quiet, real thing.

The kind that slipped out before she could catch it.

Until Arun stopped spinning.

He froze suddenly, as if her gaze had brushed against his skin.

Looked up.

Grinned.

“Maa!” he shouted, all arms and excitement. “Come! Come quickly!”

Before she could say a word, he bolted into the haveli.

She didn’t expect what came next.

Arun returned—dragging someone behind him like a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

Rajveer.

Her breath hitched.

They hadn’t spoken since this morning’s puja.

But really, they hadn’t spoken since before the wedding that was never meant to be theirs.

Now he stood beneath the balcony, caught in the fading light.

Looking up.

At her.

And freezing—just a second too long.

Just long enough.

Then Arun, with the regal authority only a six-year-old could summon, declared,

“Aap dono yahan baithiye. I’ve made a new leela. But the king and queen must sit together.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

To excuse herself.

But Rajveer was already raising an amused brow.

“Your prince has spoken," he murmured, almost smiling.

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t know how to.

So she followed.

***

The bench under the frangipani tree had seen its share of silence.

But never this kind.

They sat—awkwardly angled, not quite distant, not quite close.

Something thrummed between them—

Not tension, but the ghost of a feeling remembering how to live.

Arun had already dashed off again—stick in hand, battling invisible rakshasas.

Meenal smoothed the pleats of her saree.

Rajveer shifted his weight.

The air was warm, but her skin prickled.

Then—

The breeze.

Soft. Slow.

Her pallu slipped.

A whisper of fabric. A delicate slide off her shoulder.

She moved to catch it—

But his hand was already there.

He caught the fabric mid-fall.

And in the motion, his fingers brushed hers.

Stillness.

Her breath stalled in her throat.

He adjusted the sari gently. Not like ownership—like memory. Like regret. Like something trying to be forgiven.

She looked down.

Her voice, when it came, was small.

“Thank you.”

He said nothing.

But he didn’t look away.

Neither did she.

***

Then—Arun returned. Breathless. Glorious.

“I vanquished all the rakshasas!” he declared, arms wide, cheeks flushed.

“The kingdom is safe again!”

He flung himself into her lap, and Meenal laughed, catching him mid-fall.

The sound surprised her.

Rajveer chuckled under his breath. A rare sound.

A sound that made something shift behind her ribs.

Arun looked up at them both—eyes bright with triumph and mischief.

Then, gently, he said,

“Ab to rani maa muskura rahi hain…"

(Now the queen is smiling again…)

Then added innocently,

“The Prince has returned victorious.”

Meenal’s heart swelled as she ruffled Arun’s hair, warmth blooming in her chest.

But Arun didn't smiled he stared at her and Rajveer with a serious expression, his eyes holding a depth beyond his years.“Maa, but the king and queen are always together, right?” Arun asked, peering up at her with wide, wondering eyes.

She smiled softly. “Yes, my dear. The King and Queen are always together, just like us.”

But Arun frowned thoughtfully. “Then why aren’t you and Baba always together? You two don’t even smile at each other like the King and Queen do.”

Meenal’s smile faltered.

She blinked.

Looked at Rajveer.

He looked back.

Soft. Uncertain.

They didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Before either could respond, Arun caught sight of a butterfly and ran toward it, stick still in hand, off to save the world again.

Leaving them.

Alone.

Again.

Still smiling faintly, she shook her head.

“Where did he run off to now?" she asked, voice almost playful.

But it faded.

Because he hadn’t smiled.

Not this time.

He was looking at her.

And the laughter caught behind her ribs again.

Then—he leaned in.

Just slightly.

Testing. Not assuming.

She didn’t move.

Their foreheads brushed first.

Then noses.

And then—

Lips.

Barely a kiss.

Just contact.

Soft. Tentative. Unsure.

Like they were borrowing the idea of it.

His hand hovered near her cheek but didn’t land.

Hers gripped the bench just a little too tightly.

It was nothing.

And somehow—everything.

A whisper of something older than both of them, finally daring to surface.

***

But then—

Footsteps.

Deliberate. Measured.

Heavy enough to shatter the stillness.

Aditya.

He stopped at the courtyard’s edge.

Saw them.

Not imagined.

Not misunderstood.

Saw.

The distance between them.

The not-quite kiss.

The something that had bloomed and immediately tried to hide.

His face didn’t change.

Not immediately.

But the flicker in his eyes—

That was a storm barely held at bay.

He clenched his jaw.

Then his fists.

Didn’t say a word.

Meenal saw him first.

Then Rajveer turned—

He stood slowly, instinctively stepping between her and his brother’s gaze.

A quiet shield.

The anklet in his pocket shifted.

Chimed.

Like betrayal.

Like confession.

Like fate mocking softly.

Arun, ever unaware, ran to his Chachu.

“You missed it! I saved the whole world!”

Aditya forced a smile. Crouched. Ruffled his hair.

“I always do,” he said.

Voice too calm. Too practiced.

Then he stood. Brushed his kurta. Nodded once toward the haveli.

“The panchayat has been waiting for you, Bhai. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

Didn’t look back.

Because if he did, he would break.

Meenal had married Rajveer out of duty.

But Aditya had loved her first.

And he had once wondered if she loved him back.

And was it so easy for her to move on?

Because even years after Meenal’s marriage, even after everything had changed between them, Aditya’s heart still ached.

For her.

For a love he had let slip away.

***

As his footsteps faded, Rajveer slowly sat again.

The chime in his pocket echoed faintly.

He didn’t return it.

Not yet.

Because some kinds of love don’t arrive fully formed.

Arun’s stick clattered against the stones in the distance.

His world was still simple—monsters to slay, kingdoms to save.

But Meenal’s battles were quieter. And far harder to win.

They stumble.

They hesitate.

They trip over childhood games and unfinished glances.

Some loves are born in awkward silences.

In the breath between heartbeats.

In the almost-kisses and the glances that look away too quickly.

She touched her lips. Still warm. Still unsure.

But not running.

Not anymore.

Under the frangipani tree, something had begun—

Not with a declaration, but with a borrowed breath.

A dream reawakened.

But some dreams aren’t true.

Some were never hers to begin with.

Just paused.

Waiting for the next breath.

Yet even in that beginning, her heart whispered regrets.

Because she was never meant to be his.

Her sister had loved him first.

And even in death, Meenal could not betray her memory by reaching out for something that was not hers.

Even when she was Rajveer’s wife.

Even as Arun’s mother.

To her, he would always be her sister’s first love.

Forever out of reach.

*****

💌 Author’s Note

Hey you. Yes, you—still here, reading this story with your whole heart. ❤️

This chapter broke me. 💔

Not because of what was said, but because of everything that wasn’t. 😶‍🌫️

It was about the almosts:

✨ Almost touched.

✨ Almost kissed.

✨ Almost confessed.

And yet—it felt like everything. 🥺

Rajveer and Meenal finally shared a moment that was theirs. Just theirs.

Under a frangipani tree. 🌸

A child, the unexpected spark. 👶

No drama. No declarations. Just silence and breath.

And then—Aditya.

Quiet. Watching. Hurting. 🕊️

Writing him hurt more than I expected. 😢

This chapter was a pause.

A breath between chaos and clarity. 🍃

A moment you don’t realize is everything—until it’s gone. 🕰️

Thank you for feeling this with me. 💌

Next one? Buckle up. 🎢🔥

With love,

💖 Shaar Shree