Married to my Brother in law. In love with his Brother (CH 38 Early Access)

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✨Chapter 38: Fragments of Yesterday

Rajveer rose slowly, the anklet warm in his palm—not from metal, but from the ghost of her skin still lingering there. Arun’s laughter floated faintly from inside the haveli, light as air. But in Rajveer’s mind, heavier than all of it, were the sound of Aditya’s footsteps retreating.

He closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the fragments of the kiss before they slipped away. His fingers lingered on the anklet before tucking it into his pocket, as though it carried more than its weight—more than it should.

Their eyes had met only moments ago—apology and ache tangled together in a silence older than both of them.

From the far end of the courtyard, Aditya’s voice cut clean through the air.
“The panchayat is waiting, Bhai.”
The words carried no warmth.

Rajveer smoothed the folds of his kurta with a practiced calm, though nothing inside him was steady.
A last glance at Meenal—heavy, reluctant, like leaving a sentence unfinished.
“I will be back soon,” he said. He’d never explained his comings and goings to anyone before. He didn’t know why he wanted her to hear it. Only that he did.

He turned away, footsteps echoing against marble worn smooth by generations of Thakurs.
The distance between them had been carved long before tonight.

Meenal stayed beneath the frangipani tree, blossoms spilling their sweetness into the cool evening air. The breeze teased the edge of her sari, but her thoughts were still, tangled.

Sandalwood lingered in the space he had left, stubborn as memory.

When she finally moved, it was slow—closing the carved teak door behind her with a soft click. Silence pressed against her ears.

Her hand brushed a small shard of glass on the low shelf. A fragment from the achar jar.

The very jar she and Aditya had filled one summer—mango slices glistening in oil and spice, their laughter chasing away the hum of cicadas.
Before the fractures.
Before the silence.
Before she married Rajveer and became Arun’s mother.

She turned the shard until it caught the light—her reflection fractured into uneven pieces, as if the glass remembered her choices.
A perfect piece from something broken.

She had shattered what they’d once had—hopes that never rooted, words never spoken, love that no longer lived.
And yet, this shard had stayed with her.
Not because she wanted it.
But because some memories refuse to fade, even when the heart moves on.

It was a relic of a time when she felt whole. And a reminder that when love ends, its echoes can hold tighter than any promise.

Her palm stung where the glass bit in, grounding her. Her gaze lifted to a photograph on the wall—her and her sister, sunlit and smiling.
A pang twisted in her chest as the kiss under the frangipani bloomed again in her mind—hot, impossible, and wanted far more than it should have been.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered—not sure if it was for the kiss, or for wanting it.
“For the rights I never meant to steal. For the silence I broke.”

Outside, Rajveer leaned against a pillar, the night air thick against his skin. The door closed behind him with a muted thud.

He touched the anklet in his pocket, its curve pressing into his palm like a question he wasn’t ready to answer.

The kiss replayed in his mind—soft, hesitant, more confession than act.
It was everything.
And it could never be.

He was a man shaped in iron—rules, duty, a will that punished weakness.
Love had never been something that softened him; it had been a fragile flame, easily smothered. Megha had been that flame once, and he had let it die beneath the weight of his own mistakes.

Now, loving Meenal would mean breaking every law written into his bones.
It would mean laying down the armor.
It would mean bleeding.

And yet… he wanted to.
Not just to be the Thakur’s heir.
But a husband.
A father.
A man capable of something softer.

Through the jali, moonlight spilled in narrow bands across the floor, holding the night in quiet arrest.

Still, somewhere inside, a flicker—
That maybe he could learn to love differently.

For Meenal.
For Arun.
For himself.

The path ahead was uncertain.
The cost would be high.
But for the first time, he was willing.

The anklet shifted in his pocket, chiming once—soft, almost questioning.
He didn’t have the answer yet.
But perhaps, when the time came, he would.

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✨ Author’s Note✨

So… we finally slowed down after that kiss. 💔🌙 This chapter isn’t about grand gestures — it’s about the quiet aftermath, the kind that stays in the bones.

Rajveer is holding an anklet, Meenal is holding a shard of glass — two objects, two lives, both pieces of something broken, both somehow still carrying weight. 🪔🪞

I wanted this chapter to feel like walking barefoot in a silent courtyard… every step soft, but every step heavy. No shouting, no declarations, just the kind of honesty that exists when you’re alone with your thoughts.

And yes… the anklet is still with him. Did you think I’d let that go so easily? 😏

Also, I’m curious — did you notice how both Meenal and Rajveer are looking at the same moment from two different worlds? She’s tangled in old memories, he’s daring to imagine a softer future. That’s the real tension here.

Tell me — do you think love born out of impossible circumstances can survive? Or does it always remain a fragment of yesterday? 🫶

See you in the next chapter… where silence might not be enough anymore. 🌸🔥

With love,
Shaar Shree💫