Married to my Brother in law. In love with his Brother (CH 39 Early Access)

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✨Chapter 39: When the Petals Scattered

The haveli had become a map of avoidance.

For seven days, Meenal traced new routes—through the back kitchens, the overgrown garden path, the servants’ stairwell—anywhere Rajveer’s shadow might not fall.

The frangipani tree stood untouched, its white blossoms shivering in the evening wind, like the memory of his breath against her lips.

Almost. Almost. Almost.

The word haunted her.

It had been a week since that day beneath the frangipani tree.
A week since the almost-kiss—the stolen breath neither of them dared to name.

In that time, Meenal had perfected the art of distance. She slipped through the haveli like a ghost, staying just outside his reach. It was safer to cling to silence than to risk one step too close—one step that might shatter the fragile civility they had rebuilt.

And yet…

The anklet remained in his pocket.
Its tiny chime followed him everywhere—a sound so soft, it should have been forgettable, yet it clung to the edges of every conversation, every corridor, every moment they did not speak.

Even the household had begun to notice.
Some whispered it was the wind through the marble. Others claimed it was a charm, a blessing. No one dared to ask him.

Not yet.

To Rajveer, the anklet had become a second heartbeat.
He felt its weight in every meeting, every judgment he passed, every hollow exchange with Aditya—whose silence now cut deeper than any accusation.

That evening, he found her by the temple stairs.
Meenal sat in the fading light, weaving jasmine garlands with a focus so fierce it betrayed her unsteady hands. The garland was crooked, petals bruised from the pressure of her grip.

He stood for a moment, watching the tremor in her fingers. Then—
“May I sit?”

The air shifted. A pause. A breath. The space between them thrummed like the sky before the monsoon.

When she nodded, he lowered himself beside her, taking the garland gently from her hands. His thumb brushed a crushed petal.
“You’re hurting them,” he said softly.

Her eyes didn’t meet his. “I don’t know how to hold things gently anymore.”

His chest ached. “Let me show you.”

Slowly, he unwound the broken stems, his hands moving with deliberate care. “Our life is like this mala—fragile, but stronger when woven together.” His voice dropped, each knot he tied sealing a quiet promise. “Pull too hard, and it all falls apart. But if we’re patient…” He glanced at her, “…we can keep it whole.”

Something inside her cracked.

For one reckless moment, she imagined letting him tether her to this hope. But then—

"Thakur saheb is my everything, Meenal."

Her sister’s voice, bright as the marigolds she wore the day she first met Rajveer, tore through her. The day she had claimed him as hers.

A gust of wind stirred the jasmine scent—sharp, sweet—tightening her chest until her breath came fast and shallow. The ghost of her sister’s laughter echoed through the courtyard.

“I can’t,” she whispered, the words breaking in her throat. “Not when she—”

The garland slipped from her lap, scattering between them like an accusation.

“Meenal…” His hand reached for hers, warm against the chill of the marble. “Are you—”

She shook her head quickly, the movement jerking, uneven. “I… I…” The rest would not come.

Then, in one sudden motion, she rose. White jasmine fell around her feet like snow.

“Meenal—” Rajveer caught her wrist.

But she pulled free, the pallu slipping from her head, trailing behind her like a river breaking its banks.

“I can’t do it…” Her voice was a thread unraveling as she fled into the endless corridors of the haveli.

The weight of her sister’s memory pressed against her ribs until she could barely breathe. She had lived too long in a marriage stripped of warmth, numbed by duty. And now—when a fragile hand reached for hers—why did fear close around her like a fist?

Why did she long to heal what lay between them, yet feel it would be a betrayal to the one who came before her?

She had made herself only Arun’s mother. That was her place. Her safety.

So why did the sound of his voice undo her?
Why did her heart lean toward him, again and again, despite every vow she had sworn to keep?

The answers slipped through her grasp, leaving her caught between longing and loyalty—between the life she knew and the one she was afraid to imagine.

✨ Author’s Note ✨

The haveli right now? A maze of silent battles… and Meenal and Rajveer are the two ghosts haunting it, always ending up at the same locked door. 🪔🌙

This one’s all about the silence that’s louder than a fight — the almost-touch, the almost-confession, the almost-life they both want but can’t grab. And then… the jasmine garland. 🤍

Writing this was like balancing glass in my hands. The petals. The knots. His fingers teaching gentleness. Her heart remembering only loss. And then—BAM—the sister’s voice cutting through the moment like a sword. 💔

And that ending? That pallu… trailing like a river breaking its banks. I’m still not okay. 😭

So tell me — were you screaming “Stay, Meenal, STAY!” 📣 Or did you get why she walked away?
Because right now, she can only choose one thing: longing 💞 or loyalty 🛡️.

PS: The anklet? Yep… still in his pocket. And nope, I’m not giving it back yet. 😏

With slow-burn love and shameless cliffhangers,
Shaar Shree💫