Married to My Brother-in-Law, In Love with His Brother (Early Acess Ch 10)

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The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle, but the heaviness inside Meenal's chest refused to ease. She sat on the cold floor of the dimly lit room, where the shadows of the cracked window grille moved like ghosts on the wall, clutching the broken lid of the aachar jar tightly in her dupatta. The sharp edges pressed against her palm — a painful reminder of everything shattered between her and Aditya.

A sudden, piercing cry sliced through the quiet. The baby.

Her breath caught. Slowly, she rose, knees trembling, and picked him up with the tenderness of someone carrying both a blessing and a burden.

"I left the one I loved," she whispered softly against his warm forehead, "for you, my baby — my sweet, precious child."

She kissed his tiny nose, the scent of rain and spilled mustard oil lingering in the air like memories she couldn't erase.

Hours later, Meenal stood before Rajveer in the dimly lit study. His white kurta was crisp, his expression unreadable. The baby slept soundly in the cradle nearby.

Her payals clicked softly as she stepped forward, the dawn casting gold through the windows, bathing the room in quiet fire. Her decision was made. For the child. For her sister.

"You wanted to know if I'd marry you," she said, voice steady despite the storm within her.

He looked up, dark circles bruising his eyes — evidence of many sleepless nights. Meenal took a deep breath.

"For the baby. For my sister," she said plainly.

Rajveer brushed a hand over his forehead — a gesture of frustration, of restraint. "And?"

Her gaze held him like stone. "I cannot betray her. Not even now. I will be your wife in name only — never in heart.

He stepped closer. "Then let me make it easier for you. I won't ask for anything. Not even trust. Just this — keep him safe."

Her throat tightened. She nodded.

"He will know the truth," Rajveer said. "That his mother loved him. And so did we."

"He will call me Ma. Not Massi. Not step. Just Ma."

"You will be his Maa. The Thakurain," Rajveer said. "But never my wife."

Meenal's eyes glistened. "I promise to protect him with my life. For as long as I live."

Rajveer's lips parted like he might say something more, but he stopped himself. She had made her terms clear.

She clutched her dupatta tighter, the broken pieces of the aachar jar tied in its hem pressing against her leg — a wound she'd carry quietly, always.

Outside the village, the rain fell harder — like the sky weeping for those too proud to do so themselves.

Aditya's shirt clung to him, blood seeping through the rough bandage wrapped around his hand. Villagers watched silently as he passed — a ghost walking through mud and memory.

At the gates of the Thakur Haveli, Kamini Devi stood like stone. Her sharp eyes softened the moment she saw her son.

She opened the door without a word. He entered, dripping, silent.

Upstairs, in the courtyard:

"Where is your mind, Aditya? You come in bleeding, and you won't even speak?" she asked.

He stopped at the jharokha, hand on the carved wood. His voice was flat, barely human.

"I left her. Broke everything. For Bhai. For the baby."

Kamini's tone sharpened. "You did right. Family always comes first. But don't confuse sacrifice with surrender. Love isn't weakness. It's strength — the kind that keeps you alive when everything else fails."

He shook his head. "Is it? I've never had it. Not from Father—who saw me as the son of a mistress. Not from Bhai — who thinks you stole his mother's place. And Meenal... Meenal's gone."

Kamini stepped forward, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, beta. So sorry. It's all my fault — for thinking I could outrun the shame my past brought."

She slowly unwound the soaked cloth from his hand. The gash was deep, angry.

"What did you do, beta?"

"I broke something we made together."

"The jar?" she asked gently.

"No," he whispered. "Us."

Kamini guided him to the divan, quietly cleaning the wound.

The woman who once fought the world now sat broken beside her son, their grief stitched from the same thread.

Aditya's voice trembled.

"Why am I always the mistake in someone else's story, Ma?"

Kamini bit her lip, tears threatening.

"I was born from shame. Raised like an afterthought. And when I finally loved someone who saw me... she walked away."

"I tried to be better. Someone worth choosing."

"You are not a mistake," she said, voice cracking.

"Then why do I feel like a ghost in my own home?"

"Because love costs more for people like us," she whispered. "Sometimes we have to lose before we can even begin."

He broke then. Completely.

And in her arms, Aditya wept — not as a lover, not as a brother — but as a son, crumbling in the only safe place left.

Later that night, Aditya lay asleep in her lap.

Kamini stared at a worn photograph — a barefoot boy in a dusty courtyard, eyes full of light.

"God," she whispered, "please give my son the strength to heal... and the courage to keep going. He deserves love. He deserves peace."

From the haveli's other wing, the baby's cry rang out — thin and high.

The future had not stopped breathing.

Not yet.

****

Author's Note 💬

Hey dear readers,

This chapter is raw — filled with pain, sacrifice, and the heavy weight of shame that many carry silently. 💔 Meenal's and Aditya's struggles aren't just their own; they echo the invisible battles we all face when love feels complicated or out of reach.

Writing this made me reflect on how often shame shadows love, how silence can break us, and yet, how hope still flickers in the darkest rooms. ✨

Thank you for staying with me through these difficult moments. Your support means everything. 🙏

What part of this chapter moved you the most? Drop a comment or DM — I'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings. 💭

And don't worry, the next chapter holds a glimmer of light and strength — we're only just beginning to see the true power of love in all its messy, beautiful forms. ❤️

Stay tuned, and hold onto hope.

With all my heart,

Shaar Shree.