Married to My Brother-in-Law, In Love with His Brother (Early Acess Ch 18)

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Rajveer didn't move.

The echo of the door clicked shut hung in the air—like smoke from a dying fire. Rajveer stared at the Rajasthani white marble floor beneath his feet, feeling the weight of her absence settling in his chest.

The sound of her leaving was a symphony of finality, a haunting melody that he knew would linger long after she was gone. His chest was tight, lungs aching—not from breath, but from absence.

He was trained for war, not emotion. He was a man. He was a Thakur of a proud lineage, but in that moment, he felt like a lost child. The sound of her leaving had shattered the walls he had built around his heart, leaving him vulnerable and raw.
He could hold a rifle steadier than he could hold a woman’s gaze.
And when grief came, it came like everything else in his life—quiet, disciplined, and unspoken.

She had walked out.

And he had let her.

Not because he didn’t care.
But because he didn't know how to prove that he did.

The photos of Megha laid on his bed, his past and present colliding in a jumble of memories and regrets. He lost Megha not because he didn't love her; he just didn't know how to express it. And now when she is gone, he is left with a heavy heart and a sense of emptiness that he can't shake. Meenal was right. I didn’t care when Megha was alive—not in the way that mattered. And now I live with the weight of my silence. I should’ve shown her my care. Before too late became forever.

The sun had shifted, casting a dull light across the now-empty room. Meenal's scent still lingered faintly in the folds of her sari left draped across the chair. A mixture of sandalwood, soap, and something softer—like jasmine. Or memory.

He stepped toward it—slow, cautious. As if the air itself might fracture.

He lifted her sari like it might bruise in his hands. Let it fall through his fingers. And didn’t stop it.

Soft. Fragile.

Like her voice when she said, “Why do you only love things after they’re gone?”

The words sliced through him, leaving a sharp ache in his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the fading scent of Meenal, wishing he could turn back time and show her how much she truly meant to him. But all that remained was the empty room, filled with regrets and missed opportunities.

It cut deeper than any insult could have. Because it was true.

He’d never loved out loud. Never held Megha’s hand when she was dying. Never kissed her forehead, not once. He couldn’t even remember her laughter—only the sound of her crying in labor.

And now Meenal—who had never demanded anything, not even love, but had needed it so quietly—had turned away.

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. His jhutis clicked softly on the marbled floor, rhythmic and meaningless. His eyes fell to the gold watch on his wrist—his father’s. It ticked on, steady and indifferent. Just like he had been.

He remembered his father’s voice—stern, booming, always sharpening his mustache with pride and authority.

"Feelings are for fools, Rajveer. A man does his duty. A man provides. A woman just bows her head and follows." Rajveer had always tried to live up to his father's expectations, but now he wondered if there was more to life than duty and tradition.

He had followed the code: love was weakness, silence was strength. But now, his father’s voice—once law—felt like a curse. It had hollowed him out.

The sound of his jhutis on the floor seemed to echo the emptiness he felt inside, a reminder of the life he had chosen for himself.
Now his son hated him for the same reasons he’d hated his own father. He had always thought duty was enough. But it wasn’t. Not for Arun. Not for her. Not for himself.

All that remained was silence.
And in that silence—
Lost.
Unequipped.
Unworthy.

He stood and crossed the room to the old family trunk. Opened it. Pulled out the faded photo album—one that hadn’t been touched in years. Dust puffed into the air.

Page after page of stiff smiles. Weddings. Ceremonies. Rituals.

Not a single photo where he looked happy.

And then—
A picture of Meenal.
Not recent. Maybe two years ago. She was holding Arun, mid-laugh, her hair unpinned, eyes crinkled at the corners. She smiled even when the world spun around her in chaos. While he stood there, frozen in time, unable to remember the last time he had seen her smile like that. A genuine smile that reached her eyes.

He stared at it like a relic from a life he never lived.

That laugh.
Had she ever laughed like that around him?

No.

Because he never gave her a reason to.

He gripped the edge of the trunk, knuckles white. His reflection in the mirror looked back, hollow-eyed and lined with a thousand silences.

“I’m a man,” he muttered to himself. “Not a goddamn ghost.”

But maybe that was the curse. He had spent a lifetime being the man people respected—never the one they remembered for love.
Never the kind who could be vulnerable.

He looked again at the empty room. The imprint her feet left on the rug. The silence Arun had left behind in sleep.

And for the first time in years—

He missed someone, not because they had died.
But because they had chosen to walk away.

He moved to the doorway.

Stopped.

His fingers hovered near the latch, unsure.

A part of him wanted to go after her.
To say something—anything.
To fall on his knees if that’s what it took.

But another part… the older part… whispered that dignity was all he had left.

He let out a low breath.

“No more silence,” he said. Not to the room. To himself. Like an oath too long delayed.
They felt strange. But not wrong.

He turned the handle. And for once—he didn’t hesitate.

****

Author’s Note 💬

Whew! Deep breath—men and women, right? We’re all complicated, but hey, that’s what makes this story so real (and messy). 🙃❤️

Chapter 18 feels like a major turning point—secrets are starting to unravel, walls are coming down, and hearts are finally waking up. Can you guess what’s next? 👀💥 Drop your wildest guesses in the comments below! I LOVE reading them.

Thank you SO much for sticking with me on this journey. Your support means everything. Keep sharing, keep dreaming, and keep those thoughts coming!

Don’t miss tomorrow’s reveal—subscribe now! Trust me, you’ll want to be here when the next big reveal hits! 🔥📖

Until then, stay complicated (just like me)! 😉✨

With all my love and gratitude,
Shaar Shree ❤️