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Married to my Brother in law. In love with his Brother (Early Acess Ch 31)
Chapter 31 Is it care or something else
✨ If you haven’t read Chapter 1 yet, what are you waiting for? Head over to my Wattpad page and catch up—it’s live and waiting for you! 📖💫 Or visit my website to read all chapter that might have missed.
Now… let’s dive back in, shall we? 😉
*****
Chapter 31 Is it care or something else
The morning light had grown warmer by the time Rita entered the reading salon, wiping her hands on the edge of her sari. She hesitated at the doorway, eyes flickering briefly over Meenal before speaking.
“Thakurain… the cook wants to know what to prepare for lunch today.”
Meenal looked up from where she sat, the half-read book still resting on her lap. “Hmm… let’s keep it simple today. Make bhindi masala, dal tadka, and fresh rotis.”
Rita smiled softly. “That’s Thakur Sahib’s favorite.”
Meenal’s mouth parted in surprise, realizing she’d revealed more than she meant to. “Arun is like that too,” she corrected quickly, hoping to divert any suspicion.
Rita paused, concern flashing across her face. “Are you… alright, Thakurain?”
The question caught Meenal off guard. She quickly gathered her composure and offered a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Rita. Come, let’s see what help I can offer in the kitchen.”
Rita looked surprised but pleased, nodding. “Ji.”
Together, they walked to the kitchen, where the cooks were already busy kneading dough and chopping vegetables. Meenal quietly rolled out the dough, her movements graceful yet purposeful. Then she took over preparing the tadka for the dal, the scent of cumin and garlic filling the air as Rita watched with fondness.
Without saying it aloud, both knew what this unspoken gesture meant.
It was not about the food.
It was about him.
By noon, the house grew livelier as family members gathered for lunch. The clatter of steel utensils and soft murmurs filled the dining hall. Meenal sat beside little Arun, feeding him tender pieces of soft roti soaked in dal.
“Say aaa,” Meenal coaxed, her smile gentle.
Arun wrinkled his nose. “Nahi, Maa!”
She laughed softly, holding up the last bite. “Then the roti will be sad, see? Only one piece left.”
His giggle finally broke his resistance. “Okay. Just one.”
Arun continued eating. But Rajveer’s chair remained empty.
Aditya, noticing Meenal’s lingering gaze, cleared his throat. “Bhai is still in discussion with the district envoy.”
Meenal nodded, lowering her eyes to her plate, though she could feel the weight of others’ glances. When lunch drew to a close and Arun’s tiny belly was full, she quietly excused herself.
The corridor leading to Rajveer’s study was still. She carried the tray herself—fresh rotis, bhindi, dal, and warm rice—the exact meal he favored.
Why am I doing this? she thought, feeling a mix of worry and guilt.
At his door, she paused. Soft voices murmured inside. The man sitting with Rajveer stood to leave as she entered. For a moment, Rajveer seemed surprised to see her carrying the tray.
“You’re late for lunch,” she said softly.
He sat stiffly on the sofa, his right arm still bound tightly in a plaster cast. The injury from the recent accident was healing, but it left him dependent—and, she suspected, deeply frustrated.
“I’ve been... busy,” he replied, his voice low.
She set the tray down before him. “You need to eat. You have to take your medicine as well."
Rajveer sighed, his eyes avoiding hers. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Sorry again. From that day, the words once forbidden to him began to flow freely. Only for her.
Rajveer stared at the food for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably. His left hand moved hesitantly, attempting to tear the roti, but the motion was clumsy. The plastered arm lay heavy across his lap.
Meenal watched him struggle in silence for a few beats, something tightening in her chest.
“How have you been managing these past days?” she asked quietly. “You’re shaking.” She instinctively reached out to steady his hand, then stopped herself, pulling back. It wasn’t her place.
He glanced away, pride visible even in that small gesture. “I haven’t had… a full meal in days.”
Her breath caught at the confession. She hadn’t expected him to admit it aloud.
As she watched him bring a small bite to his lips with so much effort, guilt pricked her. She hadn’t even noticed his struggle until now.
Her hand hovered, unsure. Was this care or betrayal? She shouldn’t be the one offering him comfort. She shouldn’t want to. But watching him—so helpless, so proud—made it impossible to stay still.
Finally, she exhaled softly, her voice barely a whisper. “May I… help you?”
His eyes lifted to hers—startled, vulnerable. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
She continued, her voice steadier now. “Not as your wife. Not as anything more than… one human to another.”
His throat worked, jaw tightening as he wrestled with the admission of need. Then, after a breath that seemed too long, he gave a single, reluctant nod.
Meenal drew the tray closer, carefully tearing pieces of roti, dipping them into the warm dal, and raising each bite to his lips. He accepted each morsel wordlessly, the tension between them thick but softened by the intimacy of the moment.
The only sound was the soft clink of utensils and the quiet rhythm of slow, careful feeding. With each bite, something unspoken passed between them—something neither dared name yet.
Her bangles chimed softly as she fed him, her eyes never leaving his face. The weight of their unspoken connection hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a fragile, forbidden tenderness.
Their fingers brushed briefly as she tore another piece of roti. Her breath caught, but neither of them spoke. His gaze dipped for a second to her hands—small, careful, trembling—before meeting her eyes again.
And for a few fragile minutes, the weight of the past, the guilt, and the forbidden lines blurred into nothing but simple, unspoken care. They both knew this moment was borrowed—fragile as glass—but neither dared let it shatter.
For now, it was enough. For now, it was everything.
But beneath the silence, something fragile and dangerous was already beginning to bloom.
*****
Author's Note 💕✨
Okay, whew! 😮💨
Did anyone else feel that tiny breathless moment when Meenal fed him? The brush of fingers? The soft “may I help you?” I swear I was holding my breath like a total fool 🤭.
You guys… this is no longer just duty. No longer just care. This is that forbidden tenderness blooming like a soft little wildflower where it was never supposed to grow 🌱✨.
Rajveer, Mr. “I-don’t-need-help,” is letting her in.
And Meenal… well, she’s fighting a war inside. The guilt. The care. The fear. The hope. 🥺
But this is only the beginning, isn’t it? 👀
Do you think Rajveer even fully understands what he's feeling?
Or is Meenal falling first? 😳
💬 Comment below — I LIVE for your theories! 🔥
💌 And don’t forget to follow me on IG: @authorshaarshree for sneak peeks, spoilers & behind-the-scenes updates! 📸🎉
#TeamMeenal #ForbiddenCare #SlowBurnMadness #RajveerSoftening #HeartClenchAlert #NextChapterSoon
With silent tension, shifting hearts, and innocent hands,
Married to my Brother in law. In love with his Brother by— Shaar Shree ✨
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