The Space Between Them
Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Takur house, casting warm streaks across the marble floor. The house was alive with soft chatter, the clinking of bangles, and the comforting chaos that came from people who belonged together.
Najma stood by the kitchen doorway, watching Saraswati instruct the servants with calm authority. Her mother's presence filled the room with a quiet strength—one Najma had always admired from a distance.
"You haven't eaten," Saraswati said suddenly, turning toward her.
Najma blinked. "I wasn't hungry."
Saraswati walked closer, placing a plate into her hands. "You always say that."
Najma smiled faintly and obeyed.
Twinkle burst in moments later, phone pressed to her ear, face glowing.
"Yes, yes, I'll be ready! No, you don't get to choose my outfit!"
She hung up and spun toward Najma. "Rangeer invited us for coffee."
Najma's fingers tightened slightly around the plate.
"That's nice," she said evenly.
Twinkle hesitated. "You'll come too, right?"
Najma met her eyes. "Of course."
The café buzzed with life—soft music, laughter, the hum of conversations blending into a warm blur.
Rangeer was already there, leaning casually against the counter, sunglasses perched on his head. He looked every bit the celebrity he tried so hard to hide.
"You're late," he teased.
Twinkle scoffed. "Five minutes isn't late."
Najma greeted him with a nod. "Good morning."
His smile softened. "Morning, Najma."
They sat.
Conversation flowed easily between Rangeer and Twinkle—teasing, laughter, inside jokes. Najma listened, adding a word here and there, her presence grounding but distant.
Rangeer glanced at her more than once.
"You've been quiet," he said gently.
Najma smiled. "I enjoy listening."
Twinkle noticed the look he gave her sister.
Something twisted in her chest.
Later, as Twinkle stepped away to take a call, Rangeer leaned closer.
"You don't have to disappear when you're with us," he said quietly.
Najma met his gaze. "I'm not disappearing."
"Yes, you are," he replied softly. "You're stepping back."
She exhaled. "Some spaces aren't meant to be crowded."
Before he could respond, Twinkle returned—bright, unaware.
Najma leaned back.
The distance was set.
That evening, at the Sign residence, Ranveer reviewed documents in his study—but the words blurred.
Najma's voice echoed in his mind.
Promises are heavier than chains.
He closed the file, irritated.
Why did she linger in his thoughts?
Sasha knocked lightly. "You're distracted."
Ranveer didn't deny it.
"She's different," he said finally.
Sasha smiled faintly. "She doesn't ask to be chosen."
That unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Two days later, preparations began for another family gathering.
Najma stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her dupatta when a knock came.
Ranveer stood outside her room.
"I was told to find you," he said.
She nodded. "You found me."
They walked together down the hallway, steps falling into quiet rhythm.
"Do you ever want something for yourself?" he asked suddenly.
Najma paused.
"Yes," she answered honestly. "But wanting doesn't mean taking."
He studied her profile. "You make sacrifice sound effortless."
She met his eyes. "It's not."
Something unspoken settled between them.
Across the room, Twinkle watched them.
She didn't understand the feeling rising in her chest—but she knew one thing.
Things were changing.
And not everyone would come out unhurt