AVINESH RAM
762 Words
“Mom, what’s your problem?” Avinesh’s voice cut through the living room like a knife. His jaw tightened, tone firm. “Enough. For God’s sake, stop trying to change my mind. I’m living a calm, sorted life—don’t ruin it. I’m happy, I’m satisfied. I’m not marrying anyone. Especially not that advocate. And that’s final.”
The weight of his words landed heavily. Gayathri stood frozen, her son’s words slicing straight through the hope she had held onto.
Avinesh’s life had been peaceful—uncluttered and controlled. Marriage, in his eyes, was more than a ritual. It was responsibility, compromise, emotional surrender. And none of those things fit into the world he’d carved out for himself. He was one. Complete. Self-contained. His solitude was sacred, his freedom non-negotiable.
It wasn’t that he hated relationships—he simply didn’t trust them. Not anymore. He’d seen too much, felt too much. Now, when his life was finally on track, he wasn’t about to derail it chasing illusions.
“Avinesh,” Gayathri pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of motherly concern, “just give this one chance. Please.”
He exhaled, exasperated. “A chance? Mom, girls today don’t care about values. It’s all about the paycheck. I earn forty thousand—not even fifty. No one’s going to line up to give their daughter to a man like me. So stop dreaming.”
He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but he’d seen the trend—relationships built on beauty and bank balance. No one looked deeper anymore. Realness was rare. Trust, rarer.
“Just one chance,” came another voice, calm and steady.
Chandrashekhar walked forward, a rare seriousness in his eyes. He didn’t argue, didn’t scold—he simply sat beside Avinesh and silently pulled out his phone. A single image filled the screen.
“This is Rithu Krishna,” he said, offering the phone without forcing it.
Avinesh glanced at the image—poised eyes, strong features, an undeniable aura of confidence and defiance. There was something unsettlingly composed about her.
“She’s an advocate,” Chandrashekhar began, “and from what I’ve gathered, people call her arrogant, stubborn, hard to deal with. But that’s not her character—it’s her job. That sharpness? That attitude? That’s courtroom armor.”
He leaned forward slightly. “But when I saw her, something clicked. She’s got fire, the kind that doesn't shrink. I liked that. Beneath that exterior, she’s a gem. Firstborn, carries the weight of her family on her shoulders. She’s not perfect, but she’s real.”
Avinesh stayed silent, but his eyes remained on the phone. Something about her expression—composed, sharp, guarded—drew him in.
“I trust your instincts, Dad,” he finally said, low but steady. “And if you’re the one speaking for her, not just mom, then I’m listening.”
Gayathri’s lips parted in disbelief. “Chandrashekhar… really?”
“I spoke to her father,” Chandrashekhar said, turning to her. “Got a good feel for the family. And for her. I think—no, I believe—she’ll suit our home. Not perfect, not traditional. But right.”
He turned to Avinesh, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Meet her. Once. That’s all I ask. You’ll know for yourself.”
Avinesh leaned back, silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “Okay, Dad. Fix a time. I’ll meet her.”
Gayathri let out a squeal, hands flying to her face. “Chandrashekhar! Did you hear him? He said yes!”
Avinesh raised an eyebrow. “Easy, Mom. I agreed to meet her, not marry her.”
But even as he said it, something within him shifted. The picture still lingered in his mind—those sharp eyes, that unreadable smile. He cleared his throat.
“Dad, forward that photo to me.”
Chandrashekhar chuckled. “Whoa… someone’s curious.”
“Just want to have a look,” Avinesh said coolly. Then, in a more serious tone, “Did you tell her family about me? My job, my salary?”
Gayathri and Chandrashekhar exchanged a glance.
“No,” Chandrashekhar answered. “I had a formal talk with her father. Nothing about salary, or lifestyle. We just agreed you two should meet first. If you like her, and she likes you, we move forward. If not… we stop here. No pressure.”
Avinesh’s chest tightened unexpectedly at the words we stop here. He wasn’t the kind to fall easily—but something about this girl had already
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