Chapter 15: A House Without Welcome
857 Words
Arjun had delayed this day as long as he could.
Not because he was ashamed of Lina—never that—but because he knew his home was not a gentle place for a woman like her. The Malhotra house stood tall and elegant, its walls carrying generations of pride, rules, and unspoken judgments.
As the car rolled through the gates, Lina’s hands rested quietly on her lap. Her face was calm, but inside, her heart beat like a warning drum.
“This is it,” Arjun said softly. “My home.”
Lina nodded. “I know.”
The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted.
“So,” Arjun’s mother said, her voice cool and sharp, “you have finally brought her home.”
“Mother—” Arjun began.
She raised a hand, silencing him. “Everyone in this city has met my son’s fiancée. Society women, business leaders, reporters. I am the only one who has not been formally introduced.”
Lina bowed her head slightly. “Good evening, mother.”
Arjun’s mother’s lips curved—not into a smile, but something colder. “Who is your mother?” she asked pointedly. “You are not married yet. No boundaries. And who knows whether you ever will be?”
The words sliced through the room.
“Enough,” Arjun’s father, Vikram Malhotra, said firmly as he stepped forward. “This is not how we welcome a guest.”
He turned to Lina, his voice gentle. “My child, please sit.”
Lina obeyed, grateful for even that small mercy.
Riya, seated nearby, sighed dramatically. “I heard you embarrassed yourself at yesterday’s dinner,” she said casually. “But we understand. You’ve never attended that kind of gathering before.”
Lina lowered her eyes.
Dinner was announced shortly after.
In the dining room, the assault continued—subtle, polished, relentless.
Arjun’s mother watched Lina closely as she sat. “You hold your fork too stiffly,” she commented. “Relax your wrist. That’s how ladies of good upbringing do it.”
“Yes,” Riya added smoothly. “And your posture—straight, but not rigid. You don’t want to look… trained.”
Lina adjusted quietly, heat rising behind her eyes.
In the kitchen, when Lina offered to help, Arjun’s mother handed her a bowl of vegetables. “Cut them evenly,” she instructed. “Presentation matters. We are not in a roadside kitchen.”
Riya glanced at Lina’s hands. “Your bangles are loud,” she remarked. “High society prefers subtlety.”
As they walked back to the sitting room, Arjun’s mother slowed deliberately, watching Lina’s steps. “You walk too fast,” she said. “A woman of refinement glides.”
Even conversation was a battlefield.
When Lina spoke, Riya interrupted.
When Lina stayed quiet, she was called dull.
When Lina smiled, it was labeled forced.
Each remark was small. Each one precise. Together, they crushed.
By the time night fell, Lina felt hollow.
She was shown to Arjun’s room to rest. The moment the door closed behind them, her strength collapsed.
She sat on the edge of the bed, trembling.
Then she cried.
Not quietly. Not politely.
She cried the way someone cries when dignity has been peeled away layer by layer. Her shoulders shook as tears soaked into Arjun’s shirt when he pulled her into his arms.
“Tell me,” she sobbed, voice breaking. “Tell me what I have done wrong to deserve all this.”
Arjun held her tightly, his jaw clenched. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.”
“I tried,” she whispered. “I tried so hard to fit. But no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I promise you—when my mother gets to know you, she will like you.”
Lina shook her head, tears still falling. “She doesn’t want to know me. She wants to break me.”
Arjun wiped her tears gently, whispered jokes, held her until her crying softened into quiet breaths. He stayed awake long after she finally slept, staring at the ceiling, fury burning silently in his chest.
Morning came like an escape.
Lina packed quietly, relief washing over her as if she were leaving a burning house.
In the hall, Arjun’s mother stood waiting.
“I do not approve of her,” she said coldly, not even looking at Lina.
Arjun stopped.
His voice was calm—but final.
“Mother,” he said, “you will accept her.”
She turned sharply. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I will marry into her family,” he replied. “I will live as a son-in-law in her home. Mark my words.”
Silence crashed down.
Lina’s eyes widened. “Arjun—”
He took her hand. “I choose her.”
They walked out together, leaving behind stunned faces and a house full of pride that had just been challenged.
And for the first time, Arjun’s mother realized—
This girl was not passing through.
She was here to stay.
- Writer
