A Wedding, a Misunderstanding, and the Gentle Beginning of a New Family

With time, he agreed, and we introduced him to Rekha, a kind and thoughtful woman in her mid-forties. They spoke often, discovered shared interests, and gradually grew comfortable around each other. When they finally married, the ceremony followed traditional customs—a mandap draped in flowers, a warm gathering of relatives, and a gentle happiness on both their faces.

My father wore a sherwani that somehow made him look years younger. Rekha looked elegant in a cream-white sari. As they completed the rituals, tied the sacred thread, and exchanged blessings, it felt as though hope had re-entered our home.

After the festivities, everyone teased my father good-naturedly as he escorted Rekha toward their room, both of them smiling shyly. The families were filled with happiness, thinking the transition was smooth.

But about an hour later, we heard soft crying from behind their door.

My brother and I rushed toward the room, worried. When I stepped inside, the scene made me freeze.

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