*Chapter 13 – When Walls Fell Away
The idea of Lonavala came suddenly, like most good ideas do—unplanned, impulsive, born out of exhaustion rather than excitement.
Niddhi had finished her exams two days ago. The relief still sat fresh on her shoulders, light and buoyant, making her restless in a way only freedom after discipline could. She paced the living room that morning, phone in hand, eyes bright.
“I need air,” she announced dramatically. “If I stay in Mumbai one more day, I’ll start revising for no reason.”
Suhani laughed softly from the dining table, where she was sorting office papers. “Normal people celebrate finishing exams, Niddhi. They don’t panic.”
“I am celebrating,” Niddhi replied. “By escaping.”
Her eyes slid toward Dhruv, who was standing near the window, on a work call, calm as ever. He ended the call, turning slightly toward them.
“Escaping where?” he asked.
“Lonavala,” Niddhi said immediately. “Villa. Green. Quiet. No deadlines. No alarms. Just people.”
Dhruv raised an eyebrow. “People?”
“Our people,” she clarified quickly. “A few friends. Nothing loud. Promise.”
Suhani looked up, surprised. “You already planned this?”
“I planned the *idea*,” Niddhi said proudly. “Execution pending approval.”
Dhruv considered it for a moment. His schedule was heavy, his mind heavier. Yet something in the thought of leaving—of stepping away from glass buildings and measured conversations—felt necessary.
“Alright,” he said finally. “Three days.”
Niddhi squealed and hugged him before he could reconsider.
Suhani watched the exchange quietly. She hadn’t thought about trips lately. Life had become a series of careful steps, measured decisions. But perhaps that was exactly why she needed this.
---
### **Convincing Home**
Calling her family was the harder part.
Suhani sat on the edge of the bed that evening, phone pressed to her ear, listening to her mother’s voice flutter with excitement about an upcoming cousin’s engagement.
“Ma,” she said gently, “I wanted to talk about something.”
There was a pause. Mothers always sensed weight before words.
“Yes, beta?”
“I… I won’t be marrying for a few years.”
Silence.
Her father’s voice joined the call, calmer but no less serious. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Suhani said quickly. “Everything is fine. I’m happy. I just— I want to focus on my career. I’m finally building something of my own.”
Her mother sighed softly. “We worry, Suhani. Everyone around you—”
“I know,” she interrupted gently. “And I feel the pressure too. But I don’t want to choose out of fear. If I ever marry, I want it to be because it feels right.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
Her father spoke first. “You’ve always been responsible. If you say you need time, we trust you.”
Her mother’s voice wavered. “Just promise you won’t close your heart completely.”
“I won’t,” Suhani whispered. “I promise.”
“Find someone on your own,” her father added. “If you wish. We will stand by you.”
When the call ended, Suhani stared at the blank screen, emotions tangling inside her. Relief. Guilt. Gratitude.
She exhaled.
Lonavala suddenly felt like more than a break. It felt like a pause granted by life itself.
---
### **The Drive**
They left early the next morning.
Two cars. One villa booked discreetly in the hills. A small group—Niddhi, Dhruv, Suhani, Rhea, Arjun, and two others from Niddhi’s circle.
Suhani sat in the backseat, watching the city slowly loosen its grip. Buildings gave way to trees, noise softened into distance. The air changed.
Niddhi leaned forward from the front passenger seat, turning to grin at her.
“Excited?”
“Yes,” Suhani admitted. “I forgot how good it feels to leave.”
“Good,” Niddhi said knowingly. “You need this.”
Dhruv drove quietly, focused yet relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely. No phone calls. No interruptions.
For the first time, Suhani noticed how different he seemed without the city around him—less sharp-edged, more human.
---
### **The Villa**
The villa sat tucked into greenery, white walls kissed by sunlight, balconies opening into misty hills. A pool shimmered at the back, reflecting the sky. The air smelled of damp earth and pine.
“This is perfect,” Rhea exclaimed, already clicking pictures.
Niddhi stretched her arms wide. “Welcome to freedom.”
Bags were unloaded, rooms chosen, laughter echoing through the halls. There were no titles here. No assistants. No meetings.
Just people.
Suhani stood on the balcony of her room for a moment, breathing deeply. Somewhere below, Dhruv’s voice carried faintly as he spoke to Arjun, relaxed, amused.
She realized then how rarely she had seen him like this.
---
### **Real Selves**
By evening, the villa felt lived in.
Music played softly. Someone chopped vegetables in the kitchen. Someone else argued over card games. Laughter floated freely, unfiltered.
Suhani helped Niddhi arrange snacks near the pool.
“You know,” Niddhi said casually, “this is probably the most normal my brother ever looks.”
Suhani smiled. “He looks… lighter.”
Niddhi glanced at her sideways. “Careful. That’s how it starts.”
Suhani rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“Being Mrs. Dhruv Khanna won’t be easy,” Niddhi continued teasingly. “The surname alone comes with responsibilities.”
Suhani ignored her, focusing on the plates. She hadn’t even thought about the mutual agreement since that conversation. The folder remained untouched in her bag.
Niddhi noticed the silence and smirked. “Ignoring me won’t make it untrue.”
Suhani straightened. “You talk too much.”
“I talk facts,” Niddhi replied cheerfully.
---
### **Rhea’s Interest**
Rhea, meanwhile, had fixed her attention elsewhere.
She hovered near Dhruv, laughing a little louder at his comments, asking questions she already knew the answers to. She asked Niddhi for help choosing wine, used her as an excuse to linger.
“Your brother is…” Rhea paused dramatically. “Different.”
Niddhi raised an eyebrow. “That’s one word.”
“Introduce me properly,” Rhea said, half-joking.
Niddhi smiled. “You’ve already been introduced.”
“But you know what I mean,” Rhea insisted.
Niddhi watched Dhruv from a distance. His responses were polite, measured. He listened but didn’t lean in. Maintained space without appearing cold.
“I can help a little,” Niddhi said finally. “But don’t expect miracles.”
Rhea grinned, encouraged.
Suhani observed quietly from the poolside chair, unsure why something about the scene unsettled her.
---
### **Bonfire Confessions**
That night, they lit a bonfire.
The air was cool, flames dancing, shadows flickering across faces. Stories flowed—college memories, embarrassing moments, dreams spoken aloud.
Niddhi sat close to Suhani, wrapped in a shawl.
“You know,” she said suddenly, voice softer, “bhai isn’t distant with everyone. Just with expectations.”
Suhani turned to her.
“He’s very close to our grandparents,” Niddhi continued. “Especially dadi. He calls her every morning, no matter where he is. They talk about everything—from business to weather to my terrible habits.”
Suhani smiled at the image.
“He learned patience from her,” Niddhi added. “And kindness from nana.”
Across the fire, Dhruv laughed at something Arjun said. The sound surprised Suhani—it was unguarded, warm.
Rhea took the moment to sit closer to him, handing him a mug.
“For you,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied politely, shifting just enough to keep distance.
Niddhi leaned toward Suhani and whispered, “See? Reserved. Always.”
Suhani shook her head. “You enjoy this too much.”
“Because it’s obvious,” Niddhi said. “Even when you don’t see it.”
---
### **Private Truths**
Later, when most had drifted inside, Niddhi pulled Suhani aside near the balcony.
“You handled your family well,” she said quietly.
Suhani blinked. “How did you—”
“You told me once,” Niddhi smiled. “And I can tell. You look… lighter.”
Suhani nodded. “They were disappointed. But they understood.”
“They love you,” Niddhi said simply. Then, after a pause, “Bhai’s family isn’t very different. They don’t push. They wait.”
She looked at Suhani meaningfully.
Suhani’s heart skipped, but she said nothing.
---
### **The Night Ends**
As the bonfire died down, conversations softened. Stars emerged shyly above the hills.
Dhruv stood alone for a moment, looking out into the dark.
Suhani joined him quietly.
“Beautiful,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied.
They stood side by side, not touching, not distant either.
No agreements. No labels. Just presence.
And in that stillness, something fragile and real took shape—not spoken, not claimed.
Just felt.
Lonavala had done what it always did best.
It stripped them of their walls.
And what remained was honesty, waiting patiently to be named.
