After the Yes
Chapter 1: The Room We Didn’t Choose
[Scene: Wedding night. Bedroom. Two suitcases. One bed. One silence.
Kabir walks in first. Removes his watch. Doesn’t look back.
Inaaya enters softly, gold lehenga slightly trailing, dupatta still pinned.]
Kabir
You can take the bed.
Inaya
(standing near the door):
It’s yours too.
Kabir
We don’t have to pretend tonight.
Inaya
I’m not pretending.
I’m just… here.
Kabir
Right.
Here because two families wanted us here.
Inaya
(quietly)
You didn’t want this?
[Silence. He sits on the edge of the bed. She stays standing. Not offended — just… still.]
Inaya
(after a long pause):
Your mother said you were honest.
Kabir
(half a laugh):
Didn’t think you’d get the honest version on day one, huh?
Inaya
I’d rather this than fake smiles and forced poetry.
Inaya
I was taught that storms pass faster if you stay still.
[He finally looks up. Really looks at her. Her face isn’t bold. It’s soft. Open. No makeup drama. Just real skin. Real eyes. A little tired. A little brave.]
Kabir
You’re… not what I imagined.
Inaya
(walking to her suitcase):
So we start with respect.
Not romance. Not expectations.
[She picks out a simple cotton night suit. Not shy, but not showy either. Walks past him toward the bathroom.]
Kabir
(before she shuts the door):
Hey.
Inaya
(turns slightly):
Yes?
Kabir
You looked beautiful tonight.
Inaya
(soft smile):
Thank you.
You looked… trapped.
Inaya
Maybe one day, you won’t be.
[Door closes. He exhales. For the first time tonight, not from pressure — but from something else. Maybe curiosity.]
Chapter 2: The Morning After
[Scene: Next morning. Dining room. Early sun, clinking cutlery. Kabir enters wearing a loose grey T-shirt and track pants. His hair is messy. Eyes… cautious. Inaaya is already at the table. Simple cotton kurti. No makeup. Wet hair tied in a low bun. She’s helping his mother serve breakfast.]
Kabir
(sitting slowly):
You wake up early?
Inaya
(without looking up):
Habit.
Yours?
Kabir
Alarms.
And now… marriage.
Inaya
(smiles slightly):
Good morning to you too.
[His mother places a plate in front of him. Aloo paratha. A small bowl of curd.]
Sneha:ml mom
Inaaya made the paratha.
Kabir
(surprised):
Seriously?
Inaya
(quietly):
I didn’t burn it.
Kabir
(after one bite):
You didn’t.
You bribing me through food now?
Kabir
(grinning a little):
No. But I respect the strategy.
[His mother leaves with a tray. They’re alone now. The room has soft tension — not heavy. Just two strangers trying to breathe in the same space.]
Kabir
You’re calm even in the morning.
Inaya
Would you prefer drama?
Kabir
No.
But maybe a little chaos would make me feel less… underdressed.
Inaya
(giggles):
You look like you slept through your own wedding.
Kabir
I kinda did.
Mentally, at least.
[She pours tea for both. Steam rises. Her bangles barely make a sound. He watches the way she moves — not to impress, but to stay unnoticed.]
Kabir
You don’t try too hard.
[Suddenly, his cousin walks in — loud, teasing tone. He's 24, annoying in a “you’ll miss me when I’m gone” kind of way.]
Armaan
Bhabhi already made breakfast?
Bhaiyya, shaadi ke faayde toh abhi se!
Armaan
(grinning):
Arre chill, I’m just saying — this is new. You never smiled during breakfast before.
Kabir
That’s because you’re usually here.
Armaan
Oof. Inaaya bhabhi, I’m impressed. You’ve already calmed the beast.
Inaya
(smiling politely):
I just made paratha.
He calmed himself.
Kabir
(looking at her):
She’s good with fire.
Didn’t burn anything… yet
[Armaan raises his eyebrows in mock shock. Kabir drinks his tea, still watching her. This time, the silence between them isn’t awkward. Just... forming.]
Kabir
(softly, when Armaan leaves):
That was nice
Kabir
You.
Handling him.
And me
Inaya
You’re not that hard to handle.
Kabir
(teasing):
That’s not what my ex said.
Inaya
(pause, then):
Good thing I’m not her.
[He stares for a second. Something shifts. Not love. Not magic. But interest. Curiosity. The first crack in the wall.]
Kabir
You’re simple, Inaaya.
Inaya
(without blinking):
And?
Kabir
And it’s not boring.
[She doesn’t reply. But the smile that reaches her eyes says — she heard it.]
Chapter 3: The Absence Before Arrival
[Scene: Late afternoon. Drawing room. Monsoon light filters in through cream curtains. Some cousins are gathered. Laughter. Legs hanging off sofas. Armaan is sprawled on the floor with a bowl of chips. Kabir is on the single-seater near the window — grey shirt, jeans, barefoot. Phone in hand, but screen untouched.]
Armaan
Bro, you’ve checked the same screen five times in five minutes.
Is it broken or are you?
Kabir
(not looking up):
Just bored.
Armaan
So bored that you're blinking at WhatsApp like it'll write back?
Kabir
Why are you here again?
Armaan
(grinning):
Because I love ruining your peace.
Also because Bhabhi isn't here to save you.
Kabir
(offhand):
She’s busy?
Armaan
(watching him):
Went upstairs with Ma. Something about old sarees.
[He scrolls randomly now. Opens and closes an app. Adjusts his posture. Rubs his jaw. It's subtle, but he's… waiting. Not in love. Just restless.]
Reha
(yawning):
I’m telling you, Inaaya Bhabhi is way too elegant for this family.
Armaan
Exactly! And bhaiyya suddenly has manners
Kabir
(dry):
You’re both extremely loud for people with no income
Armaan
And you're unusually grumpy for someone who just got married.
Is the honeymoon phase already over?
Kabir
It hasn’t even started
Reha
Aww. Are you two slow-burning or just awkward?
Kabir
Rhea, please go argue with a mirror.
[More laughter. Light teasing. But Kabir glances at the stairs again — just once. Just briefly. As if it wasn't on purpose.]
---
[And then… she enters.]
---
[Inaaya. Pale blue kurti. Hair loose. Holding a tray with a few coffee cups. Simple. But the energy shifts — for him, it slows. Just a second. A pause. That strange stillness you feel before rain.]
Kabir
(too fast):
Let me help
Inaya
(surprised):
It’s just a tray.
Kabir
(taking it anyway):
Doesn’t mean you carry it alone.
[He takes the tray, places it on the table. She nods in thanks. Their fingers don’t touch — but his stayed closer than necessary.]
Reha
(teasing):
Look at that. From ‘I don’t believe in arranged marriages’ to
‘Don’t let her carry things.’
Kabir
Rhea, do you want me to block you in real life?
Armaan
(whispering to Rhea):
He was moody until she walked in. I saw it.
Reha
Typical.
Men don’t fall in love — they notice the silence when she’s gone.
[Kabir sips coffee, doesn’t reply. But his foot taps gently. He’s not angry. Not denying.
And when Inaaya sits beside his mother and starts chatting about something small — turmeric, maybe —
he finds himself… listening.]
Kabir
(to himself):
Weird.
Armaan
(overhearing):
What?
Armaan
(grinning):
You sure?
Because you looked at her like she was the only sentence in a noisy room.
Armaan
Exactly. That’s the problem
[Scene fades with chatter. Afternoon gold deepening into evening grey. Kabir checks his phone again. Not for messages. Just for something to do — so he doesn’t look at her again.]
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