The mansion was buzzing with activity — choreographers rehearsing in the garden, florists arguing over centerpiece placements, and designers darting in and out with fabrics flowing behind them like capes.

Amidst the chaos, Manisha's mother spotted Avisha quietly folding extra dupattas near the staircase.

"Avisha beta," she called, gesturing for her to come closer.

Avisha walked up with a hesitant smile. "Yes, Aunty?"

"Tum itne dino se humare saath ho, har kaam mein haath bata rahi ho... but tumhare liye toh kuch bhi nahi kiya." Her voice softened as she placed a gentle hand on Avisha's shoulder. "You're part of this house now, and it's Manisha's brother's wedding. You have to look the part."

Avisha blinked. "Nahi Aunty, main toh bas—"

"Shh," she interrupted, raising a finger dramatically. "No arguments. Kal subah tum Manisha ke saath jaa rahi ho and you're buying a lehenga for yourself. My treat. Full bridal boutique experience. Bas!"

Avisha tried to protest, "Par Aunty, mujhe uski zarurat—"

"I insist," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Tumhare liye bhi ek khubsurat lehenga hoga. Aur haan, jo mann ko bhaaye, wahi lena. No budget talks. Samjhi?"

Manisha, who had been eavesdropping from the stairs, grinned and whispered, "Lagta hai tu bhi Oberoi house ki bahu jaisi treatment pa rahi hai."

Avisha smiled weakly, touched yet slightly overwhelmed. For someone who had once counted every rupee for meals, the idea of being gifted a designer lehenga was surreal.

But somewhere deep inside, a small spark lit up — not for the lehenga, but for the feeling of being seen, included... and maybe, even loved.
In Dadi's Room

While the rest of Elysian Crest sparkled with wedding energy, one room in the mansion carried an entirely different tone — cold and sharp like whispers behind closed doors.

Inside, Dadi sat on her antique wooden chair, rosary beads in hand, while Siddhi stood by the window, peeking through the curtains as Avisha and Manisha walked out, laughing.

Siddhi scoffed. "Dekha Dadi? Uske chehre pe toh dekhne jaisa confidence aa gaya hai. Jaise woh iss ghar ki hi beti ho."

Dadi frowned slightly but said nothing.

Siddhi continued, slowly walking toward Dadi. "Shaadi ke functions mein madad karna ek alag baat hai, lekin uske liye lehenga kharidna? Woh bhi designer? Zarurat kya thi?"

Dadi looked up. "Uski maa hoti toh shayad yeh sab na karna padta..."

Siddhi immediately latched onto that. "Haan, Dadi! Woh toh anath hai, isiliye toh itna emotion aa gaya sabko. Par thoda limit toh hona chahiye na? Kal ko woh yahi reh gayi toh? Bade Papa uski side lene lage hain, aur Mummy bhi..."

Dadi's brows knitted together, her fingers paused over the beads.

Siddhi leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Kya pata kis background se aayi hai. Kya character hai, kya intentions hain — koi nahi jaanta. Aur aap hi batao Dadi... Oberoi mansion ka naam banaane mein kya kum mehnat lagi hai?"

Dadi didn't respond at once, but her silence spoke louder than words. She looked out of the window, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Avisha laughing freely in the garden.

Siddhi smirked internally. A small seed had been planted — one that would quietly grow in Dadi's mind.

From the next morning, the warmth in Elysian Crest began to feel slightly off — at least for Avisha.

It started with small comments — nothing loud or confrontational, just sharp enough to sting.

At breakfast, as Avisha helped lay the table, Dadi remarked without looking up,
"Aajkal toh kuch log bahut hi aaram se is ghar mein apna jagah bana rahe hain. Kya zamana aa gaya hai — na rishta, na parichay, phir bhi ghar ke sare function mein designer lehenga."

Avisha paused for a moment, her hands frozen over the plates. Manisha opened her mouth to respond, but Avisha gave her a soft look — silently asking her to let it go.

Later that day, as Avisha passed by the living room with some folded clothes, Dadi turned to a guest and said,
"Humare zamane mein toh anath bacchon ko samajh ke distance rakha jaata tha. Aaj toh bas kisi pe bhi vishwas kar lete hain. Modern sanskaar, I suppose."

Siddhi, sitting beside her, smirked behind her cup of green tea, pretending not to notice the reaction.

Avisha pretended not to hear, but her heart grew heavier with each passing comment. Every polite smile felt like a mask, every word like a veiled warning that she didn't belong here — not truly.

In the evenings, even the staff started behaving slightly differently, more formal, a little colder. The silent influence of Dadi in the house was unmistakable.

Manisha noticed the shift. One night, she sat beside Avisha in their room and asked, "She's getting to you, isn't she?"

Avisha gave a faint smile. "She doesn't have to say it directly. I get it... this isn't my home."

Manisha grabbed her hand firmly. "Yes, it is. And you're not going anywhere."

It was past midnight. The mansion had fallen quiet, the chaos of the day fading into the hum of the night. In Manisha's room, the soft glow of fairy lights danced on the walls as she sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully foaming shampoo into Avisha's thick hair.

"Stay still, na!" Manisha grumbled, laughing as Avisha kept twitching.

"I swear this feels like a mini head massage," Avisha murmured, eyes half-shut.

But suddenly, Manisha's tone shifted.

"I really don't like it," she said sharply, her fingers stilling in Avisha's hair. "When Dadi and Siddhi Didi taunt you. Who gave them the right? You're not living in their house. This is my dad's house — and he brought you here."

Avisha stayed quiet for a moment, then said softly, "I know... but I've already taken too many favors from you all. This house, the food, even the lehenga. I don't want to become a burden, that's why I just... stay quiet."

Manisha's hands dropped. She spun Avisha around and looked her in the eye — foam still clinging to her fingers.

"Excuse me? Burden?" she snapped. "You are not a burden, Avisha. You're my friend. My best friend. And yeah... if you ever say that again, I swear I will beat the shit out of you — foam and all!"

Avisha burst into laughter, tears prickling the corner of her eyes. "Okay, okay! Scary shampoo wali Didi."

Manisha grinned. "Damn right."

The tension melted between them like sugar in hot chai. In that moment, with a head full of foam and a heart full of emotion, Avisha finally felt something close to home.