Do you read in silence or with music? 🎵📖
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It was a random afternoon, wrapped in quiet sunlight and stillness. The library breathed softly around Tripura—rows of books standing like silent guardians, the scent of old paper and ink floating gently in the air. She sat near the window, her legs folded beneath her, a book clutched close to her chest.
She was completely lost.
Pages turned without her noticing time. Words pulled her deeper, stitching stories into her heart. For the first time in years, her mind wasn't wandering toward pain. It was travelling somewhere else—somewhere safe.
Suddenly, a thought slipped through her concentration.
I didn't even thank him.
She paused, her fingers resting between the pages.
Should I thank him because he allowed me to read these books...
or because he built this entire library for me?
Her gaze drifted around the room.
Did this library already exist? Or did he create it just for me? she wondered again.
Uncertainty tugged at her heart.
Still... kindness deserved acknowledgement. Even if her heart wasn't ready to trust fully, gratitude didn't require faith.
I should at least thank him, she decided quietly.
She meant to get up.
But the book pulled her back in.
Minutes melted into hours. Afternoon slipped into evening. The sun dipped low, leaving behind dusky shadows between the shelves. Without realizing it, Tripura kept reading—wrapped in silence, held gently by words.
Night arrived.
Devansh returned home after work. The door clicked open, and Amala greeted him with her usual warmth.
"Good evening, sir."
He loosened his tie. "Where's my wife?"
"She's in the library, sir," Amala replied before leaving for the day.
His steps quickened.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, his heart oddly restless. When he reached the library door, it was slightly open. Warm light spilled into the corridor.
He pushed it gently.
And froze.
Tripura sat near the lamp, the soft glow bathing her face. Her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, a few strands falling onto the pages she was reading. Her brows furrowed lightly in concentration, lips moving silently as if tasting each word.
She looked... unreal.
For a moment, Devansh forgot how to breathe.
Why does she look like a goddess even when she's just reading a book? he thought.
In that light, she reminded him of Goddess Saraswathi herself—calm, pure, untouched by the world's cruelty. Not broken. Not afraid. Just... serene.
He stood there quietly, not wanting to disturb her.
For the first time, he saw peace on her face.
And in that moment, Devansh knew—every effort, every silent decision, every sleepless night had been worth it.
Devansh walked slowly into the library, careful with every step, as though even the floor might betray the silence she was wrapped in. Tripura remained curled into her world of words, eyes moving across the page, fingers holding the book like it was something precious. She didn't notice him at all.
He stopped a few feet away and watched her.
The way her eyes softened while reading.
The faint crease between her brows.
The calm that settled on her face.
"Loving the book, my dear wife?" he asked gently.
"Hm," she replied absent-mindedly, not lifting her gaze.
A smile tugged at his lips.
He sat down on the chair opposite her, resting his elbows lightly on the table. For a while, he didn't speak. He simply admired her—how peaceful she looked, how different she was from the frightened woman he had first met. This version of her felt warmer, closer to life.
After a few moments, realization dawned on her.
She looked up.
He was right there.
"S–sorry," she said softly. "I didn't notice."
"No problem," he replied easily.
She hesitated, then spoke again.
"Evandi..."
"Hm?" he responded, eyes gentle.
She gathered courage, clutching the edge of the book.
"Thank you... for letting me read these books."
His expression shifted—not surprised, not proud—just sincere.
"You don't need to thank me," he said quietly.
"Providing everything my wife loves isn't kindness, Tripura. It's my responsibility as a husband. If something brings peace to your heart, then giving it to you is the least I can do."
Her breath caught.
No one had ever spoken to her like that.
Not as duty.
Not as sacrifice.
But as something natural.
She stared at him, unable to reply.
She knew nothing about this man sitting in front of her—his past, his thoughts, his wounds. Yet he kept doing things that confused her heart. He never demanded. Never commanded. Never reminded her of obligations.
Instead, he gave.
Silently. Steadily.
Who is he really? she wondered.
Is he the only man God sent to protect me...
or is he just like the others, hiding behind kindness until the truth appears?
Her heart trembled between hope and fear.
Devansh noticed the change in her expression. He didn't question it. He simply smiled faintly.
"Read," he said softly. "I'll leave you to your world."
He stood up and walked away, leaving her alone again—yet not lonely.
Tripura looked down at the book in her hands, but the words blurred.
For the first time in years, someone's care felt real.
And that frightened her more than cruelty ever had.
A memory suddenly struck her—sharp and uninvited.
She was twenty-one then.
Tripura sat on the floor of her small room, her back resting against the bed, a thick book on social affairs open in her lap. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of pages turning. She read silently, completely immersed, her eyes tired but determined.
The door creaked open.
"Akka," Akshara called softly.
Tripura looked up.
Akshara walked in holding a glass of water with both hands. "Take this," she said, placing it near her. "You've been studying for so long without even drinking water."
Tripura smiled faintly and took the glass. She drank slowly.
"Why do you study so much, Akka?" Akshara asked, sitting beside her on the bed.
Tripura closed the book for a moment and looked at her younger sister.
"Because I love studying," she said simply. "And... I want to crack a government job."
Akshara's eyes lit up.
"You definitely will, Akka," she said with complete faith.
She picked up her own books and began reading beside her, the two sisters sharing silence that felt warm, hopeful.
Outside that room, however, life followed a different rhythm.
In the living room, Madhura lay comfortably on the sofa, eyes fixed on the television. A loud soap opera played, filled with dramatic dialogues and background music. Sathyavathi walked in carrying a plate full of snacks and handed it to Madhura.
They began eating together.
"How did you write the exams?" Sathyavathi asked casually.
"Good, Amma," Madhura replied, not taking her eyes off the screen. "But I need money. There's a party with my friends."
"I'll give you tomorrow," Sathyavathi said without hesitation.
They continued watching the serial, laughing at scenes that meant nothing.
Suddenly, the door banged.
Sathyavathi turned and walked toward it. As she opened the door, the smell of alcohol hit her instantly. Raja Rao stood there, swaying, barely able to stand on his feet. His eyes were red, his shirt crumpled.
She pulled him inside with effort and made him sit on a chair.
"Did you drink again?" she asked sharply.
"Yes," he shouted. "So what?"
His voice echoed through the house.
Madhura didn't even turn around.
"Tripura!" Raja Rao shouted.
The sound tore through the house like thunder.
Tripura flinched. She immediately got up and rushed to the living room. Her heart pounded as she saw her father standing there—unstable, reeking of alcohol, his eyes burning with rage.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
Before Tripura could even open her mouth, Madhura spoke lazily from the sofa.
"She's studying, Nanna"
The words acted like fuel.
"How dare you not come and stand in front of me when I'm home?" Raja Rao roared.
"Who told you that you can study?" he shouted again.
Tripura stood frozen. Her fingers trembled. Her throat dried. No words came out.
"How many times did I tell you to stop studying?" Sathyavathi snapped. "Do you think this house runs on free money?"
"I'm not asking you for anything," Tripura said softly, her voice shaking. "I'm just studying."
"We won't allow you to study anymore," Sathyavathi declared coldly. "We don't have that much money to afford your education."
"I don't need your money!" Tripura cried, tears spilling uncontrollably.
"Please... just let me study."
Her words hadn't even settled in the air when Raja Rao lost control.
"How dare you speak against us?" he yelled.
Before anyone could stop him, he stormed into Tripura's room. She ran behind him in panic.
He grabbed her books—every notebook, every guide, every carefully marked page—and dragged them outside. One by one, he threw them onto the ground like they were garbage.
"No!" Tripura screamed.
Raja Rao picked up a petrol can and poured it over the pile.
Tripura collapsed at his feet, clutching his legs.
"Please, Nanna... don't do this. Please... these are my dreams," she sobbed.
He didn't listen.
He struck the match.
Flames rose instantly, devouring paper, ink, hope—everything she had lived for.
Tripura fell to her knees, staring at the burning books. The fire reflected in her tear-filled eyes. Her sobs tore out of her chest, raw and broken, as years of dreams turned into ash before her.
Madhura watched from the doorway, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Akshara ran toward Tripura, crying, trying to hold her—but Sathyavathi pulled her back inside harshly.
That night, something inside Tripura died.
Her dreams were reduced to smoke.
And from that day on, she was never allowed to touch a book again.
Tripura slowly closed the book and held it to her chest for a moment. Her fingers trembled slightly before she placed it back on the shelf. The memories it awakened were too heavy, too painful. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to the living room.
Devansh was already seated at the dining table, waiting for her.
The moment his eyes fell on her face, his smile faded. She looked dull—like a lamp whose flame had suddenly weakened.
She sat opposite him quietly.
"Are you alright, Eclipse?" he asked softly.
She hesitated for a second.
"Hmm," she lied.
He didn't push her. Instead, he calmly served food onto both their plates. The clinking of the spoon against the plate echoed in the silence between them. They began eating.
How does he even know that I love reading? she wondered.
No one in my life ever noticed that... then how did he?
Her thoughts tangled again, pulling her deeper.
"Don't think too much," Devansh said gently without even looking up. "Eat in peace."
Her hand paused mid-air.
How does he always know what I'm thinking? she wondered again.
They finished dinner quietly. No questions. No pressure. Just calm—something she was never used to.
The next day was a weekend.
Devansh had no office.
He informed Amala not to come, wanting the house to rest—just like its people.
Morning sunlight filtered into the living room. Tripura woke up early, as usual. She sat on the sofa, her legs folded beneath her, staring at the quiet house.
After a while, Devansh walked out of his room wearing his running clothes. His hair was slightly messy, earphones hanging around his neck.
"Good morning, Eclipse," he said cheerfully.
"Good morning," she replied.
She hesitated, then softly called, "Evandi..."
He turned toward her instantly. "Hmm?"
"Can I... join you for the morning run?" she asked, her voice unsure.
His eyes widened slightly—then softened.
"Sure," he said immediately. "Get changed."
She nodded and walked into her room.
The moment the door closed, Devansh placed his hand on his chest.
She is coming with me... for a morning run.
A blush crept onto his face. He smiled to himself—wide, foolish, uncontrollable.
Like an idiot in love.
A few minutes later, Tripura stepped out in her simple running clothes. Her hair was tied neatly, her face bare and calm. There was a softness in her eyes, a quiet strength in her stance. She looked... free.
Devansh's chest tightened, and he swallowed hard. The sight of her, so calm and natural, sent a rush of warmth through him.
They walked together toward the nearby park. The morning breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and blooming flowers. Birds chirped above, and the sun painted the world in soft golden hues. It felt gentle, almost magical.
They started running side by side. At first, there was only the sound of their footsteps and the rhythmic rustle of leaves. Silence wrapped them like a protective blanket.
Slowly, Tripura matched his pace. Devansh glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, checking if she was comfortable.
"Are you okay?" he asked, breath slightly uneven.
"Yes... I'm fine," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Her lips curved just enough to make him notice, enough to make his heart leap. He ran beside her, occasionally asking if she needed to slow down. She shook her head each time, her smile growing a little wider with every step. It was subtle, but it lit something in him—something he hadn't realized he'd been holding back.
After a while, they slowed down and sat on a nearby bench. Devansh handed her the water bottle. She took it, her fingers brushing against his briefly, and started drinking. The cool liquid slipped down her throat, refreshing her after the run.
He stood beside her, the morning sun falling across his face. The light caught the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, on his arms, tracing the contours of his strong shoulders and toned chest. Even in simple running clothes, he looked impossibly... hot. The warmth of the sun combined with the exertion of running made him look magnetic, commanding yet gentle.
Tripura's eyes widened subtly as she took in the sight, unable to look away.
Devansh noticed the way she was staring and smirked. "Wondering how hot your husband looks?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
Tripura slowly swallowed the water, the color rising on her cheeks. She looked down at the bottle, then shifted her gaze elsewhere, unable to meet his teasing look.
He chuckled quietly, watching her reaction. The smile on his lips was gentle, teasing, but there was something soft and protective in his gaze, as if silently saying, I've got you, Eclipse. Always.
The sun climbed higher, the breeze continued to play with the leaves, and for a brief moment, the world seemed lighter. Running side by side, sharing silence and a fleeting smile, Tripura felt a strange warmth in her chest—a mix of surprise, curiosity, and a slowly growing trust.
And Devansh, standing there with the sun on his face and her quiet admiration in his eyes, felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to let him in.
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