It was a warm, breezy Sunday morning. The glaring sun rays danced on the kitchen tiles and an A.R. Rahman instrumental played from Deepak's mobile.

Deepak was making them dosa while Priya was drying her hair in the balcony. The faint jingle of anklets mixed with the sizzling of the dosa tava. It was, by all measures, their sacred time-lazy, quiet, and beautifully uneventful.

She had shifted to Deepak's bedroom after their honeymoon. They now termed it as their honeymoon, not a friendly trip.

The advantage: Deepak had full freedom over her. He could kiss, hug, and cuddle her whenever he wanted to.

The disadvantage: His wardrobe was filled with her dresses. He had to buy another cupboard.

Since the advantage was sweeter than the disadvantage, Deepak didn't mind. He had one rule in the bedroom: No clothes at night.

And Priya shelled out her insecurities and fear. She, in fact, loved this spicy rule. She brought sexy lingerie sets to lure him at night.

They had plans for the afternoon.

A humble breakfast by Deepak while Priya could bathe and practice Kathak for her next class.

Lunch at a North Indian restaurant followed by a movie later. Or else, after lunch, they'd go for a walk near the beach. The kind of day couples look forward to after a long week.

And then the doorbell rang.

Once. Twice.

Then again, in rapid succession.

Deepak looked up, eyebrows furrowed. "You're expecting someone?"

Priya shook her head from the kitchen. "No. Maybe some courier guy?"

But the second Deepak opened the door, all sense of calm was shredded.

Standing at the entrance were Priya's parents and his parents. Four expressions. No warning. No calls.

No smiles either.

Priya's mother peeked behind Deepak to have a look at their house. "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

Priya stood frozen in the doorway of the balcony with the wet towel in her hand. "Appa? Amma?"

"Yes," her father said flatly, stepping in like he owned the apartment. "Your mother said it was time to visit."

Deepak's parents followed, offering vague nods of greeting, their expressions unreadable. The living room, once cozy and warm, suddenly felt smaller. Suffocated.

Deepak brewed coffee for them and placed it in four mugs. The four of them sat with silent stares.

Deepak's mother was displeased. "Are you making coffee? Why can't she cook food like every woman?"

Priya looked at Deepak in panic.

He stepped in, "She does the chores every day. I like to share the load at least on weekends. Please don't meddle."

Then silence followed.

Priya's mother cut in, "We came to tell an important matter. We will say it and go. Kannan maama's daughter, who got married after you, is pregnant. Already three months."

Priya's face tightened.

"Such a blessing for them," Deepak's mother chimed in. "They were married just four months ago, right? And now a baby on the way. That girl is fulfilling her duties like a proper wife."

The words stung like acid on skin.

Deepak glanced at Priya. Her shoulders were rigid. She hadn't said a word since they came in. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on her back.

"Well," Deepak's father added, "we're not asking for five grandchildren. But it's been four months already. No news? What are you both doing?"

Silence.

Priya felt something shift inside her. "Don't you have anything else to talk about apart from our bedroom?"

"Of course!" Priya's mother snapped. "What else do we talk about when both of you act like roommates instead of husband and wife?"

Deepak opened his mouth to respond, but Priya placed her hand on his knee. Let them talk, her eyes said.

Her mother wasn't done. "We raised you with values. We married you off with respect. But you're dancing now. You think marriage is just for time pass?"

The familiar twinge in her chest, that choking tension that curled up her spine and burned behind her eyes.

"We're not in a rush," Deepak said calmly, breaking the silence. "We're happy where we are."

But the words weren't enough.

"So is there a problem?" her mother asked. "Any... issue? We've heard men have problems these days. Tell us honestly, Deepak. You wouldn't trap our daughter into a childless marriage, would you?"

The room seemed to freeze. Priya's breath caught.

Her grip tightened on the towel. Deepak's hand fell away. A volcanic silence settled in the room.

Deepak's mom sneered at her parents, "What are you talking? Are you aware that he is your son-in-law? Is this how you treat him?"

"We didn't mean-" Priya's father started.

Deepak's mother cut him off, "Oh, but you did. You barged into their house and questioned his manhood, his character, his marriage... everything. Do I have to remind you that Priya is not behaving like a normal wife? She has joined Kathak classes and is coaching new students. How can she concentrate on a baby or family? Or is there any problem with her? Is she infertile?"

Deepak looked at his mother, then at Priya. The quiet peace of the morning now lay in ruins at their feet.

"Let me make this clear. I don't care if your daughter is your pride. But my son is not here to prove anything to you. He is not infertile. He is not broken. He is not your punching bag for your village gossip."

"Enough, Amma," Deepak said, holding up his hand.

But it was too late.

The living room, once lit by the warm scent of fresh coffee and soft weekend, felt like a battlefield scarred by sharp glances, insults, and egos.

Priya's mother had defamed a person whom Priya considered sacred. Her face tightened in anger and her eyes burnt. Her heart raced with every passing minute.

She growled at her mother, "How dare you come with your fake care? And don't you have any shame in creating these lies? Have you ever looked at me as innocent when I had to be supported? Did you at least lend your shoulders when I cried? You made my life hell. And now, you have no right to come and act like this."

"Mind your tone," her father barked.

"No! I won't!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "I will not mind my tone when you're standing here, in my house, questioning my husband's manhood and talking about children. I'm not a cow to give milk the moment you want!"

The room fell to a stunned silence.

Her mother gasped. "Priya-"

"Shut up. It's my time to speak now!" she yelled. "Where were you when I cried myself to sleep for years? You didn't even notice I was dying inside!"

Deepak sneered at Priya's parents. "You never raised her like your daughter. You only trained her to be a puppet."

Priya took a deep breath, trembling with anger. "You failed as my parents. And still, you have the guts to come here and ask about babies?"

Deepak's mother interrupted, "Priya, you shouldn't speak like this to elders."

"Ma, Priya wants to be independent. She wants to be a dance teacher, which is really good. I will support her no matter what," Deepak said with a firm stand.

Priya looked at her parents in disgust. "No baby deserves to grow up listening to you."

Her mother's eyes welled up. "You're insulting us after everything we've done for you?"

Priya's voice trembled as she tried hard not to cry. "You didn't do anything to me. You only gave me pain. You won't even get an opportunity to meet my child if I ever have one. From this day, you're dead to me. I don't need advice from people who don't know the meaning of care. I won't come to see your corpses. You can leave before I call the security."

Priya pointed towards the door.

Her father stood up in rage. "You call yourself a daughter?"

"No," Priya said quietly. "From today, I am an orphan."

There was a sharp intake of breath in the room. Deepak's parents couldn't understand a thing, but they were sure Priya had a strained relationship with her parents.

Priya said confidently, "I don't want anything to do with either of you. I don't want your blessings, your name, your shadow in my life."

Deepak put his hand on her back gently. "That's enough, Priya."

"No," she whispered. "I've waited too long to say this."

She held his hand tightly.

"Deepak is my parent, my husband, my friend. And he is my world. If I ever have children, they'll grow up hearing how he taught me to live."

Her father glared at her mother. "You said she would respect us. Is this what you wanted to show?"

Priya commented, "You never wanted a daughter. I was just someone who washed your vessels and said yes to everything. So go back to your 'family pride.' Because your daughter doesn't live anymore."

She turned away, chest heaving.

Her parents stood frozen for a moment. Then her father growled at her mother, "Come. Let's go."

And just like that, they left the hall. Priya felt that a storm had subsided.

Deepak's mother stood from the sofa. "Better leave her, da. She doesn't even respect her parents. How can we expect her to respect us and you? Your kids will turn out to be monsters-"

"Ma, enough!" Deepak said calmly. "She respects people who respect her. I don't think that's bad. I think you and pa should go back. Let us live the way we want."

His father was bewildered, "Within some months of marriage, she has broken our family? How ill-fated she is! Deepak, divorce her. We will find another bride."

Deepak's anger bubbled up. "Pa, just now I said that she is mirroring others. I love her. She doesn't even ask about my spending for you. In fact, she reminds me to check on you every week. She is a good daughter-in-law even though we don't live with you."

His father looked at his mother. "See, I told you. If we let him move away, he would consider spending for us a waste. This girl has made him 'contribute' to us. How much sacrifice we have done-"

"Pa, stop!" Deepak said in anger. "I know my responsibility to you both. I came here because my job and livelihood are here. You took loans and made me study Engineering. Shouldn't I repay those? How can I get an IT job in the village? That's why I came to Chennai and was able to repay the loans and take care of your financial needs."

His mother's lips tightened. "But now that you're earning well, don't you think it's time to settle? Build a family? Even though I am not comparing you with other couples, isn't it time to build a family?"

Deepak nodded slightly. "No. We will become pregnant only when we are 100% ready. Now, as you can see, Priya is doing something for her passion. I won't be a hurdle in that. And I hope you won't push us into a race."

Priya was quiet. It was better to let him talk.

"You know, when I got this job in Chennai, I told myself one thing: I'll earn well enough to take care of you both, pay those loans, send something home every month, and maybe finally give you some peace," Deepak said.

His father gave a noncommittal grunt. But it was his mother who leaned forward, her tone sharp, suspicious.

"Maybe you believe that. But what if she changes you? She already disrespected her own parents in front of us all. You think it's too hard for her to fill your head with stories and turn you against us next?"

Deepak blinked, stunned for a moment. Priya frowned at them.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, "but what you just said-your assumptions about her-are unfair."

His voice stayed low, but definite. "She didn't disrespect anyone. She spoke her truth. She has every right to stand up for herself. And if you think she's here to manipulate me, then maybe you don't know me at all."

Priya looked down, silent. Her breath was slow and tense.

His mother's voice cracked, equal parts pain and pride. "We raised you with difficulty, Deepak. Sold off land. Put off our needs. And now all we ask is to see you happy with a family. Is that wrong?"

Deepak rose slowly. "No, it's not wrong to wish that. But it is wrong to try to control how and when that happens. Respect should be both ways."

Priya looked up at him, eyes brimming but holding back.

Deepak's voice softened. "You think she'll change me? Maybe she already has. She made me value peace. She made me believe I could be more than just a provider. And yes, she makes me feel seen-something I haven't felt in years."

Silence.

His mother stood up slowly. "So this is how it is?"

Deepak nodded. "Yes. I still love you. And I'll still send money. But you both have to let me and Priya live our lives now."

His voice cracked for the first time. "You gave me this life, no debate. But I'll decide how to live it."

He looked at Priya. She didn't say anything. She just took his hand.

His mother turned towards the door. His father followed, muttering something about "youth" and "forgotten roots."

His mother didn't look back. The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound.

For a while, there was only the hum of the ceiling fan and the slow rhythm of two breathing souls who had just passed through fire.

Priya finally whispered, "I didn't want to create distance between you and them."

Deepak looked at her, tired but certain. "I know. It's not distance, Priya. That was a boundary. There's a difference."

He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes. "I love them. But I love myself too. And I love you. That matters."

Maybe this Sunday hadn't been peaceful. Maybe it had cracked a few old bones. But something in her gut told her-it had also set something right.

Priya collapsed into his arms, silent tears wetting his shirt.

He stroked her hair and whispered, "You did it. You broke the chain."

"I am sorry..." she whispered in embarrassment.

"No... I am proud of your boldness today," he smiled at her.

"Thank you for being with me..." she rested her head on Deepak's shoulder, her breathing slow but steady.

The chaos of the morning had dissolved into tranquility.

No more pretending. No more silence. Just the raw, unfiltered love between two people who chose each other.

Deepak gently ran his fingers through her hair. She had spoken for her peace.

He kissed her forehead, "Can we go out and eat?"

She smiled, "And can we continue where you left last night?"

He laughed, "Wear that jeans. We can twin today..."

And, a spoiled weekend cheered up. That's what they always do... To cheer up one another, no matter what.