THE SEVEN DAYS
CHAPTER ONE
THE PEOPLE THEY HAD BECOME
The road to the farmhouse had become worse.
The farmhouse hadn’t.
That was the first thing Rishabh noticed.
The same red-tiled roof appeared beyond the trees. The same crooked stone path climbed toward the house. The same seasonal river ran somewhere beyond the fields, narrower now but still visible between the trees.
Twenty years ago, four cousins had spent a week here.
Now they were back.
“Twenty years,” Apeksha said, stepping out of the car.
“Don’t say it like that,” Rishabh replied.
“Why?”
“It sounds old.”
Nirjara shut the car door.
“We are old.”
Sarvesh appeared from behind the house.
“Speak for yourselves.”
Rishabh looked him up and down.
The Sarvesh of twenty years ago had had muscles, thick hair and enough confidence to believe he could outrun anything.
The Sarvesh standing before them was heavier, slightly bald and running an automobile dealership.
Rishabh grinned.
“Our hero has aged.”
Sarvesh punched his shoulder.
“Get inside.”
They carried their luggage in.
Within twenty minutes, the farmhouse had become noisy.
Apeksha was in the kitchen.
“Where are the plates?”
“Top cupboard,” Sarvesh said.
She opened it.
“Nothing.”
“Other one.”
“Nothing.”
Sarvesh opened the third cupboard.
“Here.”
Rishabh stared at him.
“You know where everything is?”
“It’s my farmhouse.”
Nirjara smiled.
“Or Vibha’s?”
Sarvesh looked at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He laughed.
“She keeps things organised.”
“Of course she does.”
Sarvesh ignored the grin.
His phone rang.
He glanced at it.
“Vibha.”
He stepped outside.
Rishabh watched him disappear.
“Twenty years ago,” he said, “that man would have jumped into the river without asking anyone.”
Apeksha laughed.
“Now he probably needs permission to swim.”
Sarvesh returned.
“What are you people saying?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
He put the phone away.
Nirjara looked at him.
“Can we use the jeep?”
Sarvesh hesitated.
Rishabh burst out laughing.
“Go on.”
Sarvesh shook his head.
“I’ll just check.”
He walked away again.
Apeksha covered her face.
—
Lunch produced another discovery.
Apeksha was carefully removing something from her plate.
“What’s wrong?”
“Too oily.”
Rishabh took it.
“Perfect.”
“I’ve been watching my diet.”
“You have two children, not a modelling contract.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
“Naitik keeps asking me to make this.”
“And Satvik?”
“He likes paneer.”
Sarvesh looked at the fried food.
“Vibha doesn’t want me eating too much of this.”
Rishabh slowly turned toward him.
“Does Vibha have cameras here?”
Sarvesh laughed.
“Very funny.”
Rishabh ate the food anyway.
—
In the afternoon, they explored the old storage room.
The discoveries came one after another.
An obsolete telephone.
A transistor.
An old television.
A broken cassette player.
Then the tapes.
“Kaante!”
“Tere Naam!”
“Kal Ho Naa Ho!”
They stared at the collection.
“We had terrible taste,” Nirjara said.
“You watched them too,” Sarvesh reminded her.
“I was young.”
“So were we.”
“I was sensible.”
The laughter filled the room.
For a while, they were children again.
—
That evening, Rishabh’s phone buzzed.
Nirjara glanced over.
“Girlfriend?”
“Friend.”
“Which one?”
“Prerna.”
Apeksha smiled.
“You still talk to her?”
“Every day.”
“Neighbour?”
“Yes.”
“That’s convenient.”
“She solves my problems.”
Nirjara laughed.
“Then definitely not your girlfriend.”
Rishabh smiled but didn’t answer.
Another message appeared.
This one from Isha.
He read it.
His smile disappeared for a second.
Then returned.
Nobody noticed.
—
After dinner came Truth and Dare.
The bottle spun.
Rishabh.
“Truth.”
Nirjara leaned forward.
“How many relationships?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“Exactly.”
Everyone laughed.
He told stories.
Funny stories.
Awkward stories.
Nothing sounded serious.
Then the bottle turned toward Sarvesh.
“Dare.”
Rishabh grinned.
“Drink.”
Sarvesh stared at him.
“I’m not supposed to.”
“That makes it better.”
He drank.
Later, the bottle returned to him.
Another dare.
Another beer.
Finally, Rishabh said, “Call Vibha and tell her.”
Sarvesh shook his head.
“No.”
Rishabh reached for the phone.
Sarvesh took it back.
“Don’t.”
The phone rang.
Sarvesh froze.
He answered.
The others heard only his side.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“No.”
Another pause.
His face softened.
“I love you.”
The others stopped laughing.
“And Tanya.”
His eyes became wet.
“I can’t live without you both.”
A long pause.
Sarvesh swallowed.
“Okay.”
He ended the call.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Then Rishabh cleared his throat.
“Anyone want dessert?”
The laughter returned.
Later, when everyone had gone to bed, four small things happened.
Rishabh saw a message from Prerna.
Reached safely?
He typed Yes.
Then deleted it.
Apeksha saw her husband’s name on her phone.
She watched it ring.
She let it stop.
Sarvesh opened a photograph of Tanya.
Fourteen years old.
Messy hair.
A mischievous smile.
He whispered,
“Exactly like me.”
Nirjara opened Harsh’s chat.
She typed:
We need to talk.
She deleted it.
The farmhouse went quiet.
Day One ended.
—
CHAPTER TWO
THE DAYS THAT DIDN’T MATTER
The second day began without an alarm.
They had forgotten how pleasant that felt.
No office.
No school.
No children.
No meetings.
No deadlines.
Just birds, trees and the smell of coffee.
They decided to find the tree house.
The path was almost completely hidden.
Sarvesh led them.
“Captain’s back,” Rishabh announced.
Sarvesh turned.
“Still mocking me?”
“Always.”
The tree house was smaller than they remembered.
Everything from childhood was.
Inside they found an old notebook.
Nirjara opened it.
Rishabh leaned over her shoulder.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
He read a line.
“Future children’s names?”
Nirjara immediately shut the notebook.
“You remember?”
“You had written three.”
“Forget it.”
Rishabh laughed.
“Okay.”
He noticed she wasn’t laughing.
So he didn’t mention it again.
—
They spent the afternoon searching the storage room.
A plastic kitchen set emerged from one of the boxes.
Apeksha picked it up.
“This was mine.”
“You used to make tea for us,” Sarvesh said.
“I still do.”
“Now it’s real tea.”
“Unfortunately.”
They made Maggi that evening.
It became a war.
Rishabh stole from Sarvesh.
Nirjara stole from Rishabh.
Apeksha tried to divide the remaining portion equally.
“You people are thirty-five.”
“Doesn’t mean we’re mature,” Rishabh said.
Sarvesh nodded.
“Speak for yourself.”
“You asked Vibha if you could take the jeep.”
“Shut up.”
They laughed until Apeksha nearly dropped the bowl.
—
As evening fell, reality began returning in tiny pieces.
Nirjara opened her laptop.
Rishabh stared at her.
“Didn’t you promise not to work?”
“I’m checking something.”
“Stocks?”
She closed it.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“Happy?”
“Very.”
A few minutes later, Harsh called.
She watched the phone ring.
Then stepped outside.
When she returned, Rishabh asked,
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t ask again.
—
Apeksha received a call from her mother-in-law.
Her entire voice changed.
“Yes, Ma.”
“No, Ma.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll do it.”
She ended the call.
Nirjara looked at her.
“You’re very obedient.”
Apeksha smiled.
“It’s easier.”
“Is it?”
Apeksha shrugged.
“I have children.”
The subject changed.
Nobody pursued it.
—
That night they sat beside the river.
They talked about school.
College.
Old relatives.
Old crushes.
The people they had been.
Sarvesh looked at the water.
“Do you remember crossing this at night?”
Apeksha laughed.
“You were terrified.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“You made us cross.”
“You followed me.”
Rishabh smiled.
“You were insane.”
Apeksha looked at them.
“You all survived.”
The four laughed.
For a moment, they were exactly who they had been.
Then their phones began lighting up.
One by one, they checked them.
The moment passed.
—
CHAPTER THREE
RISHABH
The first real crack appeared accidentally.
Rishabh was showing them a photograph when Isha called.
He answered without thinking.
She smiled from the screen.
Then casually asked whether they had decided anything about the engagement.
Silence.
Rishabh froze.
Nirjara looked at him.
“Engagement?”
Apeksha’s eyebrows rose.
Sarvesh laughed.
“You hid this?”
Rishabh rubbed his forehead.
“It’s not exactly hidden.”
“You never told us.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“Eventually.”
The teasing continued.
But Apeksha watched him.
His smile wasn’t reaching his eyes.
Later, she found him outside.
“You’re not happy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve always been terrible at lying.”
He looked at her.
“You remember everything.”
“Unfortunately.”
She sat beside him.
She knew about the college girlfriend.
The relationship had lasted years.
Then the girl had become engaged to a wealthier man.
Rishabh had never discussed it in detail.
But Apeksha remembered what he had been like afterward.
He had stopped believing in love.
Or perhaps he had stopped believing that anyone could love him without wanting something.
The relationships that followed were easy.
Temporary.
Replaceable.
Safe.
Money, he had once told her, was at least honest.
Now she asked,
“Why Isha?”
He looked away.
“She loves me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He was silent.
Then he admitted it.
Isha was successful.
Powerful.
Nine years older.
She could change his professional life.
And he had allowed her to believe that he loved her because he didn’t want to lose what the relationship offered.
“And Prerna?”
Rishabh looked at the river.
“She knows everything about me.”
Apeksha waited.
“I’ve been in love with her for four years.”
She didn’t look surprised.
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s the one person I can’t afford to lose.”
Apeksha shook her head.
“That isn’t love protecting itself.”
“What is it?”
“Fear.”
Rishabh didn’t answer.
—
CHAPTER FOUR
APEKSHA
The next day, Sarvesh noticed that Apeksha had become unusually quiet.
She was washing a cup beside the river.
“You’ve been washing that for five minutes.”
She looked down.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
She smiled.
“Go away.”
He didn’t.
“You want to talk?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
He sat beside her anyway.
After a long silence, she said,
“He’s cheating.”
Sarvesh turned.
“My husband.”
The river moved slowly.
“I found out.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
“Does he know you know?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Naitik. Satvik.”
Sarvesh said nothing.
“I thought if I ignored it, it would disappear.”
“It didn’t.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“I kept telling myself that marriage requires adjustment.”
Sarvesh looked at her.
“You’ve adjusted enough.”
Later, Nirjara found Apeksha crying.
The confession came again.
The betrayal.
The silence.
The children.
The fear of breaking the family.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Apeksha whispered.
Nirjara sat beside her.
“You remember what you were like?”
Apeksha laughed through her tears.
“Crazy.”
“Fearless.”
“Stupid.”
“Maybe.”
Nirjara looked at her.
“But never afraid to decide.”
Apeksha stared at the river.
“I have two children now.”
“You also have two children watching what you accept from life.”
Apeksha looked at her.
Neither said anything after that.
—
CHAPTER FIVE
SARVESH
Sarvesh’s secret appeared through a photograph.
Tanya.
Fourteen.
A rebellious grin.
Sarvesh was staring at the photograph when Rishabh walked in.
“She’s beautiful.”
Sarvesh smiled.
“She is trouble.”
“Like you?”
“Exactly.”
Then his smile disappeared.
“Tanya’s being sent to boarding school.”
Rishabh sat beside him.
“Why?”
“She keeps getting into trouble.”
“Do you agree?”
“No.”
“Vibha?”
“She thinks it’s necessary.”
“And you?”
“I think she needs us.”
Sarvesh looked at the photograph.
Then he finally told Rishabh about the marriage.
He had married Vibha at twenty-two.
She had been his age but far more mature.
Her confidence had attracted him.
Her decisions had impressed him.
Eventually, he had stopped questioning them.
Not because she forced him.
Because he trusted her.
Fifteen years later, he couldn’t remember when trust had become surrender.
“She isn’t my enemy,” he said.
“I know.”
“I love her.”
“I know.”
“But Tanya needs me.”
Rishabh nodded.
“She needs the old Sarvesh.”
Sarvesh laughed quietly.
“I don’t know where he went.”
“He’s still here.”
—
CHAPTER SIX
NIRJARA
By the sixth day, Nirjara had become almost impossible to reach.
She sat alone in the storage room, holding the old kitchen set.
Sarvesh found her.
“You okay?”
She shook her head.
Then she said it.
“I’m pregnant.”
He sat down.
“Harsh knows?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked at the tiny plastic cup.
“I don’t know what happens now.”
She told him about the years of rejection.
The comments about her skin.
The certainty that no Prince Charming was coming.
The decision to build a life nobody could take away.
Her career had become that life.
Even when Harsh proposed, she had wondered whether he loved her or simply saw an advantage in marrying someone senior to him.
Now he was promoted.
He didn’t need her anymore.
And pregnancy felt like the moment she would finally have to give something up.
Sarvesh listened.
Then his voice hardened.
“You still think he married your position?”
She looked at him.
“You don’t know.”
“I know Harsh.”
“He may not want this.”
“Then let him tell you.”
“What if he does?”
“Then let him tell you that too.”
Nirjara stared at her phone.
She called.
“Harsh.”
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
He listened.
Then came silence.
Then laughter.
Not mockery.
Happiness.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
He was crying.
So was she.
They talked for a long time.
When she returned, Rishabh looked at her.
“Well?”
She smiled.
“He’s been waiting for this conversation.”
—
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CHOICES
The final morning was strangely peaceful.
Nobody rushed.
Nobody joked about leaving.
They all knew the week was ending.
Nirjara was the first to act.
She had spoken to Harsh.
She would not abandon her career.
She would not abandon motherhood either.
They would figure out what came next together.
For the first time, she understood that independence didn’t mean refusing help.
—
Sarvesh waited until afternoon.
Then called Vibha.
“You know how much I respect you.”
He listened.
“But I need you to respect my decision too.”
Tanya would stay.
Vibha fought.
She reminded him of everything she had done for the family.
He acknowledged every bit of it.
But he wouldn’t change his mind.
She accused him of spoiling Tanya.
He accepted that he might have been too lenient.
But he would not send his daughter away.
“I won’t fight with you,” he said.
“But I won’t obey you either.”
Silence.
Then came the sentence he knew.
“You know you’ll be responsible for the repercussions.”
For fifteen years, Sarvesh had understood exactly what those repercussions meant.
This time he simply said,
“I “I’ll accept them.”
The silence lasted.
Then Vibha said,
“As you say.”
The words stayed with him long after the call ended.
Rishabh found him outside.
“What happened?”
Sarvesh smiled.
“Captain’s back.”
—
Rishabh called Isha.
He ended the engagement.
Not cruelly.
Not dramatically.
He told her the truth.
He had accepted for the wrong reasons.
She deserved someone who chose her.
Afterward, he sat alone for a while.
Then opened Prerna’s chat.
He typed:
We need to talk.
This time, he didn’t delete it.
—
Apeksha called her husband.
She told him she knew.
She told him she had tried to preserve the family.
Then she told him she couldn’t preserve it by destroying herself.
She wanted a separation.
She didn’t know what came next.
But she knew she would raise Naitik and Satvik with honesty.
When she returned, nobody asked what had been said.
They simply made room for her.
—
That evening, the four cousins sat beside the river.
The farmhouse stood behind them.
The forest was quiet.
Rishabh threw a stone into the water.
“Seven days.”
Nirjara smiled.
“Feels longer.”
Sarvesh looked at the river.
“Feels like twenty years.”
Apeksha looked at him.
“Maybe we needed both.”
Nobody asked what she meant.
They understood.
Twenty years ago, they had come here without fear.
They had trusted each other.
They had made ridiculous decisions and defended them with complete confidence.
Then life had taught them caution.
Money.
Marriage.
Children.
Careers.
Betrayals.
Responsibilities.
Somewhere along the way, each had become a careful version of themselves.
This week had not brought back their childhood.
It had brought back the parts of themselves they had stopped listening to.
Rishabh remembered that love wasn’t a weakness.
Apeksha remembered that motherhood wasn’t surrender.
Sarvesh remembered that respect didn’t mean obedience.
Nirjara remembered that independence didn’t mean loneliness.
The next morning they would leave.
Nothing was solved.
Everything was beginning.
The river kept moving.
So did they.
The Week at the Farmhouse
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