The Marriage That Came Later Episode 1: A Marriage Built on Duty

Anshu and Amyra’s story didn’t begin with sparks—it began with a handshake between two fathers.

Years ago, when Anshu was still in college and Amyra had just finished school, their families sealed their future with a quiet promise over tea and sweet paan. 

It was one of those "perfect matches" people in their community took pride in—good families, shared values, and a long-standing sense of mutual respect. 

Love, they believed, would come later.

But love didn’t come later.

What came was duty.

By the time they got married, Anshu’s father had passed away, leaving behind a fragile household and a grieving mother who clung tightly to tradition—and to her son. 

Amyra walked into the home not as a new bride, but as a needed caretaker. 

There was no honeymoon, no whispered dreams of the future, just plates to be served, medicines to be given, bills to be sorted.

Their wedding photos hung on the wall, smiling and polished, but the life they shared behind closed doors was nothing like the album. 

Theirs was a marriage of presence, not connection.

Anshu was gentle, well-meaning, and quiet. 

He worked long hours at a modest government job, came home late, and spent evenings attending to his mother’s needs. 

Amyra filled in every other gap—managing the kitchen, caring for his elderly mother, attending family functions as if she had always belonged, even though she rarely felt like she did.

They spoke politely, like co-workers. Shared occasional smiles, like neighbors. 

But there was no space for exploration, no time for intimacy, and no one who ever asked how they were—only how the family was doing.

Amyra sometimes sat by the window at night, watching other couples walk by—newlyweds holding hands, laughing about inside jokes, choosing curtains together, planning weekend getaways. 

She didn’t envy the luxury; she envied the space. The freedom to build something of their own. 

She and Anshu were always part of something bigger than themselves. Never just them.

Several years passed like this.

Several years of cooking, caregiving, ceremonies, and silences.

Several years where they were always "Anshu’s family" or "Amyra bhabhi"—never simply Anshu and Amyra.

They shared a roof, shared responsibilities, shared silence… but not a relationship.

And somewhere in that unspoken distance, both of them began to wonder—when do we get to start our life? Or did it already begin without us?