Velamma Ep 44 1 -

Riya offered a tight, rehearsed smile. “I know this is difficult, Velamma-ji. But I will adjust. I will follow all the traditions.”

Before Velamma could speak, Riya’s face hardened. “He is a child, not a servant. You have no right to speak to him that way.”

Ramesh nodded. But as he glanced at Riya, a flicker of something unspoken passed between them—a shared grief, a mutual understanding. And Velamma, sharp as a viper, caught it.

And then Velamma’s gaze landed on Ramesh, who sat quietly, watching everything with sad, knowing eyes. Velamma Ep 44 1

Velamma’s eyes narrowed. She had seen enough daughters-in-law come and go. Subbulakshmi, her elder son’s wife, was a meek, pliable mouse. But this one? This one had a sharpness in her gaze, a calculation behind every bow and namaste . And worse—she came with baggage that the neighbors would love to gossip about.

She looked from one daughter-in-law to the other. Subbulakshmi, the jealous, insecure mouse. Riya, the proud, secretive newcomer. Between them stood the men—useless and silent.

Velamma slammed her palm on the table. The silver spoons clattered. Riya offered a tight, rehearsed smile

“Amma-ji, look who I found at the market!” Subbulakshmi chirped, oblivious to the frosty atmosphere. “Ramesh Anna is back for good. He’s going to help with the family textile business.”

“Clumsy brat!” Subbulakshmi shrieked, jumping up.

Velamma’s mood lifted slightly. Ramesh was a good boy—hardworking, quiet, and respectful. Unlike her own two sons. Jayaprakash was a spineless dreamer, and Sunil was a reckless fool. She gestured for Ramesh to sit. I will follow all the traditions

The source of her turmoil was seated at the dining table: her younger son, Sunil. He was not alone. Beside him, picking at a plate of upma with a practiced air of disinterest, sat his new wife, Riya. And clinging to Riya’s saree pallu was a small, wide-eyed boy—Riya’s son from a previous marriage, whom Sunil had conveniently forgotten to mention during the hurried courtship.

The tension broke when the front door creaked open. In walked Subbulakshmi, carrying a basket of vegetables from the market, her face flushed. Behind her, carrying the heavier bags, was a tall, well-built man in a simple cotton kurta —Ramesh, Subbulakshmi’s younger brother. He was a widower himself, recently returned from the city after his wife’s passing.