Silence had always been kind to Omkara. As a child it had been a relief from a hectic schedule that aimed to mould him into the true Oberoi heir. As a teenager it had always meant Mr Oberoi was not out on an egoistic rampage and his mother was not drowning her sorrows in a drunken one. As a young man it had been a haven that took him in his embrace and allowed him to surrender to his inner artist. As a successful artist it had been his preferred setting to create his master pieces. As a father it now allowed him to observe his angel in peace... but as a husband, it was the worst kind of curse. What had started off as a calm before what he knew was a terrible storm ahead, had now become a suffocating weight. Gauri had not said a word to him all day.

The morning had passed uneventfully and Aadya had kept him occupied, her cute antics taking up his full concentration. When it came time to feed her Gauri had tried to separate the two, but Omkara had politely requested that she show him what needed to be done and get back to work. Uncharacteristically, his wife had complied without argument and that is when he began to notice there was something wrong. Not only was she not arguing, she was not responding to him at all. Gauri had avoided looking him in the eyes, had ensured their fingers did not brush as she handed him Aadya's feeder and had moved away as soon as she was certain he could handle feeding the baby.

Her silence was killing him. The way she refused to grace him with even a look spoke volumes but it was all white noise, because she would not turn her beautiful eyes towards him and address him as OmkaraJi in her melodic voice. He had never cared much for his name. Omkara Singh Oberoi. A powerful name, picked for a powerful heir – exactly what he had become, but also exactly what he never aspired to be. His family had taken to shortening his name and he became Om – wise Om, the poet, the philosopher, the calm in any turbulent water. It was Rudy who had named him O – a simple letter that lacked the respect typically associated with being a sibling with a significant age advantage, but it was this name that had given him power. Omkara Singh Oberoi would never disobey his father for he was the perfect son, Om would never stand up at the wrong he was witness to because he was the peacekeeper in the household who went along with what others dictated to him, but O... O would call his father out when he was wrong, O would bear the burden of his parents' failed relationship and O would never let his Rudy suffer the brunt of any of it. So for the first 28 years of his life, it was O who fought to keep going and it was O that broke and became the unfeeling monster Gauri had first met in Bareilly. She had never called him O... perhaps she had never been introduced to that side of him... in fact she had faced the worst side of him and despite it all, it was she who inspired him to be better. Even in all his misguided hatred, the way she had called him OmkaraJi - that vulnerable right with which she took his name, as if she knew she had the right to call on him, but she also ensured he had the right to turn away from her - had always pulled at him to be more. To trust more. To feel more. To do more. He had not understood it then, but now it washed over him like harsh waves crashing against the shore throughout every moment she did not address him as 'OmkaraJi' – her OmkaraJi.

He hated how cruel silence could be. He would rather she cursed him for his sins and screamed her grievances in his face, if only his name would leave her lips again. The lips he had to admit he had thought about on many lonely nights. The lips that had always been ready to pull up into a beautiful beaming smile, whatever the poor circumstances. Those lips were now stretched in a thin line and chapped. He had noticed she had not eaten all day, not taken a sip of water. An hour ago she had moved into the kitchen and returned promptly with a plate of dal-chawal (rice and lentils), which she had placed unceremoniously before him, but she herself had not had a morsel. Omkara had missed her cooking and had dived in straight away, but now as every second ticked without her eating, he grew more restless. Just as he pulled together the nerve to ask her to stop her work and eat something, there was a knock at the door.

Omkara expected Gauri to rise to answer it, but surprisingly she kept working after glancing out the window. The knocking continued. He remained sitting thinking Gauri was likely avoiding whoever was on the other side, but jolted as the knocking increased and became a deafening banging. Aadya began to cry, both at the sudden loud noise and her father's resulting movement. Omkara felt his symbolic third eye opening – whoever was on the other side of the door had not only made the mistake of disturbing his family's sanctuary (their home), but they had also made his baby cry.

"Darwaza khol na Item, tumhe zara hum bhi mazza chakaiyen! Open the door Item, let me give you a taste of the fun!" The catcall had Omkara rising promptly to his feet. In hurried steps he tried to deposit his daughter in her crib but she began to cry loudly. Shushing her, he turned towards the door instead, ready to ask Gauri to hold onto Aadya while he dealt with the filth on the other side, but to his surprise Gauri was already at the door. Before he could stop her she had pulled it open and stood between him and a stumbling hulk of a man. The stranger was clearly drunk and took a moment to realise that the door had opened, however once he did register the sight before him, he quickly began to leer at Gauri's petite frame.

Omkara glared over the top of Aadya's head. Had he not been holding his daughter he would have lunged at the imbecile who was currently eyeing his wife. He moved forward, intending to hand over the baby and dispose of the waste promptly, but Gauri began to speak.

"Yahan se gayab hojaye, warna aapke liye bohot burah hoga. Disappear from here, or it will be very bad for you." Gauri's voice was cool and Omkara could not see her expression, but he doubted it was at all friendly.

"Eh, Item... Itna nakhra kis liye? Aaa, teri puri akkar nikalta hoon main. Hey Item... why such attitude? Come, I will remove all your arrogance." The sleazy stranger moved to touch Gauri and Omkara saw red. He was about to launch himself at the stranger, regardless of what was in his way when he was stopped by his wife's calm but strong voice.

"Haath lagane ki sochna bhi mat. Aapki biwi aapko doondh rahi hogi. Aap ghar jaaye. Don't even think of touching me. Your wife must be searching for you. Go home." Gauri had somehow caught the offending hand mid-air and found enough strength to push it away from her. Omkara was surprised at her speed, but he could not let her deal with this creep alone. His Gauri was so small... so tiny... so innocent... seeing her in the line of danger was sickening. Omkara took a step forward. Before he could reach her, however, two things happened simultaneously.

One - the old pervert made another grab at his wife, and two - Gauri grabbed a stick positioned near the doorway and smashed it against his the creep's skull. The drunkard fell to the ground unconscious and Gauri kicked his body that had landed half-way into the house back outside. While Omkara stood with his mouth agape and Aadya's cries finally quieted, Gauri slammed the door shut and walked over to the phone. She made a call to the drunkard's wife so she could collect her wayward spouse. Ramesh Chatterjee had a massive drinking problem and it was not unusual for him to behave so inappropriately with her, but Gauri had taken a liking to his wife – Vidya Chatterjee was a strict looking middle-aged female, who was the only person able to awoke fear in her husband... when he was sober. Alcohol made the old pervert brave, but despite his size, he lacked the fortitude to carry out that which he insinuated, and Gauri knew that, but the stick had been a housewarming gift from Vidya Chatterjee and she had ordered that Gauri always welcome her husband with it. Usually Gauri would have let the old man rage outside the door, but Mr Oberoi had looked distinctly troubled by the havoc and Aadya must have sensed his panic because she had never cried so violently due to a disturbance before.

Omkara could not believe the scene he had just witnessed. Gauri had just dealt with that man as if he were nothing... and so callously at that... He knew that the time they had spent apart had changed her. He'd been aware that this new version of her would be unfamiliar to him despite being the one person he should truly be familiar with. He had expected her anger... Her resentment... To a certain extent he even welcomed it, for he knew he had sinned. He had spurned this angel's hard-won yet freely-given affections at every opportunity and now he deserved the searing pain each time she gazed upon him with eyes devoid of glistening hope... with eyes that sent only bitter accusations at him. He had been prepared to fight for her... the old her. But Omkara was slowly beginning to realise that his Gauri was now a completely new version of herself - a version he did not yet comprehend...