12. FEELINGS
VEERANSH:
The moment the door shut, the quiet hit me like a punch.
A heavy, suffocating quiet that pressed against my skull, the kind that wasn't silence at all, but noise held in a cage. Their footsteps had barely faded when my mother's voice echoed behind me again.
"Veer. We need to talk." Of course. I didn't turn around. Didn't breathe deeply. Didn't soften. Didn't prepare myself.
I simply said, "I have work." She stepped in front of me anyway, tiny, soft-spoken, gentle-looking, but somehow immovable.
"Work can wait," she said. "Your wife can't." I exhaled slowly through my nose.
A controlled release of irritation.
"Maa"
"No." Her voice snapped like a whip.
"If you say one more word dismissing this, I'll lose my temper." My sister predictably appeared behind her, arms crossed, ready to enjoy the show.
Perfect. Exactly what I needed today. Maa jabbed a finger at my chest something she hadn't done since I was a teenager.
"Do you understand," she said, voice trembling with fury, "that girl can barely breathe because she is terrified of you?" I clenched my jaw.
"She exaggerates."
"She can't speak, Veer." I didn't answer. She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't right either.
"You married her," Maa continued, "and instead of giving her a home, you gave her fear." My temper tightened in my throat.
"You know nothing about"
"I know enough!" Her eyes shimmered, but her voice stayed sharp.
"I saw her flinch when you walked in. I saw the way she looked at the floor instead of you. I saw her knees shaking like she expected you to hit her." My sister muttered, "He probably would have"
"Suhana." My mother's warning cut the air. She paused, then looked back up at me.
"You put her in the basement," Maa whispered. "In the dark. Alone. The whole night." My jaw flexed. "I warned her not to take advantage of"
"She was calling her mother, Veer," Maa said. "Is that a crime?" My hands curled into fists before I could stop them. "It was disobedience."
"And what are you, a dictator?" Suhana snapped. "Maa told you she fainted," she added. "She's malnourished. Sick. Voiceless. And you punished her for wanting to check on her mother?" I said nothing. Because in my head.it all made sense.
Rules existed for a reason. Boundaries existed for survival. My life functioned on control, precision, discipline. But Maa wasn't done.
"Sit," she ordered. "Maa"
"Sit. Down." I sat. Not because I wanted to.Because she was the only person in the world who still had that power. She stood over me like a judge issuing a sentence.
"I raised you with strength," she said. "But never cruelty." I looked away. "You were always strict, always focused, always difficult," she continued, softer now. "But you were never heartless. What happened to you?" My jaw tightened.
"Nothing happened," I said. "I'm the same."
"No," she whispered. "This is not you. This is someone who believes fear is obedience. And it will destroy you." I didn't respond. Mostly because she wasn't entirely wrong. Partially because she was wrong enough that I didn't need to explain myself. But she wasn't finished.
"Aarohi is fragile."
"I know," I said sharply. "Do you?" Maa whispered. "Because fragile things don't bend when pushed, Veer. They break." The words struck deeper than they should have. She continued.
"That girl is living here alone, with no voice, no freedom, no support, and no idea why you married her." My breath stilled. Suhana muttered, "Because he treats marriage like a contract." I ignored her.
"You don't love her, I saw that today," Maa said quietly. "But you do need to be human." My pulse flickered-just a little. "She needs protection, not prison. Care, not commands." Her final words landed with a weight that stayed on my chest long after she stopped talking:
"She looked at you today like you were death itself. If this is the man you've become... I don't recognize you." And just like that she walked away. Suhana's parting shot was predictable:
"Fix it, Veer. Before she collapses again. Or before Maa sees you for what you're turning into." Then she left too. Silence returned. Heavy. Suffocating.
And somewhere behind the door they had just exited Aarohi sat alone. Weak. Voiceless. Starving. Terrified of me. For a moment, just one I felt something shift inside my chest. Something I didn't want. Something I didn't ask for. Something I didn't welcome.
I crushed it immediately.Emotion had no place here. Not in my world.Not in this marriage.Not with her.But still...Maa's final words refused to leave.She looked at you like you were death itself.I exhaled sharply and stood up.
Enough.Time to remind myself why she was here in the first place.Not for love.Not for companionship.Not for family.For property.For power.For the Sarkar empire.
She wasn't my partner.She was a necessity.A pawn.A signature.Nothing more.Nothing less.And I would not lose control now.Not because of my mother.Not because of guilt.Not because of her.
I should have walked away.Focused on the numbers waiting in my office.
The contracts my team kept calling about.The empire that finally sat in my name after years of waiting, fighting, calculating.
But instead I stood there. In that hallway. Her door was just a few feet away. A thin line of silence separating us. My mother's voice kept replaying, irritatingly persistent: Fragile things don't bend when pushed, Veer. They break. I clicked my jaw to snap the thought away.
Fragile, breakable none of that mattered.She had one job.One role.One function in my world.To be Mrs. Aarohi Veeransh Sarkar on paper.
But somehow she occupied more space in this house too much space without actually doing anything.Just existing.Shaking.Silently crying.Flinching every time she sensed me near.
I ran a hand through my hair and walked to my study, shutting the door harder than necessary.My phone buzzed constantly news reports, business partners demanding updates, paparazzi links, threats to leak "exclusive wife photos."
I ignored all of it.Instead, my mind went back unwillingly to the look on her face when Maa placed that blanket around her shoulders.
Wide eyes.Hollow.Terrified.Not of the world.Of me.I hated the feeling that stirred beneath my ribs when I remembered it.Unwanted.Unfamiliar.Unacceptable.I dragged my chair back, sat down, and forced myself into work.
emails, financial projections, legal documents.
But every few minutes my eyes drifted to the digital clock on my desk.It had been almost an hour since Maa left her room.I shouldn't check on her.I didn't need to check on her.
It wasn't my responsibility.The doctor would come Monday.The staff would handle food.Her mother was under surveillance safe, monitored.She had everything she needed.
So Why the hell couldn't I concentrate?I slammed the laptop shut.The sound echoed.Fine.
Five minutes.
I would go in for five minutes, check if she ate, and leave.Not out of concern.Just logic.Efficiency.A functional system.I didn't knock.The door opened quietly to a room filled with dim light, curtains half drawn.And her.Sitting curled in the farthest corner of the bed, knees pulled to her chest, head lowered onto them.
Her shoulders shook not dramatically,not loudly,but in tiny, fragile jolts.Crying without sound.Crying without voice.Crying like she didn't want anyone to hear...
even though she had no voice left to be heard.
Something sharp twisted in my stomach annoyance, probably.Or something close enough to resemble it.I stepped inside.Her head jerked up instantly.
Fear.Raw.Immediate.Instinctive.She tried to stand but couldn't, her legs wobbled, her balance slipped.
I caught her arm before she fell.She froze.Every muscle in her body turned to stone beneath my hand.I hated that reaction.
"You didn't eat," I said flatly.She swallowed.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.Just air that trembled out of her throat.
She tried again.Nothing.Her fingers trembled.Her breath stuttered.Her eyes filled.
I tightened my grip slightly not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her I expected an answer.
"Why didn't you eat?"She shook her head slowly, lowering her gaze.My jaw clenched.
"Look at me."She didn't.I lifted her chin with two fingers gently, because her skin felt too thin, too cold, too breakable.
Her eyes rushed to mine with a fear that again I didn't appreciate.Once, just once, I wished she'd look at me without flinching.But that was impossible.I released her and stepped back.
"You need to learn to behave as a Sarkar's wife," I told her."And that means strength. Discipline. Control."She blinked, tears spilling silently.I ignored the way that made my chest tighten.
"You're not a child," I said. "Stop crying for everything."She pressed her lips together, trying desperately to stop the tears but her body betrayed her.Her shoulders shook harder.Her breath hitched.Her throat strained.And then she mouthed something.Slowly.Brokenly.
Maa...
My irritation pulsed sharply."Aarohi," I said, my tone sharpening, "enough.
I told you, your mother is safe. You'll meet her when I decide.
" Her tears fell faster."I said enough."She backed away until her spine hit the headboard.Her breathing cracked.Her fingers clutched the blanket with white-knuckled desperation.
I should have left.That was the right thing to do.The efficient thing.But instead i stepped closer.Lowered myself to her eye level.And said, quietly but firmly:
"You don't break in this house. Understood?"She nodded too instantly like a terrified child saying anything to avoid punishment.I straightened up.My chest felt tight again.Annoyingly so.
I turned away, ready to leave, ready to shove the scene out of my mind and drown myself in work.But then She whispered something.
Barely a breath.A sound so faint it could've been imagined.
...pl...ease...
I froze.Slowly, I looked back at her.Her hand was stretched toward me trembling.Weak.As if she was begging for something she no longer had the strength to voice.
Her mother.That's what she wanted.And I didn't give her an answer.
I simply walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me.Harder than I needed to.Because her knees on the bed...her silent begging...her broken whisper...
For the first time I didn't know what to do with the feeling crawling beneath my ribs.
And I hated that even more than the fear in her eyes.