31. REALISATION
They were settled in the car, going to office. The ride was silent, neither of them spoke. The radio played faintly in the background.
Her gaze flickered to their joined hands on her lap, except they weren’t joined anymore. Vivan had let go the second they stepped out of the house, slipping back into that calm, distant version of himself. But the warmth still lingered, like his touch hadn’t really gone anywhere.
She stole a glance at him. His sleeves rolled up, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead. He didn’t seem bothered at all, but there was a faint crease near his temple, like he was tensed about something.
Vivan broke the silence first. “Don't take them seriously,” he said without looking at her. “They just blabber whatever they want without thinking about the consequences.”
Aarvi blinked, caught off guard. “Hmm.”
He nodded, still focused on the road.
The air between them softened. Almost comfortable.
Aarvi turned back toward the window, sighing heavily. The city blurred past, but her mind wasn’t on the road anymore.
She caught his reflection in the glass calm, serious, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes Aarvi realized one thing clearly.
Vivan wasn’t the heartless man she had once thought he was. And somewhere deep down, that truth scared her more than she’d admit.
The car came to a stop fifteen minutes before the Singhania Industries building. Aarvi looked up, confused for a moment, as Vivan shifted the gear into neutral and unbuckled his seat belt.
“Ah-office-” he started, but she understood before he could finish.
Yesterday’s words echoed lodly in her mind , “From this point on, we’re not husband and wife.”
The same cool tone. The same invisible line drawn between them.
Her fingers tightened around her bag for a second before she reached for the handle and opened the door. “Right,” she said quietly, stepping out onto the pavement before the air between them could grow heavier.
Vivan exhaled slowly, watching her from the driver’s seat. She stood there, adjusting her bag strap. There was a flicker in her eyes when she turned to him.
But she smiled anyway. Small. Composed. The kind of smile people wear when they’re trying to pretend something didn’t sting.
She didn’t say a word. She just nodded once, politely, and started walking toward the building.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather.
As he watched her disappear through the revolving doors, the silence inside the car grew heavier than he liked.
He leaned back in the seat, gaze lingering on the entrance for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Something in her eyes kept replaying in his head — the quiet hurt she’d hidden behind that polite smile.
He sighed and ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath,
“Everything is getting too complicated”
But deep down, he knew it did.
More than he was ready to admit.