49. IN HIS HANDS
CONTINUE
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
A violent burst of white light exploded in their faces.
Aarvi froze mid-step.
Then the noise hit—
A wall of voices crashing into them from every direction.
“Vivan sir! This side—!”
“Sir, look here!”
“Who’s the girl behind you?!”
The paparazzi closed in within seconds, forming a tight semi-circle around them.
The hotel’s glass entrance pressed against Aarvi’s back—
nowhere to run, nowhere to slip out.
No security.
Just chaos.
Aarvi’s breath hitched sharply.
Her pulse thudded in her ears.
Before she even realized, she took one step back—
and her hand instinctively reached out for him.
Vivan reacted immediately.
His body shifted forward, shoulders squared, jaw clenched.
He stepped in front of her so fast it almost seemed reflexive, his arm subtly stretching backward to shield her.
“Aarvi, stay behind me,” he murmured, voice low, controlled.
She couldn’t even answer.
Her throat had closed up.
Her fingers trembled as she clutched the fabric of his shirt from behind, hiding herself completely.
One reporter shoved a mic dangerously close.
“Sir, who is she? A new girlfriend?”
Before the words even settled, another voice cut in—
“You’re still dating Kiara ma’am, right?”
“Are you cheating on Kiara with this girl?!”
The accusations sliced into the air like knives.
Aarvi flinched so hard the back of her forehead hit Vivan’s spine.
He turned his head slightly—just enough to see her eyes.
Terrified.
Glassy.
Overwhelmed.
“Aarvi… don’t panic,” he whispered, soft but urgent.
She nodded, but her grip only tightened—fist balled into his shirt, knuckles white, breaths short and uneven.
The crowd pushed closer.
“Sir move aside! Let us see her face!”
“Why is she hiding? Is she guilty?”
“Tell us her name, sir!”
Aarvi pressed herself deeper behind him, trying to make herself invisible, her heart thudding against her ribs.
Vivan’s patience snapped like a thin wire.
“Enough! Back off!”
His voice cracked through the noise—sharp, furious.
But the flashes didn’t stop.
Aarvi let out a frightened, shaky breath.
Her hands trembled harder.
Her knees felt like they could give away any second.
She was seconds away from breaking.
Vivan saw it.
And something in him shifted.
A line he had kept between his life and hers—the line he swore wouldn’t blur—
He stepped over it without thinking.
He took a breath, lifted his chin, and spoke loud and clear:
“She’s not cheating with me. She’s not part of any scandal. She’s… she’s my girlfriend.”
Everything stopped.
The flashes.
The murmurs.
Even Aarvi’s breathing.
She froze behind him as if her entire body forgot how to move.
Girlfriend?
Did he just say… girlfriend?
Then the reporters exploded.
“Girlfriend?! Since when?”
“What about Kiara ma’am?!”
“Did you two break up?”
“Is this official confirmation?”
Vivan’s voice turned cold, controlled, cutting through their noise with precision.
“Yes. Kiara and I broke up long ago. It’s over. Stop bringing her into this.”
Flashes went wild again.
Aarvi’s heart slammed painfully inside her chest.
She looked up at him—only his shoulder and jaw in view.
But the words echoed in her ears.
He said we’re dating…
Why?
Confusion churned with fear, with disbelief, with something she didn’t even know how to name.
Reporters rushed forward again.
“Sir! Sir—what’s her name?”
“Is this relationship serious?”
“How long have you two been together?”
Vivan ignored all of it.
He said only one thing, voice sharp enough to cut steel:
“Move. Let her breathe.”
His hand slid to Aarvi’s arm—not pushing, not dragging, but guiding—warm, firm, protective.
She followed him blindly, clinging to him as they pushed through the small gap the crowd reluctantly opened.
Aarvi kept her face hidden in her pallu, the barrage of cameras still flashing behind them, voices still shouting.
Her legs shook with every step.
Vivan kept walking.
He didn’t look back once.
He didn’t answer a single question.
But inside him?
A storm.
He never intended to reveal anything.
He never intended to pull Aarvi into his world like this.
But when he saw her break—
When he saw those terrified eyes—
Something primal in him refused to let her be torn apart in public.
He chose to protect her.
Chose her.
Even if she would question him later.
Even if she would be angry.
Even if he himself didn’t understand why it mattered so much.
Right now, all he cared about…
was getting her out of that chaos safely.
They reached towards their car as Vivan opened the car door for her, almost impatiently.
“Sit,” he said quietly.
She obeyed without a word.
Her hands were shaking.
He shut the door, jogged to the driver’s side, and slid inside.
No seatbelt lecture. No comment.
He just started the engine and drove off—fast, sharper than usual, jaw locked.
The noise of paparazzi faded behind them…
…but the silence inside the car was louder.
Aarvi sat stiffly, staring straight ahead.
Still trembling.
Still holding the corner of her pallu like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Vivan kept glancing at her.
Every few seconds.
Her face was blank.
Too blank.
It terrified him more than if she had cried.
Say something, Aarvi…
anything…
even shout at me…
but don’t—don’t stay silent like this.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
He looked again.
She wasn’t blinking much.
Just staring.
Suddenly—
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Both phones exploded with notifications.
Aarvi flinched.
Her hand moved automatically toward her phone—
“Aarvi. Don’t check it.”
His voice came out firm.
Not harsh.
Just… final.
She looked at him, startled.
He wasn’t even looking at her, but his expression was painfully serious.
“Please,” he added quietly.
“Not right now.”
Aarvi froze.
Then slowly put the phone back into her lap.
But it didn’t stop.
Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz—
Constant.
Nonstop.
Each vibration made her shoulders twitch.
Her throat tightened; her fingers curled on her knees.
Vivan exhaled, trying to keep himself steady.
He knew exactly what kind of notifications she would be getting after his stupid, impulsive declaration.
And that terrified him more than anything the paparazzi had shouted.
He knew.
He had seen it happen before to others.
But seeing Aarvi—
quiet Aarvi, soft Aarvi—
being dragged into this because of him…
His chest burned.
He gripped the steering harder.
The buzzing continued.
And continued.
Vivan’s jaw clenched in frustration and helplessness.
He could protect her from the crowd.
He could shield her with his body.
But he couldn’t shield her from the internet.
And that truth?
It ate him alive.
They finally reached home.
The moment they stepped inside, Pragya’s panicked voice filled the hallway.
“Are you both okay?” she asked, rushing toward them.
“How did the media even know you were there?”
Vivan gently placed a calming hand on her arm.
“It’s okay, Maa. Now we can’t change anything.”
Pragya exhaled shakily and stepped back, still worried.
Vivan took two steps toward the sofa—exhaustion catching up with him—
“Why did you say that?”
Aarvi’s voice cracked through the air, sharp and firm.
Stopping him instantly.
Vivan froze mid-step, turning slowly toward her.
She stood there, face pale, eyes hollow from shock, yet her voice didn’t waver.
“Why,” she repeated, “did you say I’m your girlfriend, Vivan?”
Pragya blinked, stunned at the sudden shift in tension.
Vivan stared at Aarvi—genuinely shocked and confused—opening his mouth only to close it again.
Aarvi continued, stepping closer.
“You didn’t even ask me. You just… said it. In front of the whole world.”
Vivan swallowed hard.
“Aarvi, I—”
“You could’ve said anything else,” she cut in, voice shaking now.
“You could have ignored the question. Stayed silent. Walked away. But no—you said that.”
Her voice cracked for the first time.
“You put a label on me I never agreed to.”
He looked away, guilt flickering painfully across his face.
“I said it to protect you,” he murmured.
Aarvi blinked at him, stunned.
“Protect me?” she whispered.
“The news must have spread everywhere by now. What will happen to me after the divorce?”
“Why are you thinking so much, beta?” Pragya said gently.
But Aarvi shook her head.
“No, Maa. It’s important.”
Her voice softened, but the pain underneath was raw.
“People who follow Vivan will accuse me. Question me. Hate me. Even when I had nothing to do with this—”
“Aarvi, it won’t happen,” Vivan interrupted firmly.
“You will not get unnecessary hate. I promise you that.”
She went silent at his interruption.
That firm tone.
That promise he threw like it was some kind of guarantee.
She looked at him, brows knitting.
“Promise?” she repeated softly.
“You can’t control the internet, Vivan.”
Her voice didn’t rise.
It didn’t break.
It just… thinned with exhaustion.
Vivan took a step closer, jaw tightening.
“I’ll handle it,” he insisted.
“You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Aarvi laughed once—short, humorless.
“You already handled it. By declaring something that doesn’t exist.”
Vivan’s mouth pressed into a line.
Pragya stepped in again, gently touching Aarvi’s arm.
“Beta… he didn’t mean it like—”
“I know, Maa.” Aarvi said quietly, eyes fixed on Vivan.
“I know he wasn’t trying to harm me.
But intention doesn’t erase consequences.”
That hit him.
Silence settled in the living room.
Pragya sighed, softly squeezing Aarvi’s shoulder.
“Both of you talk. I’ll bring water.”
And she walked away, giving them space.
Now it was just them.
Aarvi standing near the entryway, breathing unevenly.
Vivan standing in front of her, looking ten times more frustrated with himself than with her.
He finally spoke, voice low.
“You were scared. I saw how they were circling you. Shouting. Pushing. They wouldn’t let you breathe.”
He looked up, eyes burning with something complicated.
“If I had stayed quiet, they would’ve dragged you more. Questioned you more. Cornered you more.”
Aarvi swallowed.
“You still didn’t have the right to decide what I am to you.”
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Like that line hurt more than anything the paparazzi could throw.
“Aarvi…” he said, stepping closer.
She didn’t step back.
His voice softened.
“I panicked. I’m not pretending I handled it perfectly. I just… wanted them off you.”
Aarvi looked away—because looking at him made it harder to stay angry.
“You made me a target,” she whispered.
“And you don’t even realise how much this will follow me tomorrow… next week… when—”
She took a shaky breath.
“—when I return to my own life after divorce.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Something sharp.
But he didn’t comment on the divorce part.
Instead he said quietly, “Let me face it with you.”
She shook her head.
“No. You can’t fight millions of people for me.”
His response came instantly.
“Watch me.”
Aarvi’s eyes snapped to his.
That confidence.
That intensity.
That stupid, reckless protectiveness that made everything so… complicated.
Just then, Vivan’s phone rang.
His jaw tightened for a second. He glanced once toward Aarvi.
She didn’t say anything.
She just turned around and quietly walked upstairs.
He watched her climb the stairs—slow steps, shoulders stiff—
but he didn’t stop her.
Didn’t call out.
Didn’t ask if she was okay.
He answered the call instead.
Upstairs, Aarvi stepped into their room and closed the door behind her.
The moment she sat on the bed, her body deflated—like she was finally letting herself breathe after hours.
Then—
Her phone buzzed again.
She shut her eyes, irritated, exhausted.
She reached for it… only for her hand to pause.
Vivan’s words echoed in her mind:
She stared at the glowing screen.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then she ignored the warning and unlocked it.
The world crashed on her in a single scroll.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
Comment after comment—
cruel, vicious, tearing her apart like she wasn’t even human.
“Who is this cheap girl?”
“He belongs with Kiara ma’am!”
“She looks so middle class.”
“Clout chaser.”
“Why is she hiding like she did something wrong?”
“Kiara is ten times more beautiful than her.”
Aarvi put a hand over her mouth, try-ing to stop the sob that tore out of her throat.
But it was too late.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and endless.
She inhaled sharply to hold it in—
too sharply—
and choked on her own saliva.
Her body trembled violently.
She stood up, wiping her tears with shaky hands, and moved to the bedside table for water.
Her fingers were trembling so badly she could barely hold the glass.
It slipped.
Shatter.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Aarvi froze.
Then slowly bent down to pick up the pieces—even as her vision blurred with tears.
A sharp sting shot through her hand.
A shard had cut her skin.
Blood pooled instantly.
She hissed in pain…
but still reached for another piece.
Because she didn’t care anymore.
Because everything inside her already felt shattered.
Just then—
The door swung open.
She flinched and turned.
Vivan stood at the door.
His eyes widened—first at the broken glass, then at the blood dripping from her hand.
“The g–glass broke—” she whispered, voice cracking.
But before she could finish, he was already moving.
Slow, controlled steps.
As if afraid she would break further if he came too fast.
He reached her, gently held her shoulders, and guided her up.
No scolding.
No anger.
Just a quiet, steady touch.
He made her sit at the edge of the bed, lowering himself to her level.
Aarvi looked at him—eyes red, breaths uneven—as he reached toward the drawer and pulled out the first aid box.
He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to.
His silence was louder than anything he could’ve spoken.
He kneeled in front of her, opened the antiseptic bottle, and gently took her injured hand in his.
Aarvi didn’t speak.
She just watched him silently—almost blankly.
But the moment her eyes lingered on his face…
everything rushed back.
The blinding flashes.
The suffocating questions.
His sudden announcement.
The crowd.
The blame.
The comments.
God… the comments.
Her throat tightened.
He began wiping the blood with slow, careful strokes—gentler than she had ever seen him.
And that gentleness…
it broke her.
A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
It fell—
straight on the hand he was holding.
He paused.
His fingers froze.
His head lifted slowly.
Their eyes met—her face crumbling, his expression tightening as if something inside him cracked open.
Aarvi quickly looked down, hiding her face, but the damage was done.
He had seen everything.
Vivan swallowed, lowered his gaze again, and continued his work… but his hands were different now—
Softer.
Angrier.
Shaking slightly.
This time when he spoke, his voice was quiet, careful, almost unsure.
“Did you… check your notifications?”
She didn’t respond.
She didn’t need to.
Her tiny, broken sob answered for her.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Aarvi…” he whispered—but she broke first.
“Your fans are so cruel,” she choked out between sobs.
“So cruel, Vivan…”
He let out a breath that sounded like guilt and helplessness tangled together.
He didn’t smile—he winced. A painful twist of his lips.
Then gently, but firmly, he said:
“Look at me, Aarvi.”
She shook her head.
So he lifted his hand and cupped her face—both cheeks, warm palms against cold skin—and guided her to face him. Soft. Careful. Like she might break.
Her lashes were wet, trembling.
Her eyes swollen and shining with hurt he wished he could erase.
He wiped a tear with his thumb.
Then another.
And another—
each one burning him more than the last.
“Aarvi,” he said, voice rougher now, thick with something he wasn’t ready to admit.
“I’m here. Okay? I’m right here.”
His thumb lingered on her cheek longer than necessary.
His breath hitched.
And something in his chest shifted—sharp, unfamiliar, terrifying.
He was feeling too much.
Too strongly.
He again wiped a tear on her cheeks with his thumb, slow… almost hesitant… like he wasn't sure he had the right to touch her, but couldn’t stop himself either.
“Aarvi,” he said softly—too softly for someone like him.
“You don’t deserve this. Not even a fraction of it.”
Her lips trembled.
Another tear escaped.
He was still holding her face in his palms, but his expression changed—
something tightening in his chest…
something he didn’t recognise, didn’t want to recognise.
Seeing her cry shouldn’t affect him this much.
But it did.
More than he expected.
More than he was prepared for.
He swallowed hard.
“They’re not my fans,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
“They’re people who think they know my life. They don’t.”
“But they’re saying horrible things about me,” she whispered, her voice breaking mid-sentence.
“About my character… my looks… like I’m some— some villain who stole you from—”
Her breath hitched.
She couldn’t finish.
Vivan’s jaw clenched in anger, but not at her.
“Aarvi.”
His thumb brushed another tear from her cheek.
His touch steadier this time.
Warmer.
Almost protective.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said, each word firm, controlled, like he wanted to force the truth into her bones.
“And I hate that you believe even a little of what they said.”
She closed her eyes, but the tears kept falling.
He leaned a little closer—
not enough to frighten her,
just enough so she could feel that she wasn’t alone.
“I’m the one who dragged you into this mess,” he admitted quietly.
“I should’ve handled it better. I should’ve protected you better.”
She opened her eyes at that, surprised.
He didn’t look away.
“You’re not some ‘random girl’ they can trample on. You’re… you’re stronger than you think.”
His voice softened, almost breaking for a second.
“And seeing you cry like this—”
He paused, breathing in sharply as the words were stuck in his throat, as he realised what he is about to say .
He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of his voice, then looked back at her—
a raw honesty in his gaze.
“I don’t like it,” he finished quietly.
“I don’t like seeing you hurt. Not because of me. Not because of anyone.”
His hands were still holding her face—not tightly, but gently, like she was something fragile he never wanted to break again.
“And I promise you,” he added, his voice steady now.
“No matter what happens later… no matter what people say… I won’t let anyone humiliate you. Not in front of me. Not behind my back. Not ever.”
Aarvi stared at him, breathing uneven.
For the first time since she saw those cruel comments…
she didn’t feel alone.
Not with him kneeling in front of her, hands warm around her cold ones.
Not with his thumb gently brushing away every tear she couldn’t stop.
Not with him looking at her like she mattered—even when the whole world said she didn’t.
Aarvi’s breaths were shaky, uneven, but she wasn’t drowning anymore.
Because he was there.
And Vivan…
Vivan realised something he wasn’t prepared for.
Painfully.
Heavily.
All at once.
As he looked at her—really looked—
it hit him like a punch.
How innocent she looked.
How soft-hearted she was.
How fragile and strong at the same time.
How could someone hate her?
He stared at her trembling face, the hurt in her eyes, the innocence in her tears—
And the thought carved itself deep inside him:
She isn’t made to be hated.
She isn’t built for this cruelty.
A girl like her…
She’s made to be loved.
Cherished.
Protected.
Held gently—not thrown into the fire.
His chest ached.
With guilt.
With anger.
With something far more dangerous.
And right then—right in that moment he made the decision.
Quietly.
Internally.
Unshakeably.
No matter what happens…
No matter what people say…
No matter how complicated this marriage is…
Even if she never knows.
Even if she never understands.
Even if it destroys him.
He would shield her from the world—
from his fans, from the media, from every shadow that dared to touch her.
Because someone like her…
should never have to break alone again.