CHAPTER 66! WHO IS SAMEERA #2
She paused, her thumb hovering over the screen.
There they were. The three of them.
It wasn't a posed portrait meant for high-society magazines or press releases. It was raw and real.
In the background, the carnival lights blurred into soft golden bokeh. In the foreground stood a family-a father holding his son, a mother leaned flush against his side.
And then she swiped to the final picture.
The frame had captured the exact millisecond she and Ayaan had kissed his cheeks.
Ayaan's eyes were squeezed shut in laughter, her own lips were pressed to his skin with affectionate mischief, and Aryav-usually so unshakeable-looked utterly, blissfully undone.
A soft tightness gripped her chest. She had spent years mourning the life she thought had been stolen from her.
She had built walls to protect herself from the ghost of what they used to be. Yet here it was-not a ghost, but a living, breathing reality resting in her palm.
Without overthinking it, she tapped the share icon and sent the image to his phone.
The console illuminated as his phone chimed. Aryav flicked a brief glance at the screen, then at her.
Aadhira suddenly found the dark highway very interesting. She cleared her throat softly. "You can... if you want..."
Aryav waited, his grip on her hand subtly tightening. "If I want what?"
"You can make that your wallpaper."
The car was quiet for two beats. "You noticed my phone earlier?" he asked, his voice dropping into a lower register.
"I might have."
Aryav didn't say a word. He simply lifted his hand from hers, picked up his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to her. "Change it."
Aadhira looked at the device, then up at him. "You're letting me control your phone?"
"I'm letting you choose what I look at every day."
A faint, breathless smile touched her lips. She took the phone. With careful, movements, she cropped the photo, pausing for a moment before setting the exact same picture as both his lock screen and home screen.
She wanted no ambiguity left in his life.
The image of their tiny, chaotic, loving family lit up the dark interior of the car.
It felt like a quiet surrender.
A declaration that they were no longer looking back at what was broken, but building what was ahead.
She was about to rest the phone back on the console when the screen lit up with an incoming banner notification.
Aadhira didn't mean to read it. It was an instinctive reflex-the sudden flash of white light drawing her eyes down before she could look away.
A single contact name stared back at her: Sameera.
Beneath it, the preview text was painfully clear:
I just remembered that night, Mr. Shinghania... God, you looked so damn sexy. And now I can't sleep. Can I see you tonight? Your wife will not know.
The air rushed out of Aadhira's lungs as if she had been struck in the chest.
Her fingers went instantly ice-cold. The warmth that had filled the cabin seconds ago evaporated, replaced by a sudden, sickening drop in her stomach.
Your wife will not know.
The words burned into her retinas.
For three agonizing seconds, her mind spiraled back into the abyss-the old fears, the deep-seated insecurities, the haunting shadow of another presence, the quiet terror that she was opening her heart only to have it crushed all over again.
Her breath hitched, tears springing to her eyes so fast they blurred her vision.
No.
She gripped the edges of her seat, forcing her heart to slow down. She took a ragged, silent breath through her nose.
No. Not this time.
She had promised herself she wouldn't do this anymore. She wouldn't retreat into bitter assumptions.
She wouldn't build a fortress out of a single text. They had spent hours tonight talking, bridging the gap between them.
He had held her hand over the gear shift. He had given her his phone without hesitation. He had looked at her like she was his entire world.
She wouldn't burn it all down over an unverified message. She would wait until they reached home.
She would hand him the phone, look him dead in the eye, and ask him who Sameera was. She would give him the chance to speak.
It was a decision. But the emotional toll was immediate.
Despite her iron resolve, a single, rogue tear escaped, slipping hot and silent down her cheek.
Aadhira quietly locked the phone and set it down near the cup holder. She pulled her hand completely back to her side, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle, and turned her head toward the passenger window.
Aryav felt the sudden shift instantly.
The sudden loss of her warmth against his hand felt like a sudden tear in the air between them.
He glanced sideways. Her back was rigid, her face pressed almost against the glass, hiding from him.
"Aadhira?"
"Hm?," she whispered.
The tone was wrong. Too quick. Too thin.
Aryav's jaw tightened. "Aadhira, look at me."
She didn't move. She couldn't-because if she turned around now, he would see the wet track on her cheek, and she refused to look fragile over a message she hadn't even given him a chance to explain.
Aryav didn't press her verbally. Instead, his eyes dropped to the center console.
The screen of his phone was still faintly glowing. He reached down, picked it up, and tapped the display.
The notification sat right at the top.
Sameera: I just remembered that night, Mr. Shinghania... God, you looked so damn sexy. And now I can't sleep. Can I see you tonight? Your wife will not know.
Aryav's entire body went completely still.
The temperature in the car seemed to plummet instantly.
His dark eyes scanned the message once, twice, a cold, heavy stillness settling over his features.
In an instant, the emotional shift in the passenger seat clicked into place with brutal clarity.
He looked at Aadhira. He looked at her tight, defensive posture, her shoulders trembling slightly with the effort of holding back her tears, her complete refusal to rage or scream at him.
And a heavy, crushing ache settled directly into Aryav's chest.
She wasn't yelling at him. She wasn't throwing a scene. She was quietly sitting in the passenger seat, bearing the weight of an old nightmare, trying with everything inside her not to lose faith in him, again.
Aryav's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale.
A cold, silent anger burned in his throat-not at Aadhira, but at the sheer audacity of the message, and at himself for ever leaving a loose thread in his life that could reach into his family and make his wife feel this unsafe.
He wanted to pull the car over immediately. He wanted to cup her face, wipe that tear away, and lay out every truth until her doubts vanished.
But he checked himself.
He knew her. If he forced her to confront it right now while her emotions were raw and Ayaan was sleeping in the back, it would feel like an interrogation.
He needed to handle this with transparency.
"Aadhira."
His voice broke the silence-not harsh, not defensive, but low, steady, and carrying the absolute weight of a promise.
She didn't turn around, but her shoulders stiffened.
"We will talk the second we step inside the house," Aryav said quietly, his gaze returning to the road as his foot pressed down on the accelerator. "And you will hear everything."
Aadhira closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath into the dark glass.
Behind them, Ayaan slept soundly, dreaming of carnival games and bright lights.
And on the center console, the lock screen lit up one last time before going dark-showing the picture of a family that Aryav rai Singhania would protect at any cost.