CHAPTER 69! VOICE NOTE #2
I pinched his arm-hard-and he just gave me a look that silently said you can do it again if it makes you less embarrassed, letting me lead the way down the steps at my own slow, careful pace.
As we rounded the turn of the landing, the chatter in the living room lulled slightly. Down near the dining table, Myra looked up as we reached the bottom steps.
Her sharp eyes moved briefly from our joined hands to my face, then down to my unusually careful steps.
She said nothing.
By the time I reached the last few steps, I was already regretting coming downstairs.
Then-
"Mumma!"
Ayaan came running toward me across the marble floor, his little arms outstretched.
My entire face softened without permission. I crouched down to catch him, and immediately regretted that too when a sharp, deep ache pulled right through my thighs.
"Ah-" I swallowed the sound fast, burying my face into his neck to hide the wince, and hugged him tight anyway.
"Did you enjoy yesterday?" I asked, my voice a little breathless as I smoothed his soft hair.
"Yes!" he beamed, bouncing on his toes. "We will go again okey!"
I let out a quiet laugh, kissing his forehead. "Haan, sweetie. We will."
For a few seconds, I was completely fine. Just Ayaan. Just his little arms wrapped around me. No awkwardness, no lingering embarrassment, no one watching me.
Then I let him go and pushed myself up, my knees feeling embarrassingly weak.
And there he was.
Aryav.
He was already standing beside me at his spot by the dining table. Without saying a word, his hand reached out and pulled the heavy carved chair beside his out.
For me.
I froze, staring at the empty seat, then at him. He just stood there, waiting with that unbothered, absolute calm of his.
No.
Absolutely not.
There was zero chance I was sitting right next to him after last night, especially not with nearly a dozen people sitting around us watching like hawks.
I didn't care if he was my husband, and I didn't care if he was playing the thoughtful gentleman.
I gathered whatever composure I had left, looked straight ahead, and walked right past his outstretched chair to take the open seat beside Tara.
Much safer over here. Tara didn't make my pulse spike, and Tara certainly wasn't the person whose shoulder I'd spent half the night digging my fingernails into.
I picked up my spoon and concentrated very seriously on my bowl of oatmeal.
Don't look at him, Aadhira. Just eat. Do not look up.
"Bhabhi?"
I flinched, my spoon rattling against the porcelain. I looked across the table to find Reyansh studying me over his coffee cup.
"Hmm?"
"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
He squinted, examining my face with annoying precision. "You look a little pale."
My hand froze.
Kya bolun main is gadhe ko?
[What do I tell this idiot?]
"Just a headache," I muttered, forcing a tight smile.
"Since when?"
I swallowed hard, the oatmeal suddenly tasting like dry chalk. "Since... last night."
Reyansh gave a slow, deliberate nod, taking a drawn-out sip. "Hmm."
That single hmm carried so much quiet skepticism that my cheeks flared up all over again. I immediately shoved another spoonful into my mouth.
Please just eat your toast and leave me alone.
"Tomorrow is Ayaan's birthday, Bhabhi!" Aarush chimed in from the other end.
I could have kissed him. A distraction. A sweet, beautiful distraction.
"Yes!" I said, probably a little too fast and a little too loud. "How are the preparations going? Do you need help with anything?"
"Almost everything is sorted," Arjun answered between bites. "The guest list is done, catering is set-"
"We're doing it right here at the mansion," Tara added. "So the venue is locked in too."
"That's wonderful," I said, feeling a real smile finally touch my lips.
"The only thing left is the shopping," Tara said, exchanging a look with Myra. "Come with us today-you, me, and Myra. We can pick out outfits and just get away for a few hours."
I didn't even have to think about it. Getting out of this house for a few hours sounded like the best idea anyone had suggested all morning.
Fresh air, normal conversations, an entire mall between me and the quiet chaos of our bedroom.
"Yes," I agreed instantly. "That sounds perfect."
"You're not going."
Aryav's voice cut through the table, low and completely unyielding.
My spoon hovered mid-air. I slowly turned my head toward him. He wasn't even looking at me; he was casually buttering a piece of toast, looking like he hadn't just shattered my entire escape plan.
Why does he have to block every single exit I try to take?
"Why?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
Finally, he turned to look at me. His dark eyes were far too steady.
"I will take you we will go together," he said softly.
Together?
I looked at him, my throat going completely dry. He was eating like he'd just announced the weather, entirely unbothered that he'd just declared in front of his whole family that he was taking his wife shopping.
A hot rush of warmth flooded up my neck and straight to my cheeks. I looked down at my plate immediately, before anyone could read my face.
Across the table, Reyansh looked down at his cup. I could see the corner of his mouth twitching.
Don't. You. Dare.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Fine. Wonderful. I was going to spend the day with my husband after spending the night trying not to look at him. Excellent plan.
Before the awkward silence could stretch any further, the heavy double doors of the dining room burst open.
"Saale!"
Shourya Bhai stormed into the room, his hair slightly messy and his eyes blazing with frustration.
"Raat ke teen baje agar koi phone karta hai toh iska matlab important kaam hoga na!" he snapped, striding toward the table. "Tune mere muh pe phone kaat diya! Aur jab maine dobara lagaya toh switch off kar liya!"
["If someone calls at three in the morning, it means it must be something important! You hung up right on my face! And when I called back, you turned your phone off!"]
My stomach dropped straight into my shoes.
The three-a.m. call.
The phone ringing in the dark. Aryav reaching over, pick it up, and then throwing the entire device against the wall... because I was spiraling in his arms.
I lowered my head so fast my neck hurt, staring fixatedly at my lap. Please. Please let nobody connect this.
Aryav calmly set his knife down, his tone completely flat. "I was busy."
Shourya dragged out a chair with a harsh scrape. "Busy at three in the morning?"
"Yes."
"Doing what?"
I stopped breathing. My fingers clamped around the edge of my napkin so hard my knuckles turned white.
Don't look at me, Aryav. Do not look at me.
He glanced toward me-just a brief, heavy second.
"Something important," Aryav said.
Shourya stared at him, exasperated. "More important than me?"
"Yes."
The answer was so immediate that my head snapped up. Reyansh let out a quiet, muffled laugh into his hand.
"Bhai," Reyansh added casually, leaning back, "Bhabhi bhi aaj kaafi chup hain." ["Brother, Sister-in-law is also unusually quiet today."]
I pressed my lips together, shutting my eyes for a brief second. Why is my silence suddenly a national headline for everyone at this table?
Shourya turned his full attention toward me. "Aadhi?"
I didn't answer.
"Tu kyun itni chup hai?" he asked, his tone softening a little. ["Why are you so quiet?"]
I lifted my eyes to look at him. And in an instant, I was busy worrying about my red face two seconds ago, and now I couldn't even remember why I cared.
Sameera. Vivaan. Him. The marriage contract.
All those months of feeling isolated and terrified-and my own brother had known about it all along. He had supported it.
He had helped set the whole thing up, and now he was sitting here asking about me, like we were just a normal siblings having a normal breakfast.
"Breakfast ke baad baat karte hain, Bhai," I said, my voice flat. ["Let's talk after breakfast, Brother."]
Shourya's expression shifted, the frustration fading into uneasy caution. "About?"
"Vivaan Bhai ko bhi bula lena," I added smoothly, taking a small sip of my water. ["Call Brother Vivaan over too."]
That was enough. He went quiet.
He picked up a piece of paratha, taking a slow bite while his eyes darted nervously between the two of us, clearly trying to calculate every single mistake he'd made in the last forty-eight hours.
After a few seconds, he caught the eye of a maid passing by.
"Kuch meetha bana hai kya?" he asked her in a desperate whisper. ["Is there anything sweet made?"]
The maid stopped, blinking. "Ji?" [ "Yes?"]
"Kuch meeta? Kuch bhi." ["Anything sweet? Anything."]
"Ji, kaafi saare desserts hain kitchen mein..." ["Yes, there are quite a few desserts in the kitchen..."]
Shourya gave a mournful nod. "Achha. Kuch bhi le aao." He chewed his paratha with a pale face, then muttered under his breath, "Aaj mujhe apni zindagi se bahut pyaar hai." ["Okay. Bring whatever you find." / "I really love my life today."]
A tiny, helpless smile almost tugged at my lips, but I caught it quickly, lifting my glass to cover my mouth.
Then, beneath the table, something brushed against my hand.
I froze.
Aryav's fingers. Just a small, steady touch against my knuckles before resting his hand beside mine on the dark wood.
I didn't look at him. I couldn't.
Because I knew exactly what would happen if I did. I'd remember last night-the warmth of his chest, the weight of his arms wrapped around me in the dark, and the soft, terrifying way he had held me when I completely lost control.
Shut up aadhira, Don't think.
My cheeks flared hot all over again. I took a very deliberate, very stubborn bite of my toast, ignoring the light brush of his thumb against my hand.
I was going to survive this breakfast. Somehow.
.
.
.
Aryav's study was quiet in the kind of way that made you immediately uncomfortable.