Chapter 15 - Lines Blurring
Aarav set the empty cup down on the table, his fingers lingering over the porcelain for a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t say a word, didn’t offer thanks, but something unspoken hung between them—something that hadn’t been there before.
Ira didn’t expect gratitude from him. She hadn’t done it for that.
But the way he had taken the coffee, the way his gaze had lingered on her—it was enough.
Still, she wasn’t foolish.
She knew that whatever this moment was, it was temporary.
Aarav Malhotra was not the kind of man who let people in. And she wasn’t here to change him.
So, she simply nodded and turned to leave.
But just as she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
“Ira.”
Her breath hitched.
She turned, heart pounding just a little faster. “Yes?”
He hesitated.
For the first time, he hesitated.
Then, as if deciding against whatever had been on his mind, he shook his head. “Nothing. Just… be ready in the evening. We have an event to attend.”
Her fingers curled into her saree. An event? With him?
She wanted to ask what kind of event, why he needed her there, but she knew better than to push for details.
Instead, she simply nodded. “Okay.”
Aarav gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to the mirror.
Ira left, but her mind was anything but calm.
By the time the evening rolled around, the mansion buzzed with activity. It wasn’t just Aarav and Ira attending this event—it was a big deal for the Malhotra family.
Vihaan and Kabir were already dressed, discussing business while fixing their cufflinks. Nandini and Sunita were getting ready in their rooms.
And Ira?
She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection.
Sunita had personally handed her a saree—a rich maroon silk drape with golden embroidery. “This will suit you, beta,” she had said with a warm smile.
Ira had felt a lump in her throat at the gesture.
Now, as she adjusted the pleats, she felt… nervous.
Not because of the event. Not because of the people.
But because of him.
Because tonight, she wasn’t just Ira Sharma.
She was Mrs. Ira Aarav Malhotra.
And for the first time, it felt real.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, she opened it—only to find herself staring at Aarav.
He had changed into a black suit, the crisp white shirt underneath adding to his already commanding presence.
But it wasn’t just that.
It was the way his eyes flickered over her—how they darkened slightly, just for a second.
Something in his expression shifted, but just as quickly, it was gone.
“You’re ready?” His voice was steady, unreadable.
Ira swallowed, nodding. “Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
He didn’t offer his arm. Didn’t make a show of being a devoted husband.
But as they walked side by side, his pace naturally matched hers.
And for some reason, that single, silent gesture felt more intimate than anything else.
The ballroom was grand, filled with high-profile business tycoons and influential families.
Ira could feel the stares the moment they walked in.
Everyone knew who Aarav Malhotra was. And tonight, all eyes were on her—the woman who had, somehow, become his wife.
She kept her posture straight, shoulders squared, trying not to let the weight of their gazes affect her.
Aarav, on the other hand, was unfazed. He was used to this world, to the whispers, to the attention.
But he wasn’t oblivious to her.
As they moved through the crowd, his hand—casual, yet firm—rested against the small of her back. A silent reassurance. A quiet warning to those around them.
She wasn’t just anyone.
She was his.
And the possessiveness in that thought unsettled him.
Ira, too, felt the shift.
She had expected cold indifference from him tonight. Instead, she got… this.
The subtle way he shielded her from the more intrusive guests.
The way his hand lingered longer than necessary.
The way his gaze flickered to her whenever someone addressed them as a couple.
It was confusing.
But before she could make sense of it, someone called out to him.
“Aarav! Finally, we meet again.”
A stunning woman approached, her red gown hugging her curves perfectly. She was beautiful, confident, and the way she smiled at Aarav made one thing clear—they had history.
Ira stiffened.
And Aarav?
For the first time tonight, his expression hardened.
Ira had seen many women in the hall that evening—wealthy, elegant, sophisticated. But none had drawn her attention the way this woman did.
She was breathtaking, dressed in a deep red gown that clung to her body with perfection. The confidence in her posture, the familiarity in her eyes as she spoke to Aarav—it was undeniable.
They had history.
And Ira hated that she noticed it.
Hated that she cared.
The woman smiled, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Aarav’s arm. “It’s been a long time, Aarav. You haven’t changed.”
Aarav’s expression was unreadable, but Ira saw the way his jaw tensed. “Ananya.” His voice was clipped, distant. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Ananya. Even her name is perfect.
Ira swallowed, feeling something unfamiliar coil in her chest.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be married.” Ananya’s eyes flickered toward Ira then back to Aarav. “And to such a simple girl. That’s… interesting.”
Ira’s nails dug into her saree, but she forced a smile. “Yes, well, sometimes unexpected things happen.”
Aarav glanced at her, almost as if sensing her tone.
Ananya laughed lightly. “Of course. But still, I can’t imagine Aarav—the Aarav Malhotra—being tied down by marriage.” She tilted her head. “Unless… it’s not real?”
Ira stiffened.
Before she could speak, Aarav did. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer in a move so smooth it sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s real, Ananya.” His voice was firm, final. “And Ira is my wife.”
The emphasis wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all Ira.
Ananya blinked, momentarily taken aback, before she regained her composure. “Well, I suppose things do change.” She smiled, but there was something sharp behind it. “I’ll see you around, Aarav.”
With that, she walked away, leaving Ira and Aarav in the middle of the ballroom.
Ira felt the warmth of his hand still on her waist, but her mind was elsewhere—on the way Ananya had looked at him, on the fact that he hadn’t denied their history.
She stepped away.
Aarav frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.” She plastered on a neutral expression. “Should we go home now?”
He studied her, as if trying to read her, but eventually nodded.
The car ride back home was silent.
Ira kept her gaze fixed outside the window, arms crossed, refusing to say a word.
Aarav noticed. Of course, he noticed.
But he didn’t say anything either.
When they reached the mansion, she walked ahead, not waiting for him, and went straight to their room.
Aarav followed a moment later, watching as she pulled out pillows and placed them in the middle of the bed.
His brow arched. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t look at him. “Making a boundary.”
His lips twitched. “A boundary?”
“Yes. So that you don’t accidentally come to my side.” She fluffed the last pillow aggressively.
Aarav exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I don’t care.”
He smirked, amused. “Are you… jealous?”
Ira snapped her head toward him. “Jealous? Of her?” She scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of a stunningly gorgeous, elegant woman who clearly has history with you?”
Aarav just stared at her, crossing his arms. “So you are jealous.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Hm.”
He didn’t argue further, but the knowing look in his eyes made her blood boil.
She huffed, turned off the bedside lamp, and lay down, determined to ignore him.
Aarav, on the other hand, smirked to himself before lying down as well.
Of course, the pillow barrier didn’t last.
At some point in the middle of the night, Ira stirred, feeling something warm and solid pressed against her.
A weight on her waist. A firm chest against her back.
Her sleepy mind took a few seconds to register what was happening—
And then it hit her.
Aarav.
He was hugging her.
And not in the accidental, I-rolled-over-in-my-sleep way.
This was intentional.
His arm was draped over her waist, pulling her close. His face was buried in her neck, his breath warm against her skin.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
She should move. She should.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing herself just a moment.
Just one.
The next morning, Ira woke up to an empty bed.
Aarav was gone.
Not that it mattered.
She shook off whatever last night had been and went to the kitchen, focusing on preparing breakfast.
She greeted Sunita and Nandini with a small smile, but inside, her thoughts were elsewhere.
She would not think about him.
And she certainly would not make his coffee today.
Let her do it.
Aarav walked into the dining area, immediately noticing one thing—his cup of coffee was missing.
His eyes scanned the table until they landed on Ira, who was calmly eating breakfast.
He sat down beside her, waiting for his coffee to arrive.
It didn’t.
Minutes passed, and still, nothing.
He turned to Ira. “Where’s my coffee?”
She didn’t look at him. “Go ask your so-called friend Ananya.”
Aarav stilled.
Then, to his complete surprise—he laughed. A deep, genuine chuckle.
Ira finally looked at him, shocked. “What’s funny?”
“You.” His amusement was evident. “You’re actually upset over that?”
“I am not upset.”
He leaned closer. “No?”
“No.”
His gaze dropped to her lips before flicking back up. “Then why are you punishing me?”
Ira’s breath caught. “I… I’m not—”
Aarav smirked, leaning back. “Fine. If you won’t give me my coffee, I’ll just have to take something else instead.”
She frowned. “What—”
Before she could finish, he reached over, grabbing her toast and taking a bite.
Ira gaped at him. “Hey! That’s mine!”
He smirked. “Not anymore.”
Her jaw clenched. “You are impossible.”
“And you are adorable when you’re jealous.”
She glared at him, but the warmth spreading in her chest was undeniable.
Aarav, on the other hand, was more than satisfied.
Because for the first time, Ira wasn’t just tolerating him.
She was reacting to him.
And he liked it.
More than he should.