Chapter 49 - A Morning Without Her
The warm laughter of her family filled the house, a sound Ira hadn’t realized she had missed so much.
She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, flipping through old family albums with her mother and younger brother, Ansh.
"Di, just look at this! You were such a drama queen even as a kid!" Ansh teased, pointing at a picture where she had angrily pouted, refusing to let go of her favorite toy.
Ira gasped dramatically. "Excuse me?! I was adorable! And I still am."
Her mother, Shreya, chuckled, shaking her head. "You two haven’t changed one bit. Still arguing over the smallest things."
Ira stuck her tongue out at Ansh, making him laugh.
The morning felt light, warm, safe.
For the first time in a while, she wasn’t surrounded by the suffocating weight of her responsibilities.
No contract. No business meetings. No intense gazes from a certain brooding husband.
Just her family.
Her father, Harsh, sat on the couch with a fond smile as he watched them bicker. "Ira, beta, I haven’t seen you this relaxed in so long. How’s married life treating you?"
At that, her teasing stopped. Her smile softened as Aarav’s face flashed in her mind.
The way he hugged her at night. The way he held her hand under the table when no one was watching. The way he had sulked like a baby when she was packing her bags.
She bit her lip. How was she supposed to explain what Aarav Malhotra had become to her?
"Good," she said finally. "It’s… different. But good."
Her mother raised an eyebrow knowingly but didn’t push. "You’re glowing, my love."
Ira rolled her eyes. "Maa, please!"
"She’s right," her father said, sipping his tea. "Aarav seems like a good man."
Her heart thudded. Was he?
To the world, he was ruthless, unreadable, distant.
But to her?
He was warmth wrapped in silence. A man who showed his love not in words, but in actions.
And she was hopelessly, foolishly, undeniably drawn to him.
The office was unbearable.
The chair was uncomfortable. His coffee tasted awful. The files in front of him blurred into a meaningless mess.
Because she wasn’t here.
His little wife. His baby.
His.
Aarav scowled, rubbing his forehead. What the hell was wrong with him?
She was just away for a few days.
But why did it feel like his entire world had lost color?
"Sir, you need to sign these—"
"Later," he cut off his assistant, his voice sharper than intended.
Damn it.
His entire body was restless. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, reaching for her warmth, her scent.
But all he had found was cold sheets.
He hated it.
He needed her.
Aarav clenched his fists, annoyed at himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This contract marriage wasn’t supposed to make him feel like a lovesick fool.
And yet, here he was, glaring at his phone, waiting for her to text first.
Ira stretched on the couch, scrolling through her phone while her family bustled around. Her home.
Her brother Ansh was arguing with their mother about breakfast. Her father was reading the newspaper, humming softly. It was the perfect, chaotic normalcy she had grown up with.
So why did something feel... off?
She knew the answer. She just didn’t want to say it out loud.
Aarav.
Her stupid, brooding, sulking husband.
She had woken up expecting his warmth beside her. Expecting the familiar weight of his arm around her waist. Expecting to hear his annoyed mumble when she moved too much.
But instead, there was just emptiness.
She had rolled onto her stomach, hugging her pillow tight, trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest.
It didn’t work.
And now, as she scrolled through her phone, she waited.
Waited for a text from him. A call. A single damn message.
But nothing.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she text first? Should she call?
Before she could decide, Ansh flopped beside her. "Di, why are you looking so grumpy? Missing jeeju already?"
Her head snapped up. "W-What? No!"
Her brother smirked. "Liar."
Ira scoffed. "I have a life outside of Aarav, you know."
Ansh snorted. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
She threw a cushion at him.
But the truth was… he wasn’t wrong.
Aarav Malhotra was a man of control.
His life was built on strict routines, sharp decisions, and unshakable discipline.
And yet, here he was—slumped in his office chair, staring at his phone like a lovesick teenager.
Nothing.
Not a single text from her.
His jaw clenched. Fine. If she wanted to play this game, he wouldn’t text first either.
"Sir, your meeting is about to—"
"Cancel it."
His assistant looked horrified. "But—"
"Out."
The door shut hurriedly.
Aarav exhaled sharply, gripping his phone. How could she be enjoying her time away while he was suffering like this?
Did she not miss him at all?
His hand twitched. His heart argued with his brain. Call her. Just once. Just to check.
But his pride refused.
Instead, he unlocked his phone and opened their chat.
The last message was from last night. A simple, "Take care."
She hadn’t even added an emoji. Heartless woman.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He could type something casual.
"Did you reach safely?" No, that sounded too late.
"Are you busy?" No, that sounded too needy.
"I need you." Definitely not.
With a frustrated groan, he locked his phone again.
He was Aarav Malhotra. CEO. Ruthless businessman. Feared by all.
And yet, his tiny wife had completely ruined him.
After lunch, Ira snuck into her room, closing the door behind her.
Her fingers tapped against her phone, her heart annoyingly loud.
Finally, she gave in and texted.
Ira: What are you doing?
She stared at the message. Was that too casual? Too obvious?
Before she could overthink, her phone buzzed.
Aarav: Working. Why?
Ira rolled her eyes. Liar. He was probably sulking.
Ira: Just like that. You didn’t text me, so I thought maybe you forgot about me.
There was a long pause.
Then—
Aarav: That’s impossible.
Her breath hitched. Damn him.
She bit her lip, typing.
Ira: Oh? Missing me, Mr. Malhotra?
Another long pause.
And then—
Aarav: I couldn’t sleep last night.
Her heart stopped.
She stared at the words, warmth spreading in her chest.
She had expected denial, sarcasm, maybe even silence.
But this? This was… honest. Vulnerable.
Her fingers trembled as she replied.
Ira: Me neither.
Aarav’s response came instantly.
Aarav: I hate this.
Her throat tightened.
So did she.
She swallowed hard, trying to lighten the mood.
Ira: Aww, my husband is getting too attached to me.
This time, his reply took longer.
Aarav: I was attached from the beginning. I just didn’t realize it.
Ira’s breath caught.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
What was she supposed to say to that?
Her heart pounded as she typed—
Ira: Aarav…
Before she could hit send, her phone rang.
His name flashed on the screen.
She sucked in a breath, gripping the phone tightly before answering.
"Hi."
Silence.
Then—
A rough, low voice that made her stomach flip.
"Ira… come back."
Her breath hitched. His voice.
Low, rough, edged with something he usually kept hidden—desperation.
She swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. "Aarav… it’s just for a few days."
Silence.
Then—a slow, deep inhale.
"I don’t care," he muttered, voice softer but no less intense. "I don’t like sleeping without you."
Ira’s heart stopped.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Aarav Malhotra never said things like this. Never.
The teasing response died on her tongue. She couldn’t tease him when her own chest was aching just as much.
"I…" She licked her lips, voice barely above a whisper. "Me neither."
A heavy pause.
Then his voice came again, quieter this time. "Then why are we doing this?"
She bit her lip, fingers clenching around her blanket. "Because… we have to. It’s just a few days, Aarav."
"I don’t care."
She closed her eyes. Of course, he didn’t.
She could picture him so clearly—sitting in his dark bedroom, hair messy, frown deep, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him.
Her stupid, brooding husband.
Her lips curled into a soft smile. "You’re sulking, aren’t you?"
His sharp exhale made her giggle. "I hate you."
She rolled onto her side, tucking the phone closer to her ear. "No, you don’t."
Another pause.
Then—a hushed confession.
"I don’t."
Something warm curled in her stomach.
Silence stretched between them, not awkward, not uncomfortable—just thick with something neither of them wanted to name.
Finally, she sighed. "Aarav?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me something."
"What?"
She hesitated, staring at the ceiling. "What am I to you?"
Aarav went completely still.
Even through the phone, she could feel it—his hesitation, his internal battle.
Then, his voice came, slow and deliberate.
"You’re mine."
Her breath caught.
Not an answer. A claim.
Her fingers curled into the sheets. "Aarav—"
"You’re mine, Ira," he repeated, voice rougher now. "From the moment you signed that contract, you were mine. I don’t care what happens after six months. I don’t care what we agreed on. I just know I won’t let you go."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
What?
She sat up, pulse racing. "Aarav, what are you saying?"
He didn’t reply immediately. Then—a confession she never expected.
"I don’t want to live without you."
Ira sucked in a sharp breath.
The room around her blurred, her thoughts spinning.
Because this wasn’t part of the deal.
He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way.
And yet—here they were.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Aarav… are you saying you—"
"I don’t know." He exhaled shakily. "All I know is that this—this space between us? I hate it. I want you back. I need you back."
Ira clenched her jaw, emotions surging. "Aarav, don’t say things you don’t mean."
"I don’t." His voice was firm now. "I always mean what I say."
Her hands trembled.
Her heart screamed at her to believe him. To trust that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just a contract anymore.
But her brain?
Her brain reminded her of reality. The contract. The deadline. The inevitable end.
Her throat tightened. "Aarav… what happens when this contract ends?"
Silence.
A long, suffocating silence.
Then—the softest confession.
"I don’t think I can let you go."
Her breath left her in a shaky exhale.
And just like that—the walls she had so carefully built around her heart cracked.
Aarav sat in the dim glow of his bedroom lamp, gripping the phone like a lifeline.
His chest felt too tight, his mind too loud.
Because tonight, for the first time—he admitted the truth.
He. Couldn’t. Let. Her. Go.
Not now. Not ever.
She was his. His little wife. His biggest weakness.
And the scariest part?
He didn’t care anymore.
"Aarav…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Do you really mean it?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No denial. Just truth.
Ira sucked in a sharp breath.
His grip on the phone tightened. "Come back, Ira."
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she whispered, "Good night, Aarav."
His heart sank.
And then—the call ended.
Aarav closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.
But that was okay.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t scared to admit it anymore.
He was keeping her.
No matter what.