CHAPTER 46
Stay Out of My Way
POORVI
The hall is ablaze with light. Gold drips from the chandeliers, bouncing off the marble floor and gilded arches, filling the air with an almost dizzying glow.
My heels click softly against the polished stone as Vihaan and I enter together, his hand warm at the small of my back, guiding me with that quiet authority only he seems to have.
I should be used to this by now—these gatherings of the rich, powerful, and endlessly smiling—but the truth is, I will never feel like I belong.
The way people glide across the floor in glittering sarees and tailored tuxedos, the way laughter floats like champagne bubbles, empty and rehearsed…
it all feels like another world. A world I was born into but never welcomed in.
But tonight, I am here not as Poorvi Sisodiya. Tonight, I am Vihaan’s wife.
That fact alone keeps my spine a little straighter, my chin lifted just enough.
“Stop frowning,” Vihaan murmurs beside me, his lips barely moving, his deep voice for my ears only.
“I’m not frowning.”
“You are,” he says, amusement curling in his tone. “It’s this tiny crease right here.” He lifts his hand slightly as if to smooth it, but instead lets his knuckles brush against mine, feather-light, a touch no one else would notice.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Maybe you’re imagining things, Kunwar-sa.”
He tilts his head, his dark eyes cutting toward me. “I don’t imagine when it comes to you, meri jaan. I only notice.”
Heat crawls up my neck. Trust him to flirt in the middle of a gala while people practically bow at his feet.
“You should focus on your conversations,” I whisper, trying to sound scolding.
“And miss the chance to watch you blush?” His smirk is quick, but devastating. “Never.”
Before I can reply, someone approaches him, bowing slightly, launching into a discussion about trade routes. Just like that, his attention shifts, his tone smooth and commanding. Yet, his hand never leaves the curve of my back, his thumb moving in lazy, soothing strokes that no one else sees.
It’s ridiculous, but those tiny gestures make me feel braver.
I last longer than I thought—smiling politely, sipping water, watching Vihaan move through the crowd like he was born to command it. But eventually, the air feels too thick, my head too heavy. I murmur that I’ll be back, and he only nods, eyes lingering on me as if to say, don’t be long.
The washroom is quieter, almost eerily so after the noise of the hall. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, resting my palms against the cool marble counter. For a moment, I just close my eyes and let the silence wrap around me.
The door creaks open.
I don’t look right away. I should have.
“Poorvi.”
The voice makes my stomach clench. Smooth, honeyed, but sharp at the edges. My stepmother.
I open my eyes slowly and meet her gaze in the mirror. She’s radiant, as always, draped in deep red silk, diamonds glittering at her throat, lips painted to perfection. She looks like she owns the room just by stepping into it.
Old instinct makes my shoulders tense. I turn anyway, facing her fully, though my hands curl slightly against my sides.
She steps closer, the sharp click of her heels echoing on the marble. “I was wondering when I’d get a chance to speak to you.”
I stay silent. I don’t trust my voice not to betray me.
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Before I can step back, her hand shoots out, gripping my arm. Hard. “You did not reply to my letter.”
“I didn’t see any need for that,” I reply. The pressure is sharp, her nails biting through the thin fabric of my sleeve. I flinch but stay rooted, staring at her.
“You’re clever,” she whispers, leaning close, her perfume cloying and suffocating. “Marrying Vihaan Shekawat. Do you realize what this could mean for all of us? For your family?”
Her family. Not mine.
“You need to convince him,” she presses, her grip tightening, her voice a low hiss. “If the Shekawats support us, it will be good for both houses. Think of your siblings. Think of the future. This is bigger than you.”
Her breath brushes hot against my ear. I can’t move. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might break through my ribs. The marble wall is cool against my back, but my skin burns under her hand. I feel small again—helpless, cornered, like the little girl she used to silence with just a look.
My throat closes. The old fear surges, pulling me under, whispering that I should nod, obey, do what she says so she’ll let go.
But then—Vihaan’s face flashes in my mind. His steady gaze, his voice when he calls me meri jaan. The way he makes me feel like I belong just by standing beside him.
I inhale, shaky but strong enough.
“I am not your family,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. “You made that clear since childhood.”
Her grip tightens viciously, her smile twisting. “Don’t be foolish, Poorvi. Don’t forget where you come from.”
I wrench my arm free, the motion sharp, my skin stinging where her nails left marks. My chest rises and falls quickly, but my voice is steady now.
“I haven’t forgotten. You reminded me every day by making sure I never belonged. And I don’t intend to now.”
Her eyes flash, but I don’t let her speak.
“As for the Shekawats,” I continue, my chin lifting, “you can contact Vihaan yourself. If it would really be beneficial for his family, he’ll go ahead with it. But I won’t beg him on your behalf.”
The silence between us stretches, taut and ugly. Her lips part, then close again, words faltering for once.
I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I walk towards the door, then pause and look back.
“And Rajmata? It’s embarrassing to see how desperate you are, but I need you to keep this in mind.
I’m not a pawn anymore who you will move as you deem fit.
Please stay out of my way; I don’t care for you nor your family. ”
I walk out the door, my head held high. Whoa. I finally did it.
The crowd swallows me up again—too bright, too loud. My arm throbs faintly where she gripped me, but my steps don’t falter. I force them steady, every movement deliberate.
And then I see him.
Vihaan stands a little apart from the others, his tall frame an anchor in the glittering chaos.
His eyes find me instantly. They always do.
His expression shifts in a heartbeat—from calm composure to sharp awareness.
He sees me pale, sees the tension in my shoulders, though no one else would notice.
I stop in front of him, lift my gaze to his. “Can we leave?”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t ask questions here. Not now. He simply nods once, the weight of it solid and grounding. He offers his arm, as though nothing is wrong, as though this is just another part of the evening.
I take it, my hand slipping into the crook of his elbow.
And together, we walk out.
The hall fades behind us, the noise and lights shrinking into silence. My heart still hammers, but for the first time, it’s not from fear—it’s from the startling realization that I finally said the words I’d been carrying my whole life.
And Vihaan was there, steady and silent, to walk me away from it all.