The Secret Bride (The Bride #3)

Chapter 7

Viya

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Armaan disappear into the bathroom. The door closed softly behind him, and I was left alone in the vast bedroom that was now supposed to be mine as well as his.

Our bedroom.

The thought felt strange. Foreign. Like trying on clothes that did not quite fit.

I was about to lie down, exhaustion finally catching up with me, when I heard the bathroom door open again. I looked up, expecting to see him heading for the shower, but instead he emerged carrying a small white box with a red cross on it.

A first aid kit.

He walked back to the bed and sat down in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something else. Something clean and masculine that made my breath catch slightly.

He did not say anything. He just reached for my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"I need to remove the glass first," he said quietly, his eyes focused entirely on my wrist. "It will hurt."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He picked up a pair of tweezers from the kit and brought them close to the cut. I felt the sharp sting immediately as the metal tip touched the embedded shard. I could not help it. I flinched, pulling back slightly.

His eyes flicked up to mine. There was something in his gaze that I could not quite read. Concern, maybe. Or frustration that I had moved.

Then he did something completely unexpected.

He leaned forward and blew a soft stream of air across my wrist, right over the injury. The cooling sensation immediately eased the sting, and I found myself staring at him in surprise.

He did not meet my eyes. He just focused back on the task, carefully extracting the tiny piece of glass with steady hands. Once it was out, he set it aside on a tissue and reached for the antiseptic.

The liquid burned when it touched the open wound, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning the cut thoroughly before applying a generous amount of antibiotic ointment. Then he wrapped my wrist with fresh gauze and secured it with medical tape.

His hands were large and capable, but the way he touched me was incredibly gentle. Like I was something fragile that might break if he was not careful.

This was the first time in my life that someone had cared for me like this. Uncle had always been kind, but he had never been the type to tend to injuries or illnesses. That had never been his role. And Aunty certainly had never bothered with such things.

But here was this man, this stranger I had married less than twenty four hours ago, treating a minor cut on my wrist as though it actually mattered.

I did not know what to feel about that.

When Dadi had left me alone in this room earlier tonight, I had been terrified. My heart had been pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. I had no idea what to expect from this night. No idea what he would expect from me.

The fear had been suffocating. That was why I had rushed to change out of the heavy wedding clothes the moment I was alone.

I had pulled off the elaborate jewelry, piece by piece, my hands shaking the entire time.

That was when the bangle had broken, cutting into my skin.

But even after I had changed into my comfortable pajamas, I still could not breathe properly.

So I had gone to the balcony. The open air had helped. The vast sky and the cool breeze had made the tightness in my chest ease just enough that I could finally take a full breath.

I did not even remember falling asleep out there.

Armaan finished wrapping my wrist and looked up at me.

"You should sleep," he said, his voice low and rough. "It has been a long day."

I nodded, unable to form words. What was I supposed to say? Thank you for marrying me even though you did not want to? Thank you for not forcing yourself on me tonight? Thank you for caring about my injury?

Everything felt too complicated, too heavy.

He stood up and moved away from the bed. I quickly lay down, positioning myself at the very far edge of the mattress, as close to the side as I could get without actually falling off. I pulled the covers up to my chin and kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I heard him walk back to the bathroom. The door closed, and a moment later I heard the sound of running water.

He was taking a shower.

I lay there in the dim light, listening to the muffled sounds of water and trying to calm my racing heart. The room felt too big and too small at the same time. The bed felt too soft, too luxurious. Everything about this place reminded me that I did not belong here.

After what felt like an eternity, the water stopped. There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the sound of my own breathing.

Then the bathroom door opened.

I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. I did not want to face him right now. I did not want to have any more awkward conversations or loaded silences.

But I could hear him moving around the room. I could hear the soft sound of a towel against skin. The quiet rustle of fabric.

Curiosity got the better of me. I opened my eyes just a fraction, peeking through my lashes.

And immediately regretted it.

He was standing near the bathroom door, completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose cotton pants that hung low on his hips.

Water droplets ran down his chest and stomach, following the defined lines of his muscles.

His skin gleamed in the soft lamplight, and his dark hair was damp and slightly messy.

He was beautiful. Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful.

I felt something flutter in my stomach. Something warm and unfamiliar that made my cheeks heat up.

I squeezed my eyes shut immediately, my heart hammering against my ribs. He should not know I was awake. He should not catch me staring at him like some kind of fool.

I could hear him moving closer to the bed. I forced myself to keep my breathing slow and even, mimicking sleep.

There was a pause. A long moment where nothing happened. Then I heard the distinct sound of fabric being pulled on. A shirt, maybe. Or a t-shirt.

Relief flooded through me, though I was not entirely sure why. Part of me had been terrified he would climb into bed shirtless. Part of me had been disappointed by the same thought.

I did not understand myself at all.

The mattress dipped as he got into bed on his side. I felt the movement even from where I lay at the far edge. He shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and then I heard the soft click of the bedside lamp being turned off.

Darkness enveloped the room.

We lay there in silence, separated by what felt like miles of space even though we were on the same mattress. I could hear him breathing. Slow and steady and calm.

I did not know whether to feel relieved or afraid that he was giving me time in our marriage. Relieved that he was not demanding anything from me tonight. Afraid of what it meant that he could lie this close to me and not want anything at all.

Did that mean he found me unattractive?

The thought sent an unexpected stab of pain through my chest, which made no sense. I should be grateful. I should be relieved.

But instead, I just felt confused.

Eventually, exhaustion won out over my racing thoughts. My eyes grew heavy, and sleep pulled me under like a tide.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, warm and bright against my closed eyelids. I blinked awake slowly, disoriented for a few seconds. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. The bed beneath me was too soft. The room smelled like expensive cologne and fresh linens.

Then everything came rushing back.

The wedding. The bedroom. Armaan.

I turned my head quickly to check the right side of the bed.

Empty.

The sheets were rumpled where he had slept, but he was already gone. I reached out and touched the space where he had been. It was cool. He must have been awake for a while now.

I sat up slowly, running my hand through my tangled hair. What time was it? I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty in the morning.

A knock on the door made me jump.

I scrambled out of bed and walked over to open it, smoothing down my wrinkled pajamas as I went.

A middle aged woman stood in the hallway, her kind face breaking into a warm smile when she saw me.

"Good morning, beta. I am Mamta, the housekeeper. Dadi is waiting for you downstairs for breakfast."

I nodded quickly, suddenly very aware of how messy I must look.

"Thank you, Mamta ji. I will be down in fifteen minutes."

She nodded and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then I rushed to the bathroom.

I took the fastest shower of my life, scrubbing away yesterday's makeup and the lingering scent of jasmine from the wedding flowers. I dried off quickly and realized with a sinking feeling that I had no clothes here. All my belongings were still at Uncle's house.

Then I noticed a small suitcase sitting in the corner of the bathroom that I had not seen last night. I opened it and found some of my clothes inside. Uncle must have sent them over this morning.

I pulled on a simple salwar kameez, something comfortable and modest. I brushed my hair and tied it back into a neat braid. I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

The face staring back at me looked the same as always. Same eyes. Same nose. Same mouth.

But everything had changed.

I was married now. I was someone's wife.

I was Armaan Khanna's wife.

The thought still did not feel real.

I made my way downstairs, following the sounds of quiet conversation until I found the dining room. It was a large, elegant space with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a beautiful garden. The morning light filled the room with a golden glow.

Dadi was sitting at the head of the long dining table, a cup of tea in her hands. She looked up when I entered and smiled warmly.

"Good morning, beta. Come, sit down. Did you sleep well?"

I walked over and wished her good morning, then took a seat beside her.

"Yes, Dadi. Thank you."

Mamta appeared almost immediately with a tray of breakfast items. Parathas, fresh fruit, yogurt, and chai. She set everything down with practiced efficiency and gave me an encouraging smile before disappearing back into the kitchen.

I looked around the table, noticing the empty chair across from us.

Dadi noticed my glance.

"Armaan has already left for the office. He had an important meeting this morning."

Of course he did. He probably could not wait to escape.

An opportunity presented itself, and I took it before I could lose my nerve.

"Dadi, can I also go to the office today? I have not applied for any leave, and I do not want them to think I am irresponsible on my second week of work."

Dadi looked surprised for a moment, then her expression shifted to something that looked like approval.

"Of course you can go, beta. Where do you work?"

"New Gen Corp."

Her eyebrows rose, and then she smiled, looking genuinely pleased.

"That is wonderful. Armaan will be happy to know his wife works at his company. It is good that you have your own career."

I was not so sure Armaan would be happy about it, but I did not say that out loud.

I finished breakfast as quickly as I could without being rude, then excused myself to get ready for work. I changed into office appropriate clothes, applied minimal makeup, and checked my reflection one last time.

No vermillion was visible in my hair parting. No sindoor that might give away my new marital status. Uncle had asked me to keep the wedding secret, and I intended to honor that request.

I took an auto to the office, watching the familiar streets of Rajmer pass by through the window. For a little while, I could pretend that yesterday had not happened. That I was just Viya Mehra, junior developer, heading to work like any other normal day.

When I walked into the office building, Akshita spotted me immediately and came running over, her face lit up with excitement.

"Viya! Oh my god, you look different today!"

My hand flew to my hair instinctively, panic flaring in my chest. Could she see the vermillion? Had I missed a spot?

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Akshita laughed.

"Why are you touching your hair? I meant your face is glowing. You look really happy today. Did you get good sleep this weekend or something?"

Relief washed over me so strongly I almost laughed.

"Yes," I said, forcing a smile. "Really good sleep."

It was not entirely a lie. I had slept, at least.

We walked to our desks together, and I threw myself into work with an intensity that surprised even me.

For a few hours, I managed to lose myself completely in code and problem solving.

In this space, I was not someone's wife or someone's burden.

I was just a developer working on an interesting project.

It felt good.

Around mid morning, Vikrant and Archana came over to our desks. Archana was the senior developer on our team, someone I admired greatly for her technical skills and calm demeanor.

"Viya, Akshita," Vikrant said. "We have a big meeting in the conference room in fifteen minutes. Normally junior developers would not be required to attend, but I think it would be a good learning experience for both of you. You can stand in the back and observe how these presentations work."

Akshita and I exchanged excited glances.

"Really?" Akshita said. "We get to sit in on a real client meeting?"

Vikrant smiled.

"Just observe and learn. Bring your iPads in case you need to take notes."

We both nodded enthusiastically and immediately began gathering our things.

In all the excitement about work and meetings and projects, I completely forgot about everything else.

I forgot that I had gotten married yesterday.

I forgot that my life had completely changed.

For just a little while, I was simply Viya again.

And it felt wonderful.