Chapter 16
Viya
The party ended around one in the morning. By that time, most of the guests had already left, and only a handful of people remained, still chatting in small groups near the bar.
Puneet and I had stayed until the end, talking with Akshita and some of the other developers. It had been a nice evening, all things considered. The music had been good. The food had been excellent. Puneet had been his usual charming self, making me laugh with his jokes and stories.
But throughout the entire night, I had been acutely aware of Armaan's absence.
I had seen him when I first arrived. Just for a moment. Standing near the bar with a glass of whiskey, deep in conversation with several board members. He had looked devastatingly handsome in his black suit, his jaw set in that serious expression he wore when discussing business.
But after that first glimpse, I had not seen him again. It was as though he had vanished from the party entirely.
Puneet dropped me home, walking me to the door like the gentleman he had always been.
"Thank you for tonight," I said, giving him a hug. "I needed this."
"Anytime, Viya. You know I am always here for you." He pulled back and studied my face with concern. "Are you okay? You seemed distracted all evening."
I forced a smile.
"I am fine. Just tired. It has been a long month."
He did not look convinced, but he nodded anyway.
"Get some rest. Call me if you need anything."
I watched him drive away, then let myself into the quiet house. The lights were dim, and everyone seemed to be asleep already.
I climbed the stairs slowly, my feet aching in the heels I had been wearing all night. When I reached the bedroom, I found it empty. Armaan was still not home.
I took a long shower, washing away the makeup and hairspray and the lingering scent of the party. The hot water felt good on my tired muscles, and I stayed under the spray longer than necessary, trying to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in my chest.
By the time I emerged, wrapped in a towel, it was almost two in the morning. I changed into my comfortable cotton pajamas.
Still no sign of Armaan.
Where was he? Was he still at the party? Had he gone somewhere else?
I climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I should sleep. I was exhausted. But my mind would not quiet down.
I was just starting to drift off when I heard it. The sound of the bedroom door opening.
I sat up quickly, my heart jumping into my throat.
Armaan stumbled through the doorway. His tie was loosened, his hair disheveled, and his movements were unsteady. He kicked the door shut behind him and turned the lock with fumbling fingers.
He was drunk. Very drunk.
"Armaan?" I said softly, pushing the covers aside and standing up. "Are you okay?"
He did not answer. He just stood there, swaying slightly, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
I moved toward him, instinct overriding caution. He looked like he was about to fall over.
"Here, let me help you—"
Before I could finish the sentence, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was firm, almost bruising, as he pulled me toward him.
Then he spun me around and pushed me back against the wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to trap me there.
His hands came up on either side of my head, caging me in. His body was so close I could feel the heat radiating from him. Could smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with his cologne.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. The air between us felt electric, charged with something dangerous and thrilling.
He leaned down, his face coming closer to mine. His intention was clear.
He was going to kiss me.
Part of me wanted it desperately. Wanted to feel his lips on mine, wanted to finally close this distance that had been torturing us both.
But he was drunk. He was not in his right mind.
I turned my face to the side at the last second, his lips grazing my cheek instead.
"Armaan, stop. You are not in your senses right now."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, and there was something dark and bitter in his expression. A cruel smile curved his lips.
"Is that the reason?" His voice was low and rough, edged with something that sounded like pain. "Or is it something else?"
I did not understand what he meant.
"What are you talking about?"
His smile widened, but there was no humor in it.
"Do you want somebody else to kiss you? Is that it?"
The words hit me like a slap. I pushed against his chest, trying to create space between us.
"You are talking nonsense. You need to sleep this off."
I tried to move away, to escape from the cage of his arms, but he was faster. His arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. One hand came up to rest against my throat, not squeezing, just holding. The other arm banded around my waist, keeping me locked in place.
I felt his face bury into the curve of my neck. He inhaled deeply, as though he was trying to memorize my scent.
"Did you like it?" His voice was muffled against my skin, dark and possessive. "Did you like it when he touched you?"
"What? Who?" I was genuinely confused now. My heart was racing, but no longer from excitement. There was something in his tone that frightened me. Something raw and barely controlled.
"Don't play innocent with me, Viya." His lips brushed against my neck as he spoke, sending involuntary shivers down my spine. "I saw everything. I saw how you were enjoying that other man's attention. How you smiled at him. Laughed with him. Danced with him."
Understanding crashed over me. He was talking about Puneet.
"He is just a friend, Armaan. You know that."
"Just a friend," he repeated mockingly. His grip tightened slightly. "Just a friend who gets to touch you. Who gets to make you smile. Who gets to be near you while your husband has to watch from across the room like a stranger."
"That is not fair—"
"Fair?" His laugh was bitter and harsh. "You want to talk about fair? When your husband is touching you, you run away. But when some other man puts his hands on you, you let him. You stand there and let him."
His mouth pressed against my neck, hot and demanding. Not quite a kiss, but something more desperate. More possessive.
"I want my rights," he growled against my skin. "I want what belongs to me."
Then his lips parted, and he kissed my neck with a hunger that made my knees weak. His teeth grazed my skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to mark. To claim.
Panic and something else, something hot and confusing, flooded through me. I gathered all my strength and shoved hard against his arms.
This time, I managed to break free. I stumbled away from him, my hand coming up to touch my neck where I could still feel the ghost of his lips.
"Stop," I said, my voice shaking. "Just stop."
Armaan stood there, breathing hard, his eyes wild and dark. For a moment, I thought he might come after me again.
But then I straightened my spine and looked him directly in the eyes.
"You have every right on me, Armaan. Every single one. But not like this. Not when you are drunk and angry and not thinking clearly."
Something in my words seemed to reach him through the haze of alcohol and jealousy. The wildness in his eyes dimmed slightly. His shoulders sagged.
He laughed then, but it was a hollow, defeated sound. Without another word, he turned and collapsed onto the bed, still fully dressed.
I stood there for a long moment, my heart still racing, my neck still tingling where he had kissed me. Part of me wanted to go to him. To lie down beside him and let him hold me the way he clearly wanted to.
But another part of me was hurt. Hurt by his accusations. Hurt that he thought I would want anyone else's attention when all I could think about was him.
I walked over to where he lay sprawled across the bed. His eyes were closed, his breathing already deepening toward sleep.
I knelt down on the floor beside the bed, bringing myself to his eye level.
"Armaan, listen to me. I need you to understand something."
His eyes opened, hazy and unfocused.
"You are a liar," he said, his words slurring together. "I saw how you were enjoying yourself with your so called friend. Saw how comfortable you were with him."
The words cut deeper than they should have. He thought I was lying to him. Thought I had feelings for Puneet.
"That is not true," I whispered. "That is not true at all."
But he was not listening anymore. His eyes had closed again, and within seconds, he was unconscious.
I sat there on the floor for a while, just watching him sleep. His face was peaceful now, all the anger and pain smoothed away. He looked younger like this. Vulnerable.
Finally, I stood up and began taking care of him. I unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, setting them neatly by the closet. Then I worked on his jacket, managing to wrestle it off his limp arms. His tie came next, and I unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt so he could breathe easier.
I pulled the blanket up over him, tucking it around his shoulders.
My neck still tingled where he had kissed me. My skin still felt branded by his touch.
I was too wired to sleep. Too many emotions churning in my chest.
I walked out to the balcony and sat in the recliner, pulling my knees up to my chest. The night air was cool, and the city below was mostly dark at this hour.
Why had he said those things? Why had he been so angry?
Was it just the alcohol talking? Or was there something deeper? Something real?
I sat there for a long time, trying to make sense of everything. Trying to understand what was happening between us.
Eventually, the cold drove me back inside. I climbed into bed beside Armaan's sleeping form, staying on my side, keeping distance between us.
But the moment I settled under the covers, his arm reached out in his sleep. He found me in the darkness and pulled me close, tucking me against his chest. His face buried in my hair, and he let out a deep, contented sigh.
I should have pulled away. Should have maintained the distance.
But he looked so peaceful with me in his arms. His breathing was deep and even, his hold on me gentle but secure.
So I stayed. I let him hold me. Let myself be held.
And despite everything, despite the confusion and the hurt and the anger, I felt safe there.
We fell asleep like that, tangled together in the darkness.
I woke early the next morning, my body clock refusing to let me sleep in despite how late we had gone to bed. Armaan was still fast asleep beside me, his arm still draped over my waist.
Carefully, I extracted myself from his hold and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower.
When I emerged, wrapped in a towel, Armaan was still unconscious. He was going to have a terrible headache when he woke up.
I dressed quietly and headed downstairs to make breakfast for Dadi. It was my routine now, and I found comfort in it. The familiar motions of cooking, the warmth of the kitchen, the satisfaction of preparing something nourishing.
I made aloo parathas with yogurt and pickle, then prepared a lighter meal of oats and fruit for Dadi. I set everything out on the dining table and went to help Rekha, Dadi's nurse, bring her out to the dining room.
Dadi settled into her chair with a grateful smile.
"You spoil me, beta. The food smells delicious."
I was about to respond when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I looked up.
Armaan was coming down, and he was pulling a suitcase behind him.
My heart sank.
Dadi noticed at the same time.
"Armaan? What is this? Are you going somewhere?"
Armaan reached the bottom of the stairs and set the suitcase upright. He would not meet my eyes.
"I have to go to Japan. For business. I will be gone for about a month."
"A month?" Dadi's voice rose with surprise and concern. "Why did you not mention this before? This is very sudden."
"It was an emergency situation. Something came up with one of our major contracts, and I need to handle it personally."
His voice was flat. Professional. Like he was talking to a stranger.
"You haven't even had breakfast," Dadi gestured to the food on the table. "At least eat something before you leave."
"I will get something at the airport. I really need to go. The flight leaves in a few hours."
I stood frozen by the table, the serving spoon still in my hand. He had not told me about this trip. Had not mentioned anything about going to Japan for a month.
A month. He would be gone for an entire month.
Dadi tried to protest again, but Armaan was already moving toward the door, pulling his suitcase behind him.
"I am sorry, Dadi. I really am running late. I will call you once I land."
He stopped at the door and turned back. For just a second, his eyes met mine.
There was something in his gaze. Something that looked like regret. Or maybe pain. I could not tell.
Then he looked away, opened the door, and walked out.
Just like that, he was gone.
I stood there, staring at the closed door, the paratha I had been about to serve still steaming on the platter.
He had left. Without explanation. Without saying goodbye properly.
Without giving me a chance to explain about Puneet. Without letting me tell him that he was the only one I wanted.
A month.
I would not see him for an entire month.
And I had no idea if he was running away from me, or from himself.