16. HER ANSWER
Aarvi is now alone in the house. Pragya & kirti went to mandir and Prisha & Vedant is in their college. The one who is left in the house with her is Amit.
Every sound seemed suspicious, the creak of a door, the faint shuffle of footsteps in the hall. Aarvi’s chest tightened. She gripped her phone, pacing the room. Should I call ma and ask her to come back? But then she remembered she didn’t even have her number.
Her eyes darted around in panic, then settled on another thought. Vivan.
Immediately doubt followed.
Should I call him? What if he’s in a meeting? What if he gets angry?
She pressed her lips together, clutching the phone tighter. “Ah! Forget it, Aarvi. Just… call him,” she muttered to herself, as if trying to convince her heart.
She unlocked her phone only to freeze again she didn’t even have his number. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. Wife of Vivan Singhania… but doesn’t even have her husband’s number.
To search for something through which she can get his number she pulled open the drawers of his study table, rifling through files, cards, papers. Finally, her fingers stilled on a sleek business card. His name embossed in gold. And there it was, his number.
Aarvi dialed the number printed on the card, her thumb trembling slightly as the line rang.
“Singhania Enterprises, this is Mr. Singhania’s office,” came a feminine voice.
Aarvi blinked, caught off guard. “Uhm… may I speak to Mr. Vivan Singhania?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
“Do you have an appointment with him, ma’am?” the secretary asked politely.
Aarvi froze. Her eyes darted to the quiet house around the room, thinking about an excuse. Her mouth went dry. She didn’t even have her own husband’s number. And she couldn’t say who she really was.
“I—uh, it’s something urgent,” she managed, the words trembling. “I work… under him. I just needed to confirm a few documents before the deadline.”
There was a pause, then the secretary’s said softly. “Alright, please hold. I’ll transfer your call.”
Aarvi exhaled shakily, clutching the phone tighter. Her heart pounded half with guilt, half with a strange ache she couldn’t name.
Then, after a moment, his voice filled her ear. “Vivan Singhania.”
For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then “Vivan…” she whispered.
He stiffened instantly. “Aarvi?” The surprise in his tone was unmistakable.
Her heart skipped. He sounded surprised more than surprised, Shocked.
For a moment, neither spoke. Aarvi fumbled, clearing her throat. “Uh… hi. I—I just wanted to ask if you could… come home early today.”
The words tumbled out, clumsy, strange. She felt heat creep up her neck. It sounded too normal. Too much like what a wife would casually ask her husband.
Vivan’s brows furrowed on the other end. He leaned back, confusion flickering in his sharp eyes. She called him. “Come home early?” he repeated slowly, as if testing the sentence.
“Yes, I… I mean… only if you’re free. If you’re busy, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.” She spoke too quickly, stumbling over her own explanation.
There was silence, thick with awkwardness. Aarvi bit her lip, wishing she could vanish.
Finally, Vivan exhaled. “I’ll see what I can do.” His voice was low, controlled.
“Okay… thank you,” she whispered, before ending the call quickly, pressing the phone against her chest as if to quiet her racing heart.
She leaned against the desk, eyes closed. The silence of the house pressed in again, but this time, she clung to one thought, he’s coming home.
Vivan stared at his phone long after the line went dead. Aarvi’s hesitant voice still echoed in his ears. She had asked him to come home early. She called me?
His brows furrowed, fingers tightening around the phone. Aarvi wasn’t the type to disturb him without reason. He knew it. She wasn’t bold enough to make unnecessary demands, not with the wall he had built between them.
So if she had reached out… it meant something was wrong.
For the first time in years, his office, his meetings, his perfectly laid-out schedule felt irrelevant. The unease in his chest only grew heavier, crawling through his veins until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“Cancel the next meeting,” he ordered curtly, rising from his chair. His staff looked startled, exchanging confused glances they knew how unshakable their boss’s routine was. But one glare from him was enough to silence questions.
Without wasting another second, Vivan strode out of the office, his mind replaying Aarvi’s voice over and over. She wouldn’t call unless it mattered. Something’s happened. And I need to be there.
The black car door slammed shut behind him as he headed straight for the mansion, unaware of just how much that single call was about to change.
Aarvi came downstairs. Her hands trembled faintly as she poured herself a glass of water. The cold liquid calmed her throat but did nothing for the unease settling in her chest.
Just as she lowered the glass, she felt an unwanted hand sliding against her waist.
A sharp chill shot through her body, freezing her in place. Her breath caught, and for a second, her mind went blank. Slowly, she turned her head.
Amit stood there. Too close. Smirking.
“Sorry,” he drawled casually, his tone anything but apologetic. “I mistakenly-”
That half-hearted excuse, dripping with arrogance, was all it took.
Crack!
The slap echoed across the hall, sharp and unforgiving. Aarvi’s palm stung, but her eyes burned hotter with fury, with disgust, with the exhaustion of holding back for too long.
Amit’s smirk vanished instantly, his cheek reddening under the force of her hand.
At the exact moment, Pragya and Kirti entered from the main door. Both stopped dead at the sight Aarvi standing and Amit with a hand on his face.
Kirti gasped, rushing forward. “Aarvi! How dare you raise your hand on him?” she demanded, her voice shrill with disbelief.
Aarvi’s throat tightened. “Woh-woh mujhe…” her voice cracked as she tried to explain, “…he was misbehaving with me. I couldn’t-”
But Kirti cut her off, eyes wide with anger.
“Shut up! You are twisting the story. He’s my husband, Aarvi!
Main inhe achhi tarah jaanti hoon. Tum nayi ho iss ghar mein, aur tumhari himmat hui…
to slap him?” Her voice trembled with outrage, but underneath it was something else perhaps fear of the truth.
Aarvi’s eyes burned, her palms trembling. She looked desperately toward Pragya, hoping for some support, but Pragya only stood frozen, shocked into silence.
And then, heavy footsteps. A sharp aura filled the air before the man even came into view.
Vivan.