40. SILENCE
Aarvi steadied herself, breath uneven, the ghost of his touch still warm at her waist.
Vivan cleared his throat and stepped back quickly.
“Careful,” he muttered, trying to sound casual — though both of them were very aware of how close they had been.
Aarvi opened her mouth to respond, but—
His phone lit up.
Her eyes flicked to the screen out of instinct.
Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
She looked up at him… just in time to see it —
the soft smile that touched his lips the moment he saw the name.
A smile she had never received.
A smile he probably didn’t even know he gave.
Aarvi felt something inside her dip, quietly, painfully.
And in the space of a heartbeat, the warmth of the moment they had shared vanished… replaced by the cold reminder of reality.
He loves someone else.
Kiara.
You saw them kissing. Don’t forget.
Her fingers tightened at the hem of her kurti.
“I—just a minute,” Vivan said quickly, stepping aside as he answered the call, his voice turning unexpectedly softer.
Aarvi looked away immediately, forcing her expression blank as she walked ahead.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time he ended the call and caught up to her, she had already slipped into silence — a careful, practiced kind.
Instinctively, Aarvi straightened her kurti and stepped a little to the side, putting a small, safe distance between them. She didn’t say anything — not a single word — and somehow that silence felt heavier than before.
Vivan glanced at her once, confused. Earlier she was glowing, smiling at him… and now she looked like she lost her excitement.
They reached the door. He held it open for her.
She didn’t meet his eyes.
Just murmured, “Thanks,” and walked in quickly.
Vivan watched her for a second longer, trying to understand the sudden shift.
Aarvi stepped out of the bathroom, wiping her damp hair with a towel. The room was dim except for the soft glow from Vivan’s phone screen. He was sitting on his side of the bed, scrolling—expression unreadable, attention nowhere near her.
Her eyes shifted to the other side of the bed.
Empty.
Untouched.
He had left space for her. For the first time, it hit her that she shouldn’t assume she belonged anywhere in his life just because the word wife was attached to her name. A quiet boundary rose inside her—soft, but firm.
She didn’t want to be an obligation.
Or a burden.
Or someone who sleeps beside him just because fate forced them together.
So she walked silently to her side of the bed, picked up the extra pillow… and turned away—towards the couch.
The rustle made Vivan look up sharply.
A frown. “What happened?”
Aarvi didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch.
She had expected this—questions asked without care, concern without warmth.
“It’s nothing,” she replied, offering a small, polite smile over her shoulder. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes.
“Then why…?” he began, unable to complete the sentence.
She finally faced him fully.
“Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Vivan,” she said quietly.
“Sharing the bed isn’t necessary. I’m fine here.”
Her tone wasn’t accusing.
Just calm.
Controlled.
She walked to the couch and placed the pillow down, her movements unhurried—almost graceful in their acceptance.
Vivan’s jaw tightened. Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest, but he said nothing.
And Aarvi didn’t wait for his reaction.
She simply chose her own space.
In the morning,
Vivan woke up earlier as usual, the room still dim with soft morning light. He pushed himself up, stretching lightly — and his gaze automatically drifted toward the couch.
There she was.
Aarvi.
Curled awkwardly on the narrow cushion, half-wrapped in the bedsheet she had dragged with her last night. One leg was hanging off the edge, her hair a complete mess, and a tiny frown sat on her forehead like she was deeply annoyed at something in her dreams.
A helpless smile tugged at Vivan’s lips.
Over the past few days, he had learned one thing very clearly:
Aarvi doesn't wake up easily. At all.
But the moment she shifted, trying to get comfortable and failing miserably, the smile faded. It didn’t sit right with him — her choosing the uncomfortable couch instead of the bed he had left half-empty.
His brows knitted.
Why did she act so distant last night?
She wasn’t like this the whole day…
Confusion lingered, but he pushed it aside. First, he had to wake her — which was nearly impossible but still his daily responsibility at this point.
He walked to the couch and leaned forward slightly.
“Aarvi,” he called softly, nudging her shoulder.
Not even a twitch.
He sighed.
Expected.
He shook her a little harder. “Aarvi, wake up.”
Nothing… until she mumbled, voice thick and sleepy:
“…five minutes more…”
Vivan rolled his eyes, lips curving automatically.
“Okay,” he muttered, “but not more than that.”
She didn’t reply.
Just continued snoring softly.
A small, unwilling smile escaped him before he turned and walked toward the bathroom to start his morning routine.
When Vivan left for the bathroom, Aarvi instantly drifted back into sleep — deeply, comfortably, as if the world didn’t exist for a few more minutes.
After a while, the soft click of the bathroom doorknob echoed through the room.
Her eyes flew open.
She scrambled upright, pushing her hair back in a rush as Vivan stepped out, drying his hands and walking toward the bed. He froze for a second, surprised at how quickly she woke up now.
“I’m up,” Aarvi announced immediately, flashing a small grin as if she had been awake for hours.
Vivan huffed a faint, amused breath. “Good morning,” he said with a short nod, trying to ignore the fact that she clearly woke up just because she heard him.
He moved aside, giving her space.
Aarvi stood, grabbed her things, and quietly walked past him — keeping just enough distance, enough to make him notice — and went inside the bathroom without another word.
The door clicked shut.
And Vivan found himself staring at it longer than necessary, confusion tightening in his chest again.
A few minutes later, Aarvi stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying her damp hair.
The room was empty now — the bed already made, Vivan nowhere in sight.
She exhaled softly.
Good… maintaining distance will be easier this way.
She applied a little moisturizer, straightened her kurti, and headed downstairs.
The moment she reached the last step, she heard Vinod’s voice booming warmly,
“—we all are invited!”
Then they hear Aarvi's footsteps, Everyone turned toward her.
“Come, bhabhi! Sit here!” Prisha practically bounced, patting the space beside her on the sofa.
Aarvi smiled gently and sat down.
Her eyes instinctively drifted toward Vivan — he was sitting diagonally across, one hand resting on his knee, the other resting on the armrest of the sofa, fingers tapping it.
The moment their eyes almost met, she looked away sharply, focusing on the pattern of the carpet instead.
Vivan’s fingers paused.
Just for a second.
His brows pulled together in the faintest crease — confused.
But he said nothing.
Trying to act normal, Aarvi turned back to Vinod.
“Which invitation are you talking about, Papa?” she asked, adjusting herhairs.
Aarvi waited for Vinod to continue, and he did—glowing with excitement.
“It’s my old friend’s daughter’s wedding,” Vinod announced proudly. “They’ve personally invited the entire Singhania family. It’s a big function… days long.”
Prisha clasped her hands dramatically.
“That means outfits, makeup, haldi, sangeet—everything! I’m so excited already!”
Aarvi smiled, sharing the excitement.
Vinod chuckled, shaking his head.
“Even I was shocked when I heard the news. But maybe she’s planning to complete her studies after the wedding.”
“Oh.” Pragya made a small ‘oh’ face, accepting the explanation.
Just then, a servant stepped forward.
“Ma’am, breakfast is ready.”
Pragya nodded and called everyone toward the dining table. They all moved to their seats—Aarvi slipping into her usual place beside Vivan.
Except today… she felt different. Quieter. Distant.
Vivan noticed immediately.
“Aarvi,” he said softly.
She looked up. “Hmm?”
Their eyes met.
He tried to read her expression… but it was blank. Calm. Unreachable.
“Will you please pass me the salt?”
Aarvi nodded, handed it to him without hesitation—
but without warmth too.
Prisha noticed the change instantly.
But she chose to stay quiet, her eyes flicking between the two.
Breakfast continued with light conversation… except for the silent tension pulsing between the husband and wife who weren’t supposed to feel this much.
After everyone finished eating, chairs scraped back and people stood up. Vivan grabbed his keys, slipping into his usual routine.
“Aarvi,” he called, “are you ready?”
Everyone expected her to nod, grab her bag, walk out with him like every day.
Instead…
Aarvi stopped tightening her braid.
Her fingers stilled.
“Actually…” she said slowly, “I’ll go by myself today.”
The room stilled.
“What?” Prisha whispered under her breath.
Pragya looked up, startled.
Vinod paused, mid-step.
Even Vivan’s expression flickered.
“You’ll go by yourself?” he repeated, confusion tightening his voice.
Aarvi tried to smile politely.
“Yes. It’s easier. I mean… usually you drop me fifteen minutes before the office so no one sees us coming together. Then I have to walk through the back lane.”
She shrugged softly.
“It makes more sense if I book a cab and get dropped at the front gate itself. Saves time.”
Her reasoning was perfect.
Logical.
Almost too logical.
But her eyes never met his.
“Aarvi,” Vivan said, frowning, “since when does this bother you?”
“It’s not bothering me,” she replied quickly. “I just realized it’s a practical option. That’s all.”
She picked up her bag without looking at him.
“I’ll leave in five minutes,” she added, voice calm.
Then she walked past him—
not once glancing back.
Vivan stood there holding his car keys, watching her go…
and for the first time, felt something sharp and uneasy tugging at him.
For the first time in weeks, Vivan walked out of the house alone.
No soft footsteps beside him.
No faint sound of her anklets.
No, “Wait… I’m coming.”
Just… silence.
He unlocked the car and sat inside, but didn’t start the engine immediately. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
I will go by herself today.
Her words replayed in his head on loop.
Why did it bother him so much?
She wasn’t wrong.
Her logic was correct.
They were keeping their marriage hidden.
They always arrived separately.
So why did that small change feel so painfully significant?
He exhaled sharply and finally started the car.
As he drove out of the gates, something felt incomplete. Empty.
Like a routine he didn’t realize he depended on… had suddenly been stolen.
He glanced at the empty seat next to him.
The seat that usually held a girl who looked out of the window quietly, fidgeting her fingers nervously
… sometimes falling asleep softly.
Today it looked too clean.
Too untouched.
Too wrong.
His jaw tightened.
Why is she behaving like this? What did I do?
He couldn’t figure it out.
And that frustrated him even more.
The red light stopped his car.
And his mind whispered a thought he didn’t want to hear—
Is she trying to stay away from me?
A hollow ache bloomed in his chest.
He hated that idea.
More than he should.
Aarvi stepped out of the house after exactly five minutes, just as she said. She booked a cab, the morning breeze lifting the strands of her freshly dried hair.
She wasn’t angry.
She wasn’t upset.
She was… controlling herself.
As the cab approached, she inhaled slowly.
Good. Distance is good. You need this.
She opened the door and settled inside.
“Office?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” she said softly.
The cab started moving, passing the same roads she normally saw through Vivan’s car window. Except now… everything felt different.
A tiny ache wrapped around her chest.
She ignored it.
She rested her hand on her lap calmly, eyes fixed outside the window.
No cologne filling the air.
No quiet hum of Vivan tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
No sudden, “Seatbelt, Aarvi,” in that annoyed-soft tone he always used.
Just silence.
But silence wasn’t peaceful today.
It felt like loneliness pretending to be logic.
Aarvi pressed her fingers into her palm.
You're doing the right thing. Stop getting close. Stop getting comfortable. He’s taken. He loves someone else. And you… you can't afford to break yourself.
Her throat tightened, but she looked ahead firmly.
Distance was safer.
Necessary.
Even if it hurt.
Even if a small, stubborn part of her missed the very routine she was trying to escape.