45. THE KNOT
Aarvi was already downstairs, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and loose pyjamas. Her hair was still damp from the shower, a few strands clinging to her cheeks. She sat at the dining table, quietly sipping her tea when Pragya looked up from arranging plates.
“Aarvi, Vivan didn’t wake up yet?” she asked.
Aarvi shook her head.
“Okay, let me go wake him,” Pragya said casually as she wiped her hands on her dupatta and began moving toward the stairs.
Aarvi nearly choked on her tea.
“M-MAA!” she blurted, louder than she intended.
Vinod’s newspaper snapped down instantly, his eyes wide. Pragya froze mid-step, equally startled. Aarvi blinked, realizing she practically screamed.
She forced a nervous grin. “Uhmm… I’ll wake him. Yo-you don’t have to climb so many stairs.”
Pragya looked at her. Then at Vinod. Then at the stairs.
“So you think I can’t climb stairs? Hmm?” she asked, suddenly offended and suddenly very aware of her age.
“N-no, I didn’t mean—”
Before Aarvi could finish, Pragya sighed dramatically. “I thought you were having your tea peacefully, so I didn’t want to disturb you. But fine… apparently I’m old now. Bhalai ka toh koi zamana hi nahi raha.”
Aarvi stared at her mother-in-law, utterly confused and panicking about how to fix this.
“No no, Maa! Who said you’re old? I’m literally jealous of how pretty you are,” she said quickly, hugging Pragya from behind.
Over her shoulder, she gestured frantically at Vinod for help.
Vinod cleared his throat. “Y-yes, Pragya… and understand her. She wants to wake her husband, and you’re not letting her.”
Aarvi nearly stopped breathing. She did NOT ask for this kind of help.
Pragya smirked, fully catching the shade of red rising on Aarvi’s cheeks.
“Oh! Then go, beta,” she said in a teasing tone.
Aarvi knew if she stayed even a second longer, Pragya would tease her until she turned into a full tomato, so she hurried toward the stairs.
Behind her, Pragya called—loudly enough for the whole house to hear—
“Take your time!”
Aarvi didn’t need a mirror to know she was blushing like crazy.
She climbed the stairs with her cheeks still warm from Pragya’s teasing, replaying the subtle knowing smile Pragya had given her. She pressed a palm to her face, trying to cool herself down, but the heat only deepened.
When she pushed open the room door, the sight waiting inside made her breath still.
Vivan was sprawled across the bed as though he hadn’t slept in years. His tie hung loose around his neck, one side of his shirt untucked, and his hair—usually neat, precise—fell in soft, chaotic strands over his forehead. He looked… cute. Vulnerable, even. Nothing like the cold, sharp-edged boss.
Without realizing it, she stepped closer.
She bent slightly, and her fingers hesitated mid-air before gently brushing his messy locks aside. The movement gave her a clear, unguarded view of his face—tired, relaxed, almost boyish.
Her heart tightened unexpectedly.
Kiara and he broke up? But why?
The question whispered through her mind before she could stop it.
She shook her head, pushing the thought away. Not her place. Not her story to wonder about.
Leaning in again, she touched his shoulder lightly.
“Vivan…”
Nothing.
She shook him a little harder this time.
“Vivan, get up… it’s morning.”
Still no reaction.
She sighed, leaned down right beside his ear, and said more firmly—almost scolding without meaning to:
“VIVAN!”
He jolted upright with a sharp, startled inhale, eyes wide, heart clearly racing. Their faces were suddenly just inches apart, his hair mussed, her hand still frozen halfway toward him.
His gaze met hers—confused, sleepy, and unintentionally intense.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Aarvi’s breath caught as she realized just how close they were—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Vivan blinked twice, trying to make sense of why she was practically leaning over him, why her hand hovered by his shoulder, why he had woken up to her voice in his ear.
Then the sting hit.
A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed at the side of his head.
He winced, lifting a hand to his temple. “Damn…”
Before Aarvi could comment, footsteps echoed faintly from downstairs, and Pragya’s voice drifted up the staircase — faint but clear enough to be recognizable.
Aarvi straightened. “Maa is calling.”
Vivan froze.
His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face.
“Wait— maa is calling?”
Aarvi bit her lip, trying very, very hard not to smile.
“Yes.”
His pulse jumped.
“Did they… did they find out I came home drunk yesterday?”
She lifted one shoulder in a slow, nonchalant shrug — the picture of innocence if innocence could also be wickedly amused.
Vivan leaned forward, anxiety sharpening his voice.
“Aarvi. Do they know?”
She let the suspense hang for one delicious second… then said, perfectly straight-faced:
“Yes.”
Vivan paled on the spot.
He looked like someone had just handed him his resignation letter and divorce papers together.
His mouth opened slightly, horror spreading across his expression.
“Oh god… maa is going to kill me.”
Aarvi pressed her lips together, trying not to burst into laughter at how dramatically terrified he looked. She’d never seen Vivan Singhania — the man who glared at board members without blinking — look so… defeated.
“And they’re calling you downstairs,” she added casually.
“Fast.”
His eyes widened even further.
“What— now?!”
She nodded solemnly, even though her eyes gleamed with mischief.
Vivan scrambled out of bed like someone had set it on fire, nearly tripping over his own feet. Aarvi turned away before her composure cracked and walked toward the door.
As she stepped out, she finally allowed herself a tiny smile.
He had absolutely no idea she was teasing.
Meanwhile, inside the room, Vivan was already rushing through his morning routine at lightning speed — splashing water on his face, fixing his hair, buttoning his shirt correctly this time — all while silently praying:
Please don’t let them know. Please don’t let them know. Please don’t—
By the time he bolted downstairs, he was rehearsing excuses in his head, fully prepared to defend himself from a crime his parents hadn’t even discovered.
---
Vivan walked downstairs with the stiffness of a man headed to court. His heartbeat was still thudding against his ribs as he entered the dining room and saw the scene:
Aarvi was already seated.
His parents were calmly having breakfast.
Everyone looked… normal.
He swallowed.
Pragya looked up the moment she saw him.
Her tone sharp, but completely unaware of the storm inside him:
“You’re late.”
That was all.
But to a terrified Vivan, it sounded like a judgment, a verdict, and a ten-year sentence all at once.
“M–maa, I was just— I didn’t drin— I mean, I wasn’t—”
He began spilling excuses so fast even he didn’t know what he was saying.
Pragya blinked, confused.
Vinod paused mid-sip of his tea.
But before Vivan could complete his confession for a crime nobody knew about—
“Vivan.”
Aarvi’s voice cut through, gentle but firm.
He looked at her sharply, a confused frown forming. Aarvi rose slowly from her chair, and he felt her eyes on him with every step she took.
She took one step toward him.
He took one step back.
Another step by her.
Another retreat by him.
His parents’ expressions turned from confusion to curiosity.
And then—
She reached him.
Before he could move, Aarvi grabbed his tie and tugged him forward.
Pragya’s eyes shot wide.
Vinod almost choked on his tea.
And Vivan? He forgot how lungs worked.
“Aarvi—?” he breathed, stunned, blinking down at her in disbelief.
She ignored his panic and leaned in slightly, her fingers brushing the knot of his tie. He swallowed hard the moment her knuckles grazed his throat.
Her voice was a breath—soft, private, meant only for him:
“Don’t.”
The word shivered down his spine.
Vivan’s mouth opened in protest, “A..Aarvi—”
“Let me,” she whispered again, pretending to adjust his tie — even though it was already perfect.
Her fingertips brushed the skin above his collar, sending a quiet electric jolt through him. He went still. Rigid. Barely breathing.
His parents, meanwhile, were frozen statues.
Vinod’s eyebrows were halfway to his hairline.
Pragya’s spoon hovered in mid-air, forgotten.
Both were watching the scene like some dramatic twist in a daily soap had just dropped.
Aarvi, without breaking the illusion, leaned closer and whispered so softly only he could hear:
“They don’t know anything.”
Understanding washed over him instantly.
She was saving him.
She was covering for him.
And she was doing it by boldly pretending to… fix him.
Vivan blinked once. Twice.
Somewhere between panic and awe.
Aarvi stepped back with a polite little smile—as though she hadn’t just pulled him by his tie in front of his parents.
“There,” she said softly. “Now you can sit.”
And Vivan just stood there, staring at her, utterly speechless.
Aarvi stepped back from him, but her heart was still hammering from what she’d just done. The moment her fingers had touched the warm skin above his collar, her hand had trembled — visibly. She hoped no one had noticed, but Vivan had.
Of course he had.
Even as she lowered her gaze to hide the rising pink on her cheeks, she could still feel the ghost of that contact on her fingertips.
Vivan just stared at her, stunned, forgetting completely that they were not alone.
Pragya’s voice broke the silence.
“Well,” she said casually, stirring her tea, “it’s good someone in the house knows how to… take care of details.”
Aarvi froze.
Vivan blinked.
Pragya didn’t look at either of them, but the subtle emphasis — someone and take care — was loud enough.
Vinod coughed into his cup to hide a smile.
Aarvi’s blush deepened instantly. She lowered her head. Her fingers were still shaking from touching his skin, from pulling him close. She tried to slip back into her seat quietly, hoping no one saw—
But Pragya wasn’t done.
She looked at Vivan with a lifted brow.
“You should thank her. Not everyone… fixes things for you so willingly.”
Aarvi nearly choked on air.
Vivan’s ears turned visibly red.
“M–maa, it wasn’t— I mean— she just—”
He stumbled over every word, completely losing the cool businessman aura he wore like armor.
Aarvi’s eyes darted up at him, shy and wide, before she quickly looked away again.
Pragya smirked into her teacup.
Vinod leaned back, clearly enjoying the show.
“Beta, sit,” he said lightly. “Before your wife feels the need to come fix something else.”
Aarvi almost died.
Her entire face turned crimson.
Vivan swallowed hard, glaring at his father with silent betrayal, but he obeyed and sat down — stiff, embarrassed, and absolutely refusing to meet Aarvi’s eyes now.
Aarvi tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, still blushing furiously, her heart racing from the closeness, the lie she’d told, and the tease she absolutely deserved.
As they continue with their breakfast
Breakfast had barely settled into a rhythm when Vinod set down his cup with a quiet but firm thud.
“Vivan,” he said, not looking up from his plate, “you have to attend Aadhya’s engagement.”
It wasn’t a request.
It was an instruction.
Vivan froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.
Aarvi paused as well, sensing the shift.
“Papa, you know the company situation,” Vivan began carefully. “We can’t leave Delhi right now, not when—”
“That’s exactly why I said attend only the engagement,” Vinod cut him off smoothly.
“I’ve explained everything to the Sharmas. They understand we can’t be there for the wedding. But engagement? That is non-negotiable.”
Vivan stared at him a moment.
“Papa, but—”
Pragya stepped in, wiping her hands on her napkin.
“Beta, try to understand. Prisha and Vedant are on a trip, otherwise I would’ve told one of them to go instead.”
The guilt hit instantly, exactly the way Pragya intended.
Vivan looked at his mother — her calm insistence, her tone that was soft but absolute — and exhaled a long breath, defeated.
“Fine,” he muttered.
He picked up his spoon again, resigning himself to the inevitable.
But Pragya wasn’t finished.
“Also,” she added casually, eyes still on her plate, “Aarvi will go with you.”
Aarvi’s head snapped up so fast her dupatta nearly slipped off her shoulder.
“Huh?” she whispered under her breath.
Vivan looked equally startled.
But Pragya didn’t give either of them a chance.
She said simply. “She is your wife, so of course she should go with you.”
Aarvi’s eyes widened slightly, and she turned toward Vivan with a silent, desperate question in her gaze:
Why me?
Vivan gave her a tiny shrug — a helpless, wordless apology.
I can’t do anything.
Aarvi inhaled, then nodded slowly, accepting it with the quiet grace she always carried.
“Yes, Maa,” she said softly.
Pragya didn’t show it, but the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips showed she noticed every reaction — his surprise, Aarvi’s panic, the silent exchange between them.
Vinod watched the whole scene unfold with a satisfied nod.
And Vivan…
He pushed his food around his plate, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he would be traveling alone with Aarvi.
He didn’t know whether the tightness in his chest was irritation… or something else entirely.
Aarvi stood in front of the full–length mirror, struggling with the last part of her look which she is wearing to go to Sharma's house.
The white saree draped around her shimmered whenever she moved, the glittered border catching the light delicately.
But the real problem… was the blouse.
Backless.
Just two delicate strings meant to tie at the center of her back — and her fingers simply wouldn’t reach.
She tried once more, twisting, stretching, holding her breath—
The knot slipped again.
Aarvi let out a soft sigh, brushing her hair aside in irritation. Finally she called, a little louder:
“Maa…?”
After sometimePragya appeared near the door. “Haan, beta?”
Aarvi turned slightly, her open back exposed, cheeks warming in embarrassment.
“Maa, I’m having trouble with this lace… could you please help me tie it?”
Her voice was polite but shy.
Pragya stepped forward automatically — and then stopped.
A slow, unmistakable mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes.
Her lips curved into a secretive smile.
“Oh no… I just remembered I have so much work downstairs,” she said, already turning back. “I’ll send someone to help, okay?”
“Maa—?” Aarvi tried to stop her, confused.
But Pragya was gone in a flash, almost running, leaving Aarvi standing there with the lace still untied in her hands.
Vivan was walking across the hall, phone pressed to his ear, his voice clipped and businesslike.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black three-piece suit — sharp cut waistcoat, crisp shirt, blazer draped smoothly over his shoulders.
His hair was styled neatly, the color deepening under the soft lighting.
He looked infuriatingly good without even trying.
Pragya stopped him mid-call.
“Vivan!”
He paused, one brow lifting.
“Haan, Maa?”
“She’s calling you.”
He frowned. “She? Who?”
Pragya gave him a look as if he were being slow on purpose.
“Aarvi. Go upstairs, she needs you.”
Vivan blinked, thoroughly confused.
“Aarvi is… calling me?” he repeated, pointing at himself.
Pragya nodded firmly, pushing him toward the stairs before he could argue.
He ended his call in confusion and headed up, each step making his curiosity—and a faint, unexplainable tension—grow stronger.
What could she possibly want from me?
He reached the door… still not having the faintest idea of what awaited him on the other side.
Vivan knocked lightly.
Aarvi, still believing Pragya had sent a house-help lady or some family member, called out without turning,
“Come in.”
He pushed the door open—
—and stopped dead.
His breath caught.
Aarvi stood near the mirror, her white saree glittering softly under the light, but his eyes didn’t linger on the fabric.
Her back was bare — smooth, delicate — only two untied strings hanging loosely from her blouse.
His fingers tightened slightly on the doorknob.
She turned at the sound of his steps, and the moment she saw him, she froze too.
“Y–You?” Her voice cracked in disbelief.
Vivan cleared his throat. His eyes tried — and failed — to look anywhere else.
“M.. Maa told me you were calling me.”
Aarvi blinked rapidly. She understood instantly.
Pragya’s mischief.
Her trapped situation.
His shock.
“Ah… she said you n-need h… help,” he added awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to the air, unsure where to look.
Aarvi swallowed, fingers nervously clutching her saree pallu.
“Y-Yeah… w-with the lace of the… bl-blouse,” she whispered, staring at the floor.
Vivan dragged a hand to the back of his neck, massaging it in embarrassment.
“So you called me?”
Aarvi’s head snapped up, eyes wide.
“N–No! Maa told me she would send someone for help… and then she—” her voice dropped to a tiny whisper,
“sent you.”
Vivan let out a slow exhale.
“Turn around,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. “W-What?”
He raised a brow. “What? You think Maa will come back to help you now?”
Aarvi looked defeated… and painfully shy.
She turned around, each second stretching the air tighter between them.
Her entire back glowed under the soft light.
He took one step forward… then another.
Aarvi felt the warmth of him behind her even before he touched her.
She stiffened, breath catching in her throat.
Vivan hesitated—just a heartbeat—his jaw clenching once, his throat bobbing.
Then he reached forward, fingers brushing the loose strings of her blouse.
His fingertips grazed her bare back.
Aarvi inhaled sharply.
Her skin reacted instantly—tiny shivers running up her spine.
He lifted the strings with slow care, his knuckles tracing her skin as he brought the ends together. Aarvi couldn’t help it—her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing uneven.
His breath fanned softly across her shoulder as he leaned in to tie the first knot.
Warm.
Close.
Too close.
Goosebumps rose along her back, betraying her completely.
In the mirror, she saw his eyes flick up—
just once—
meeting hers.
The jolt of that eye contact ignited the air between them.
He quickly looked down again… but this time, a smirk curved on his lips as he tied the second knot—tight.
So tight.
Aarvi’s lips parted. “Vi… Vivan”
He leaned in, lips dangerously close to her ear, speaking softly while looking at her in the mirror.
“What?” he asked, all false innocence.
“It… it’s too tight…” she whispered.
“Oh really?” His tone dipped into a teasing whisper. “But aren’t you the one who tightened my tie downstairs.... You know I almost choked?”
Aarvi froze as the memory hit her.
Her hands fumbling with his tie…
His eyes locked on hers…
Her breath brushing his neck…
“I—I was just trying to save you,” she defended weakly.
“Oh really?” he repeated, voice dipping lower. “But weren’t you the same one who threw me into that condition in the first place?”
Her cheeks burned. Aarvi looked down, face fully hot with embarrassment.
“Look up, Aarvi.”
His voice softened, but the command in it sent a shiver down her spine.
She looked up slowly.
And just then—
his fingers tugged.
He untied the strings completely.
Her eyes flew wide open.
She stared at him in the mirror—shocked, breathless, exposed—
while he only smirked.
“This,” he said, stepping back slightly, “is your punishment for what you did in the morning.”
She turned halfway toward him, mortified.
“Vivan! W-What are you doing? Everyone is w..waiting downstairs!”
He shrugged casually. “That’s your problem, not mine.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, voice half frustrated, half flustered.
He leaned forward again, voice dropping lower—
“Okay… I’ll tie it.”
A pause.
“But I have a condition.”
Her stomach flipped. “W-What?”
He stepped closer…
and she instinctively stepped back.
“You have to ask me,” he said softly, “the way you asked Maa.”
Aarvi’s breath hitched.
Her blush crept from her neck to her ears.
Her fingers tightened around her saree.
But she finally whispered, so softly she barely heard herself—
“Vivan… will you tie the knot?”
His eyes darkened with something she couldn’t name.
Grabbing her shoulders he turned her again and finally tied the blouse—this time gentle, careful, almost tender.
His touch lingered longer than necessary.
Just a half-second.
But enough to send her heartbeat wild.
He stepped back.
Both of them stood still—breathing too quietly, too carefully.
In the mirror, their eyes met again.
This time, neither of them looked away.
~?~