CHAPTER 4 （mahi）
Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains and settled against my skin, gently pulling me from sleep.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
For a moment, I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above me.
Then reality returned.
The wedding.
The mansion.
Aryan.
I sat upright and rubbed my eyes.
My gaze drifted across the room and landed on the couch.
Aryan was still asleep.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked peaceful.
Yesterday, he had looked angry.
Hurt.
Dangerous.
Now he simply looked exhausted.
I quickly looked away.
Getting out of bed, I quietly made my way toward the bathroom.
On instinct, I walked on my toes.
A strange habit of mine.
I had no idea where I had picked it up, but waking a sleeping person always felt like a crime.
Carefully, I closed the bathroom door behind me with a soft click.
The silence felt comforting.
I stretched my arms above my head before glancing at my reflection.
The girl staring back at me looked surprisingly normal.
The dark circles beneath my eyes had faded.
As if yesterday had never happened.
I rolled my eyes at my reflection.
Yesterday had been one of the strangest days of my life.
I had lost my sister.
Gotten married.
Moved into a stranger's house.
And, for the first time in years, I had nearly lost control of myself in front of other people.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the sink.
Maybe it was because of what Aryan had said.
"Sisters have that bond."
The words echoed through my mind.
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
He really thought we were close.
Maybe we could have been.
Maybe things would have been different.
But they weren't.
Aarushi had spent years believing something I could never change.
That my real mother died because of me.
I stared at my reflection for a moment longer.
Then shook the thought away.
No.
Today was already going to be difficult enough.
I wasn't going to let old ghosts follow me into it.
I splashed cold water onto my face.
The chill instantly woke me up.
For a moment, I simply stood there, enjoying the refreshing sensation against my skin.
Then came a knock on the door.
I didn't need to ask who it was.
There was only one other person in the room.
"How much longer?" Aryan's voice came from the other side.
I glanced at the clock.
"Twenty minutes."
A complete lie.
There was absolutely no chance I was leaving the bathroom in twenty minutes.
Not after yesterday.
Not when this was the only place where I could be alone.
I heard nothing from the other side.
A few seconds later, footsteps moved away.
Good.
I turned on the shower.
Warm water cascaded over my hair and shoulders.
Almost immediately, the tension in my body began to ease.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since yesterday, I felt myself relax.
The warmth seeped into my muscles, washing away some of the exhaustion that had settled deep beneath my skin.
A breath of relief escaped me.
Maybe it was foolish.
Maybe a shower couldn't fix anything.
It couldn't undo the wedding.
It couldn't bring back yesterday.
It couldn't make this mansion feel like home.
But for a few precious minutes, standing beneath the water, I didn't have to think about any of it.
And right now, that was enough.
I tilted my head back and let the water run through my hair.
Trying, if only for a little while, to wash away the stress of the previous day.
After my shower, I pulled out the baby blue saree I had packed.
And immediately regretted my life choices.
There was just one problem.
I had absolutely no idea how to wear it.
I stared at the six yards of fabric spread across the counter.
The saree stared back.
Mocking me.
Wonderful.
With a sigh, I grabbed my phone and called Alina.
The moment she answered, I flipped the camera around.
The moment she answered, I flipped the camera around.
"Help."
She took one look at the saree and burst out laughing.
"This isn't funny."
"It absolutely is."
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Teach me."
Still laughing, she began giving instructions while I followed along.
Or at least attempted to.
"No, not like that."
"I'm doing exactly what you said."
"No, you're creating a fabric disaster."
I glared at the screen.
"This is why people buy ready-made sarees."
"You said ready-made sarees take away the fun."
I groaned.
"Clearly I enjoy creating problems for myself."
Several minutes later, I was somehow more tangled than before.
Just as I was beginning to lose hope, a knock sounded on the bathroom door.
I ignored it.
Another knock followed.
"How much longer?"
Aryan's voice.
I checked the time.
Forty minutes.
Oops.
"Are you coming out or not?"
"No."
I answered calmly while fighting with a particularly stubborn pleat.
Silence.
Then another knock.
Much harder this time.
"What are you doing in there?"
And just like that, the last thread of my patience snapped.
I yanked the saree into place and glared at the door.
"What am I doing?"
I repeated.
"My sister ran away."
I folded one pleat.
"My father married me off to a complete stranger."
Another pleat.
"I am currently trapped inside six yards of fabric."
I nearly lost my balance.
"And you're asking what I'm doing?"
Silence greeted me from the other side.
I pointed accusingly at the door even though he couldn't see me.
"If you're in such a hurry, use another bathroom."
Another pause.
"This house is the size of a small kingdom."
I finally managed to secure a pleat and felt victorious for exactly three seconds.
"There must be at least forty or fifty bathrooms here."
The bathroom fell silent.
Then Alina's laughter exploded through the phone speaker
And for the first time since yesterday, I found myself trying not to laugh too.
I glared at the screen.
Alina completely ignored it.
"You two fight like children."
I rolled my eyes.
"He is a devil."
A suspiciously sheepish smile appeared on her face.
"A handsome devil."
My eyes narrowed immediately.
"Alina."
She lifted both hands in surrender.
"What? I'm just saying."
"You are married."
She gasped dramatically.
"Oh."
A grin spread across her face.
"Someone's jealous."
I stared at her for a long moment.
Then I pointed at the tangled mess of fabric hanging from my shoulder.
"Teach me how to wear this thing before I use it to strangle both of you."
Alina burst into laughter.
I, meanwhile, was completely serious.
Or at least mostly serious.
"Violence is not the answer, Doctor Mahi Rathore."
"Neither is this saree."
I wrestled another pleat into place.
"I am losing a battle against a piece of cloth."
Alina laughed even harder.
"Maybe Aryan can help."
I froze.
Then slowly looked into the camera.
The look on my face made her laugh so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
"I would rather challenge a tiger to hand-to-hand combat."
"That's dramatic."
"No."
I tugged on a stubborn pleat.
"This is dramatic."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Alina smiled softly.
A genuine smile this time.
One that carried years of friendship.
And for the first time since yesterday, the knot in my chest loosened a little.
Because some things, thankfully, hadn't changed.
A breath of relief escaped me as I finally stepped back from the mirror.
Success.
I had survived the saree.
Barely.
Alina stared at the screen in complete silence.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Mahi."
She shook her head.
"You look beautiful."
I pressed my lips together thoughtfully.
"I know I'm beautiful."
For a second, she simply stared at me.
Then she laughed.
"I know you know."
I grinned.
That wasn't arrogance.
It was a fact.
Another silence followed.
I looked at her carefully.
I knew that pause.
Alina always paused before asking questions she wasn't sure she should ask.
Three.
Two.
One.
"What happened last night?"
I smiled.
Right on schedule.
She pointed accusingly at the screen.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Predict me."
"I've known you for years. You're predictable."
She rolled her eyes.
I rolled mine right back.
"Nothing much happened."
Her expression immediately said she didn't believe me.
"He was angry."
That part wasn't exactly surprising.
"And?"
I adjusted the edge of my saree.
"He talked about the sisterly bond between me and Aarushi."
The smile slowly disappeared from Alina's face.
I looked away.
"And I had a panic attack in front of everyone."
Concern immediately filled her eyes.
"Mahi."
"I'm fine."
"Are you?"
I nodded.
The memory still stung, but it wasn't enough to break me.
Not anymore.
I waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't worry so much."
She continued staring at me.
I sighed dramatically.
"Alina, I'm okay."
A small smile finally appeared on her face.
I smiled back.
"Besides."
I adjusted a stubborn strand of hair behind my ear.
"You know me."
She raised an eyebrow.
I grinned.
"I physically cannot stay sad for more than a day."
That finally earned a laugh from her.
And somehow, hearing it made everything feel a little lighter
I stepped out of the bathroom and walked toward the mirror.
The baby blue saree caught the light softly as I moved.
It suited me more than I expected.
The color complemented my skin.
And my eyes.
I tilted my head slightly and studied my reflection.
A small smile formed on my lips.
I even winked at myself.
"I can't stay sad for more than a day," I murmured.
Not because nothing had happened.
But because I had learned something important.
My profession had taught me that you can't control bad things from happening.
Only how you respond to them.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
I didn't run away.
I was as trapped in this situation as he was.
So why should I sit in sadness I didn't choose?
I straightened the saree pleats with my fingers.
And exhaled slowly.
Not everything was in my control.
But my reaction was.
The door opened.
I saw him through the mirror first.
Aryan.
He was wearing a crisp black shirt that clung to his tall frame, sleeves folded up to his elbows.
The veins on his forearms were faintly visible.
His hair was still slightly wet, pushed back carelessly.
He looked... alert.
Not relaxed.
His gaze landed on me instantly.
Calculating.
Measuring.
Like he was still trying to figure something out.
"I thought you wouldn't be out until tomorrow," he said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"You thought wrong."
His jaw tightened.
A muscle flickered near his cheek.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched—sharp, uncomfortable, familiar.
Then—
A knock on the door interrupted him.
I let out a small breath of relief.
Not because I was afraid.
But because I didn't want this turning into another argument.
"Yes?" Aryan called out.
A young male voice came from the other side.
"Sir... everyone is waiting for you both for breakfast."
We both looked at each other.
"We are coming," Aryan said.
"Coming," I repeated.
Relatives.
A crowd.
Fake conversations.
Fake smiles.
Fake happiness.
My least favorite combination.
I took a quiet breath, steadying myself.
Mahi, please do one thing.
Don't say too much.
Because if I did, things would only get worse.
In my family, I had already seen what happens when I speak too freely.
Many relatives stopped visiting our house because of it.
And I refused to let that happen here.
Not again.
Not because of me.
So I made a decision.
Stay quiet.
Nod when needed.
Smile when required.
Answer only if necessary.
Nothing extra.
Nothing that could be used against me later.
Just enough to get through it.
We made our way toward the dining room.
My heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing softly through the hallway.
The house was enormous.
Lavish.
Filled with paintings that looked expensive enough to be untouched, and antique pieces that probably had stories I didn't know.
I walked slightly behind Aryan.
He was annoyingly tall.
Of course he was.
Servants lowered their heads as we passed, and a few maids give me curious glances
I ignored them.
Why was this house so big?
It felt like a maze designed for people who already knew where they were going.
People like me would get lost in five minutes.
Honestly, I needed a map.
The problem was—I probably wouldn't know how to read it even if I had one.
I took a slow breath.
We stopped in front of a massive wooden door carved with intricate designs.
It was beautiful.
Someone had put a lot of effort into it.
For a second, I actually found myself admiring it.
Then I looked at Aryan.
He was calm.
Controlled.
As if none of this affected him at all.
He adjusted his sleeve and pushed the door open.
We stepped inside.
Silence fell instantly.
Every conversation stopped.
Every head turned.
Eyes landed on Aryan first.
Then on me.
I felt it immediately.
Attention.
Too much of it.
And I didn't like it.
Not even a little.
After greeting everyone, we finally sat down.
Next to each other.
My feet subtly pressed into the floor as if trying to disappear into it.
Please don't ask me anything.
Please don't start any unnecessary conversations.
Just let me survive this breakfast in peace.
Thankfully, no one said anything at first.
I picked up my spoon and took a bite.
The moment the food touched my stomach, I realized how hungry I actually was.
It felt like I hadn't eaten in days.
A small sense of relief settled in my body.
For a brief moment—peace.
"Mahi."
My name.
I closed my eyes for a second.
Of course.
Peace never lasts.
I lifted my head and smiled.
A perfect smile.
Polished.
Controlled.
The kind I had practiced for years.
It looked real.
It always did.
An older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, was watching me carefully.
"So," she asked, "what do you do?"
A pause.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I'm a surgeon."
Silence fell over the table.
Instantly.
The atmosphere shifted.
Some looked impressed.
Some looked surprised.
Some looked curious.
And one pair of eyes—
Jealous.
The same woman who had asked the question.
She placed her spoon down with a soft click.
Then looked at me.
"You don't seem like one," she said.
My jaw tightened.
Relax, Mahi.
I told myself to stay calm.
"I am," I replied.
A small laugh escaped her.
Mocking.
Dismissive.
It made my grip tighten around the spoon.
Too tight.
For a moment, I thought it might bend.
"You can't work now," she added casually.
Confusion hit me instantly.
I looked at her.
"I'm sorry... what do you mean?"
She wiped her mouth with a napkin as if this conversation was completely normal.
"In our family," she said, "women don't work after marriage. Old tradition."
Relax mahi breaking plate on her head is not an option a very convient option but still not an option
I exhaled slowly.
My fingers loosened around the spoon.
Not because I agreed.
Because I refused to lose control here.
"I respect your belief," I said carefully.
"But that was then."
"Women didn't work in those times. Now things are different."
I lifted my gaze to meet hers.
"People don't stop getting sick just because I got married
She slammed her hand against the table.
The cutlery jumped with a sharp clatter.
I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself.
The atmosphere at the table shifted instantly.
She pointed a finger at me.
"Watch your mouth, girl. Do you even know who you're talking to? This is my house."
Before I could respond, Aryan placed his spoon down.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
The sound was soft—but it cut through the silence.
"Your house?" he repeated.
The woman froze.
Even the air seemed to stop moving.
Aryan leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on her.
Then, with an unsettling calm, he said,
"Interesting."
A pause.
"Since when is this your house?"
The table went completely silent.
No one spoke.
No one even breathed properly.
The woman quickly forced a smile.
"Aryan, I didn't mean it like that—"
He didn't let her finish.
"This is my house," he said firmly.
"Keep that in mind."
His eyes hardened slightly.
"And you will not tell my wife what she can or cannot do."
Silence dropped again—heavier this time.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
My brows tightened slightly.
Is this the same man from yesterday?
Confusion flashed across my face before I could hi
He looked at me briefly.
Then turned away.
His gaze swept across the table where everyone had suddenly gone back to their plates.
But no one was really eating.
Just pretending.
Just hiding.
Then he spoke.
"She will do whatever she wants," Aryan said calmly.
"And no one will ask her questions. No one will stop her."
The words landed heavily in the room.
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe properly.
I just stared at him.
Slowly, my eyes moved over him—trying to understand what I was seeing.
Is he the same man?
I didn't believe it.
I couldn't.
Across the table, I caught the woman's glare again.
She was still watching me like she wanted to burn me alive.
But the table had already shifted.
Conversations restarted.
Fake laughter returned.
Fake compliments filled the air again.
Everything went back to normal.
Except me.
My mind was stuck on one thing.
"My wife."
The way he said it.
Casual.
Certain.
Final.
He had been ready to destroy me yesterday.
And today—
He was taking my stand.