CHAPTER 53! YOU NEVER COAMPLIMENTED ME
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The black Rolls-Royce slowed beneath the warm lights outside Lakeview.
It didn't stop immediately.
Aryav sat in the back seat, one arm resting against the door, his gaze fixed through the tinted window.
The restaurant stood beyond the glass fa?ade, alive with Sunday evening noise-waiters moving between tables, families laughing, couples leaning across candlelit dinners.
Normal.
The car finally came to a stop.
For several seconds, Aryav didn't move. Vivaan stepped out and opened the rear door.
Aryav lowered his gaze to his hand. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a cigarette.
Vivaan watched him strike the lighter. One click. Nothing. A second. The flame appeared.
Aryav shielded it with his palm and lit the cigarette. He inhaled slowly. Smoke curled between his fingers.
Vivaan glanced at him through the open door. "You didn't need to come personally."
Aryav's eyes remained on the restaurant. "I know."
Another drag.
Vivaan waited.
"She's inside?" Aryav asked.
"Yes."
"With Kashvi?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"And the men?"
Vivaan hesitated for barely a second. "Kabir Malhotra and Rajiv Sharma."
Aryav's jaw shifted. He looked toward the restaurant again. Through the glass, people moved behind the warm interior lights, completely unaware of the man sitting outside who had just memorized two names.
"How long?"
"Fifteen minutes."
Aryav glanced at his watch. Then he stepped out of the car. His shoes touched the pavement. He straightened his coat.
The cigarette remained between his fingers.
Vivaan came around the other side and fell into step beside him. They crossed the short distance to the entrance without saying another word.
Halfway there, Aryav stopped. Vivaan stopped too.
Aryav looked through the glass. He couldn't see Aadhira from this angle. His eyes narrowed.
Then he smiled faintly. Not warmly.
"Let's see who has been keeping my wife company."
He walked inside.
The comfortable hum of the dining room didn't shatter all at once. It unraveled in waves.
A laughter-filled table near the front fell quiet first. A waiter, mid-stride with a silver tray resting on his fingertips, froze-his shoulder instinctively pulling back, stepping out of the direct line of sight.
Like a falling row of dominoes, conversations slowed, hesitated, and died.
Near the window, a boy tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mama... why is everyone quiet?"
His mother didn't answer. She instantly cupped her hand over his mouth and pulled him flush against her side, her gaze locked forward, refusing to look at the aisle.
Aryav took a single, unhurried drag of his cigarette. Aryav smoked when his patience was gone.
Today, there was no impatience in his face. Only absolute control.
Vivaan trailed half a step behind him-an immovable shadow keeping a closer watch than usual.
Neither man rushed. Neither acknowledged the wall of staring eyes or the sudden shift in the room's temperature.
Aryav's eyes swept the room, stopping at Table 26. Four people sat there.
He didn't care about three of them.
One of them was his wife.
Kabir, feeling the unnatural stillness, glanced over his shoulder. "...Talk softly," he muttered, forcing a light, awkward smile. "Looks like some celebrity walked in."
Rajiv turned to look. The casual composure on Rajiv's face vanished, the muscle tightening along his jawline.
Across the table, Aadhira's breath caught in her throat.
Aryav.
Without thinking, her hand twitched against the linen tablecloth. She subtly shifted a few inches toward Rajiv-seeking the nearest available barrier, any fraction of distance between herself and the man who had just entered.
It was pure reflex.
Aryav's gaze dropped to the space she had created between herself and him. Then to Rajiv. Then back to her.
She had moved toward another man because she felt safer there.
The cigarette burned untouched between his fingers. He took another drag, but said nothing. His expression remained completely unreadable.
That was the worst part.
Instead of approaching their table immediately, Aryav walked toward an unoccupied four-top six feet away.
The entire dining room watched, suspended in silence.
Aryav stopped. He wrapped a single hand around the high back of an empty wooden chair.
Then, he pulled it.
Wood screamed against polished tile. A woman two tables over flinched, dropping her salad fork; it hit her plate with a sharp clink that felt loud in the dead quiet.
Aryav didn't care. He dragged the chair across the aisle, stopping directly beside Aadhira's table.
Rajiv moved his glass three inches toward himself, his hand trembling slightly.
He hadn't realized he'd done it until Aryav stopped beside the table.
He hadn't been ordered to move, but every instinct in his body was telling him to make room.
Aryav positioned the chair directly into the space between Aadhira and Rajiv. He sat down smoothly, dropping his cigarette into an empty tray, and adjusted his left cufflink.
His eyes never left Aadhira. She was acutely aware of his gaze, but she refused to look up, nervously biting her lip and staring down at her lap.
Vivaan sat beside Kashvi. She flared instantly, her fingers crushing the linen napkin in her lap as she glared at him.
Kabir and Rajiv sat in stunned silence. Trying to break the heavy silence, Kabir forced out, "Do we... know each other?"
"I'm her friend," Vivaan said softly, looking at Kashvi. His voice was completely devoid of warmth.
Aryav didn't speak. He reached out, picked up an untouched glass of water meant for a fourth guest, lifted it to his lips, and took a single, slow sip.
He set the glass down. The wet ring left behind on the white tablecloth was the only sound in the immediate silence.
Only then did he lift his head.
"Please," Aryav said quietly.
"Don't let us interrupt."
He looked at Kashvi.
"We're only joining you. We can do this, right, Kashvi?"
Kashvi swallowed hard and nodded once, her knuckles pale against her lap.
A waiter hovered near the adjacent station, holding a glass water pitcher.
His hand shook so violently that the ice inside rattled against the crystal. He carefully set the pitcher down on a tray, cleared his throat, and quickly backed away into the kitchen.
Cutlery timidly resumed clinking across the room, but at Table 26, air felt scarce.
Kabir cleared his throat, trying to retain some normal manners, though his fingers trembled as he smoothed his tie.
"I think..." he began, his voice tight, "I think we're missing an introduction."
Aryav turned his head slowly toward Kabir.
"No," Aryav said softly.
A beat.
"You're missing context." His dark eyes drifted to Aadhira.
"She's my wife."
My wife.
Aadhira looked at him directly in the eyes. The words shouldn't have affected her.
They did. Her chest tightened. She hated that some part of her still reacted to the way he said it-as though those two words were enough to pull her back into a life she had spent months trying to leave.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table until her nails bit into the fabric.
Across from her, Rajiv slowly lowered his glass, choking on a breath of water before wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Married?" he muttered, his voice raspy.
He looked at Aadhira.
"You didn't look married, Aadhira."
Aryav's fingers stopped against his glass. Aadhira noticed the small shift.
She wished she hadn't.
She offered Rajiv a tight-lipped, silent smile.
Kabir said nothing. He simply sat frozen, realizing he was sitting inside someone else's war.
Aadhira couldn't look at Aryav anymore. Not with him sitting this close.
Not after hearing my wife.
So she looked anywhere else.
Her eyes landed on Rajiv.
Grey. Almost silver beneath the restaurant lights.
She focused on them because focusing on anything was better than focusing on Aryav.
It had been fifteen minutes since they arrived, but the heavy pressure had kept her from noticing before.
Rajiv noticed her stare and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is there something on my face, Aadhira?"
Aadhira snapped out of her thoughts, a faint flush rising on her cheeks.
"No... I'm sorry for staring."
Rajiv offered a weak attempt at a smile. "No problem."
"Actually," she added softly, keeping her gaze fixed on Rajiv, "your eyes are very beautiful."
Rajiv blinked, caught off guard.
"Are you making fun of them?"
Aadhira shook her head quickly, denying it like an innocent child.
"No, I'm telling the truth. They really are."
Rajiv smiled, this time genuinely.
"Thankyou aadhira, You're the first person to say that so nicely. Everyone else usually calls them cat eyes or kanchi aankhen."
"They're wrong," Aadhira said softly. "They're very distinct."
Rajiv smiled.
Beside her, Aryav watched the way Aadhira looked at Rajiv.
Not the compliment itself, but the softness behind it-the gentle, guarded warmth in her voice.
He couldn't remember the last time she had looked at him that way. Something cold and quiet snapped inside him.
Aryav turned his glass slowly between his fingers. Once. Twice.
Vivaan noticed. Quietly, without a word, Vivaan reached out and moved a sharp steak knife two inches farther away from Aryav's right hand.
Aryav's eyes dropped to the knife.
Then lifted to Vivaan.
A silent warning passed between them.
I don't need knife if I choose violence.
Neither spoke. Aadhira was still looking away.
"Beautiful eyes," Aryav said.
The tone wasn't loud. It was smooth, cutting clean through the ambient hum of the restaurant.
Rajiv smiled slightly, assuming it was a compliment.
Aryav tilted his head, his gaze resting on Rajiv's face a second longer than necessary.
"Should I remove them for my wife?" Aryav asked softly.
Rajiv's smile vanished instantly.
Aadhira's head snapped toward Aryav, her pulse spiking. "Aryav-"
"I'm serious, darling," Aryav murmured, his voice dipping into that low register, his gaze never leaving Rajiv.