CHAPTER 60! BETTER? #2
He looked at his wrist. The bite had left a red mark across his skin, and there was still a little dried blood near it.
He ran his thumb over the mark.
It still hurt. He could have gone after her.
He didn't. For once, Aryav let her close the door without following.
Aryav had never been good at letting things go.
In his world, if something mattered, he made sure no one could take it from him. He solved problems before they became problems. He made decisions and expected people to follow them.
That was how he had lived for years.
Aadhira had never followed that rule.
With her, none of it seemed to work.
He could put guards outside every door in the house. He could make sure no one came near her without his permission.
None of that would make her forgive him.
And he was beginning to understand that those were two very different things.
Waiting had never been something Aryav had needed to do.
He couldn't make her choose him.
If she ever came back to him properly, it would have to be because she wanted to.
Aryav looked once toward the house.
Her bedroom light was still off.
He knew she was probably awake. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't fall asleep after what had happened.
Aadhira needed space.
Maybe that was the one thing he could give her.
.
.
.
The morning light in Aryav's study hit the desk in sharp, cold angles, illuminating dust motes floating in the air.
On the left corner of the blotter, his second phone buzzed once-a short, encrypted text regarding a late-night dock shipment-before settling into stillness.
He didn't pick it up. He signed the bottom of a shipping ledger, his fountain pen strokes steady and unhurried.
The door opened without a knock.
Reyansh slipped inside, leaning his back against the carved frame.
"Morning, bhai."
Aryav didn't look up. "What do you want?"
"Money."
"No."
Reyansh stepped inside, a faint grin on his face. "You didn't even ask how much."
"It won't improve the answer."
Reyansh pulled out a leather armchair, the solid brass-capped legs scraping softly against the floor.
He sat down, leaning his forearms on the polished dark wood of the desk, unbothered by his brother's icy greeting. "I need ten lakh."
Aryav flipped a page calmly, his tone completely flat. "No."
"It's an investment."
"In what?"
"Something highly profitable."
"Name it."
"I haven't fully decided on the exact venture yet," Reyansh said, flashing a quick, charming grin that usually worked on everyone else in the house. "Options are wide open."
Aryav didn't miss a single beat. "Then you don't need ten lakh. No."
"Five?"
Aryav turned another page, the paper rustling softly in the dead quiet of the study.
"Three?"
Silence.
"One?"
Aryav stopped, and raised his eyes.
He fixed an gaze on his younger brother, letting the silence stretch until Reyansh shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're painful to talk to today," Reyansh muttered, breaking first. "Is it because Bhabhi is sleeping in the guest room?"
Absolute stillness settled over the desk. Aryav's hand stopped.
He remained looking down at the ledger, his gaze lingering on a single column of figures he had already reviewed twice.
When he pressed the nib back to the paper, the ink pooled slightly, leaving a single dark mark on the clean page.
"Leave, Reyansh."
"I haven't said my piece."
"You have five seconds."
Reyansh watched him carefully.
"You haven't gone after her. She hasn't spoken to you in two days."
Aryav capped his pen and set it down beside the blotter. He raised his eyes to his younger brother, his jaw set into a hard line.
"She asked for space," Aryav said quietly.
"She didn't say that."
"She didn't have to."
Reyansh shifted in his seat. The light air between them evaporated.
"Ten lakh says I can get Bhabhi out of that room tonight. She moves back into your."
Aryav's eyes narrowed. "How?"
"That's my problem."
"No."
"Bhai-"
"If she comes back to my room," Aryav said, his voice dropping into a low intensity, "it will be because she chose to."
Reyansh studied him for a long moment. The finality in Aryav's posture left no room for argument.
"So I can't interfere?"
"You don't get to decide where my wife sleeps."
Reyansh nodded slowly, his expression sobering. "Fine. But..."
Aryav picked up his pen again. "But?"
Reyansh leaned back.
"I just want her to remember something."
"What?"
"That she doesn't have to prove she's strong by being alone."
Aryav held his brother's gaze for a beat. He said nothing.
"If she is distressed because of anything that happens under this roof," Aryav said, returning to the page, "the money won't be the thing you lose."
Reyansh swallowed, his throat dry. He gave a single nod. "Understood."
"Leave."
The heavy door clicked shut behind Reyansh.
Aryav stared at the ledger. He turned his head slowly toward the closed door.
Two days.
Downstairs in the family room, the cousins were gathered near the wide glass table.
"You're out of your mind," Tara whispered, her arms folded tightly as Reyansh walked down the stairs.
"You can't trick her into bhai's room."
"Nobody is tricking anyone," Reyansh said, keeping his eyes on the hallway.
"She'd freeze before asking for a blanket if she thought it meant giving up her pride."
Tara frowned. "So what are you going to do?"
Reyansh glanced toward the darkened guest wing. "Nothing. I'm giving her the chance to decide for herself."
He walked past her toward the kitchen, leaving the conversation hanging in the air.
In the guest room, Aadhira had been awake for nearly half an hour.
She lay on her back, staring at the unfamiliar molding on the ceiling. The guest wing carried a different acoustic profile than master suit-flatter, lacking the subtle creak of heavy floorboards or the low hum of his desk equipment.
She had tried reading. She had tried sleeping.
Eventually, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, the silence pushing her out of the room.
She changed into a loose shirt, pinned her hair casually away from her face, and walked downstairs.
The family room was already humming with quiet morning activity.
"There she is," Arush said, shifting on the sofa to clear a spot.
"Sit down. We were just arguing over what to order for lunch."
Aadhira smiled faintly and sat on the edge of the cushion.
"Whatever you want is fine."
"That's not an answer," Tara said, looking up from her tablet.
"Pick a side. Chinese or North Indian."
"North Indian," Aadhira said, tucking her hands into her shirt sleeves.
She stayed on the sofa as the morning wore on.
The cousins talked around her-Arush recounting a failed business deal, Tara complaining about a client, Reyansh dropping in occasionally with dry commentary.
Aadhira listened, laughing once at Arush's terrible imitation of their uncle, but a part of her remained detached, tracking the subtle shifts of the house.
Lunch came and went. The servants cleared the glass table, leaving a tray of green tea behind.
By three in the afternoon, someone suggested a movie. Arush drew the heavy drapes across the tall windows, plunging the wide room into twilight.
A low orchestral score echoed softly through the surround-sound speakers.
The horror movie had been playing for nearly forty minutes before Aadhira realized she had no idea what was happening on the screen.
Arush let out a short laugh at a line of dialogue. Tara tossed a velvet cushion at his head.
Aadhira smiled automatically, her eyes fixed on the screen, but when heavy, measured footsteps echoed in the corridor past the foyer, her head snapped toward the archway before she could catch herself.
The man who stepped into view wore a black security uniform, carrying a tablet against his chest.
Aadhira watched him pass, her gaze trailing his outline until he disappeared down the service hall.
She looked back at the television. She couldn't remember what the main character had said three seconds ago.
Near the far wall, a dim accent lamp flickered twice, its filament buzzing softly before going out.
Aadhira's posture stiffened. Arush stood up to grab a water bottle, paused near the corridor, glanced at Reyansh, and took the longer route around the living room sofa instead.
Aadhira watched his detour, a subtle knot forming in her chest.
By four o'clock, she stood up and walked down the side hallway toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
As she passed the lower study, she spotted one of Aryav's personal security detail stationed near the perimeter monitors.
She slowed her pace. She looked at the closed door of the lower study, then back to the guard.
"Is Mr. Singhania-"
She stopped.
The guard straightened instantly. "Ma'am?"
Aadhira closed her mouth. She took half a step back. "Never mind."
"He's in the upper study, ma'am," the guard offered, his voice respectful.
"He hasn't left since morning."
Aadhira caught herself, her expression locking down into a quiet mask.
"I wasn't asking."
She turned and walked away. Three steps down the carpeted hallway, she realized she was holding her breath.
Sometime after eight, Ayaan wandered into the guest room, sleepy and dragging his stuffed bear by its ear along the floorboards.
"Mama?"
Aadhira set her phone down on the nightstand and opened her arms. He climbed into her lap, burying his warm face into the crook of her neck.
She wrapped her arms tightly around him, resting her chin against his soft hair.
"Why are you in this bed?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
"I'm staying here tonight," she whispered.
Ayaan turned his head, his small fingers tangling in the knit of her sweater. "Where's Papa?"
Aadhira's fingers slowed against his back.
She could have said upstairs. She could have said in his room. She stared at the dim wall lamp across the room, feeling the silence press into the space between them.
"He's working, sweetheart," she said softly.