Chapter 64 - 3
Her throat ran dry as she scrolled through them. Headlines popped up-some subtle, others ruthless.
"Trouble in Paradise? Rathore Bahu Seen on Intimate Café Outing with Mystery Man."
"Is Abhimanyu Rathore Headed for Divorce? Sources Say the Split is Real."
"Rathore Bahu Moves On? Seen Cozy with Another After Minister Murder Scandal."
"From Courtrooms to Cafés: Aarushi Rathore's Public Love Life Raises Eyebrows."
"Second Man in Months-Social Media Erupts Over Rathore Family's Daughter-in-Law."
Aarushi's chest tightened as her eyes flicked through the comment sections.
"So this is why rich people don't stay married-too many options, no commitment."
"Shameless. One day it's one guy, next day another."
"Didn't her husband stand by her through the case? I thought they are still together"
"Characterless. She's always in the news for the wrong reasons."
"No wonder Abhimanyu Rathore wants to divorce her. Look at her behavior."
It felt like knives-each word sharper than the last, slicing through her spirit. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled, her heart thudding in her chest.
The whole thing was twisted and false... but the world didn't wait for explanations. It devoured what it saw.
People had already made up their minds.
Just then, her phone rang again, the screen flashing with Abhimanyu's name.
She stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. Her entire body went still for a second. She composed herself and answered the call.
There was a pause.
Then his voice, deep and soft. "Jaan..."
She hummed in reply, not trusting her voice. Her throat was tight, raw.
"Did you reach home?" he asked, cautiously, almost like he was testing the waters.
Aarushi forced her voice to remain calm. "Yes... just freshened up," she said, keeping it light. She didn't want to sound shaken.
"How was your day?" Abhimanyu asked again.
She swallowed. "Good... it was good."
But her eyes betrayed her, still locked onto her phone screen as more notifications poured in-more tags, more headlines, more assumptions, as she go through more comments and headlines.
Just then, her phone buzzed with another incoming call.
Rohan.
Aarushi sighed softly. "I'll talk to you later... Rohan is calling me," she said gently.
There was a pause.
"Okay..." came Abhimanyu's faint reply.
"She already knows about them." He sighed and said after ending the call.
His words cut through the stillness like glass breaking.
Rudra sighed at his response, "Of course, they are blowing up everywhere in the media. She must have seen them by now."
The bitter taste of reality settled in his mouth. Abhimanyu turned toward his new PA-young, nervous, attentive.
"Get those articles down immediately. Every single one," Abhimanyu commanded, sharp as steel. "Contact the platforms, the press... I want them erased. And find out who took those pictures-every source, every leak. I want the man behind that lens."
"Yes, sir," the PA nodded and dashed out of the room.
Abhimanyu reached for his coat, the wool brushing against his fingers as he pulled it on. His mind was already a thousand miles away, no longer present in this room.
"You're leaving?" Rudra asked, arms folded, brows drawn.
Abhimanyu adjusted his collar, his eyes dark with emotion. "She sounded so upset," he exhaled harshly. "I need to go home."
Without waiting for a reply, he walked out, long strides purposeful, his mind spinning with images of Aarushi-hoe bad she must've felt seeing those headlines... those cruel words.
Down in the parking lot, he slipped into his car, started the engine, and just as he gripped the steering wheel, his phone lit up.
Vivaan.
He swiped the call open.
"Bhai..." Vivaan's voice was tense, hurried. "Did you see those articles? They're everywhere."
Abhimanyu's jaw clenched, the muscle twitching. "Yes. I'm heading home. I've already spoken to the team. They'll take them down."
Vivaan paused, clearly unsettled. "Okay... Bade Papa asked me to call. He's worried"
Abhimanyu replied "Tell him not to worry. I'll take care of it."
"Okay, Bhai," Vivaan said, though his tone still held concern before the line disconnected.
Abhimanyu drove fastly in silence, the city's rush slipping by outside the tinted windows. But inside him, nothing was still.
His thoughts were on her-her silence, her eyes, the tremor in her voice when she last spoke about not wanting to be dragged into media messes. And now this.
As he pulled into the gates of mansion.He didn't wait for a valet. He slammed the car door shut and went inside.
He took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the corridor, he slowed. Everything felt too quiet.
Then he reached their bedroom door.
Locked.
He tried the handle once. Twice.
"Baby" His voice lowered, tender. He knocked softly "Open the door."
Inside, Aarushi sat on the bed-knees pulled to her chest, phone trembling in her hands. Her eyes scanned yet another harsh comment:
"She's no match for a Rathore."
"Maybe she was cheating all along."
"She looks too comfortable in those photos."
Each word sliced through her like ice. She felt raw. Humiliated. Angry.
His voice at the door startled her.
She quickly turned off the phone and took some deep breaths....
Then, she walked slowly to the door. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked it and opened it just enough to see his face.
"You came home early," she said, stepping aside.
He entered without hesitation, slipping off his coat and placing it on the couch.
His eyes found her immediately-red-rimmed lashes, puffy eyes, a tight grip on her composure.
"I was missing my wife," he said gently, almost with a smile.
She smiled faintly, barely. "I'll get water."
She turned to go, grateful for an excuse to escape his gaze.
But his hand caught her wrist-firm, yet gentle. She stilled.
He reached behind her and quietly closed the door.
Then he stepped in front of her and so close that she could feel the warmth of him, the tension in his shoulders. One arm slid around her waist, drawing her into him.
Her hands instinctively rested against his chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat was steady, strong.
"I already had downstairs," he murmured.
"Oh... then I'll go get something to eat-"
"No need." He leaned in slightly,his eyes searched hers.
She looked away.
He tilted his head, following her gaze, locking eyes again.
Again, she looked down.
He gently turned her to face him, lifting her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.
A soft silence passed between them, but it said more than any words. He could see it-clear as day.
The way she was struggling not to break. The way her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt too tightly. The way her lashes trembled.
"Baby....." he whispered.
She inhaled sharply.
Her lip trembled. "Okay, fine..." Her voice cracked, and her gaze finally locked with his. "Yes, I saw them."
There it was . The crack in her composure. Her eyes brimmed with emotion she had been trying to bury since morning.
"I didn't know what hurt more," she added, voice low and raw, "The pictures... or the way people talked about me. About us."
Abhimanyu's hand moved to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin like he could erase every cruel word she had read.
"I know," he said softly, his throat tight.
"They're saying I only married you for money... that I'm trying to gain power through your name. That I planned all this" she whispered.
"Some are even dragging my school, my job... saying I'm not fit to be anyone's role model"
There were no sobs. No breakdown. Just a single tear rolling silently down her cheek, followed by another-each one a silent protest against the cruelty she never asked for.
"I didn't sign up for this limelight, Abhi. I didn't want my name whispered in salons or debated online. I never wanted to be the reason people gossiped."
Before she could say more, Abhimanyu wrapped his arms around her with quiet urgency. He simply pulled her in-protective, grounding, warm.
Her face buried in his chest, and her voice cracked, softer now. "I don't want to feel like I have to prove my worth to people who don't even know me..."
"I know," he said, his hand gently moving up and down her back. "I know, baby. And you shouldn't have to."
He pulled back just enough to cup her face, brushing his thumbs under her eyes.
"You're not wrong," he said, steady and sure.
Aarushi closed her eyes, trying to hold it together.
"Listen to me," he said, gently lifting her chin. "Those people... the ones who hide behind comments and whisper in corners-they don't know you. They don't know how fiercely you love, how quietly you give, how hard you work every single day. They see the surface."
She looked up at him, eyes soft but filled with storm.
"And you know what?" he added. "Now they know you're my wife. That comes with a spotlight. People will watch. Some will admire. Some will judge. But you don't have to carry that weight."
"I'll carry it with you. And when I can, I'll carry it for you."
Aarushi's lips parted slightly at the gentleness of his words. He wiped the last trace of her tears with his thumbs.
"I apologize, but I will do my best to keep that spotlight away as much as possible," he promised..
She let out a breath that shook a little and leaned into his touch.
"It's not your fault. I understand that things have changed now, but I just want to feel normal again" she whispered.
"You will," he said. "Because you're still you. Even if the world around you changes, that girl who laughs at bad jokes and fights with me over the last spoonful of dessert is still here. I see her every day."
A small, broken laugh escaped her lips, and he smiled, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
"No more tears, okay?" he murmured. "I am looking into this matter. You just be yourself. You don't need to feel restricted or anything else, just be careful for your own safety. We can't trust anyone nowadays. That's more than enough."
Aarushi nodded, a little steadier now.
"Now..." Abhimanyu tilted his head, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "How about I cook something for you? Your favorite dish, made by your very own five-star chef husband? Or we could go out to change the mood."
She smiled and thought for a second and said "How about something better?" He raised a brow.
"How about we cook together? I would pass on any outing for that" she offered, smiling.
He grinned, something soft lighting in his chest. "Deal. I'll freshen up first. Give me ten minutes."
"Okay," she said, smiling as she kissed on his cheeks
"I'll go downstairs " Aarushi added. "Come there when you're ready."
"Okay," he replied, watching her walk out.
When the door shut behind her, the room fell silent again. But this time, it was different. The weight had lifted.
Abhimanyu walked over to the couch and sat down, still lost in the remnants of their conversation.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his gallery. Photos flicked past his screen-business meetings, event pictures, scanned documents-until the rhythm slowed.
There she was.
Aarushi, in a deep maroon saree, standing near the garden, sunlight woven through her hair.
Another one-laughing while trying to open a stubborn jar.
Then a selfie-him back-hugging her, face tucked into her neck, while she smiled softly into the camera.
He stopped at that one.
He selected a few pictures-her candid grace, her smile, her warmth. Then he opened his nearly empty social media account.
Two posts from months ago. Both business launches.
He added these new pictures and wrote a caption.
The most graceful woman I've ever known is my wife, and I feel incredibly lucky to have her in my life.
He clicked "Post," and that was enough to silence everyone and put an end to the rumors.
The doorbell rang sharply through the silent house, breaking the stillness like a slap.
Inside, there was no movement at first. Just silence. The bell rang again-longer this time, more insistent. Footsteps shuffled behind the wooden door, hesitant, and then it creaked open just an inch.
Meera stood there, eyes dull, dark circles etched deep beneath them.
She blinked at the sight of Samaira, who crossed her arms and arched an unimpressed brow.
"What are you doing here?" Meera asked, her voice scratchy like it hadn't been used much lately.
Samaira didn't wait for an invitation. She stepped inside, brushing past her. "You were ignoring my calls, my texts... So I had no choice. This was the only way you'd face me."
Meera sighed, already tired of this conversation. She closed the door behind them with a soft click. "I wasn't ignoring you."
Samaira plopped down on the sofa, her frustration evident. "Oh, really? Because it looks like you've been doing exactly that."
She moved and poured a glass of water and handed it to Samaira, then sank beside her, eyes unfocused.
Samaira took a small sip, placed the glass down, and turned to her friend with a hardened stare.
"Can we talk like mature adults now? Instead of you pretending I don't exist?"
Meera didn't answer immediately. Her shoulders curled inward, as if shrinking from the confrontation. "Talk about what?" she asked quietly.
Samaira's jaw tightened. "You know what."
"I'm not in the mood," Meera muttered, starting to rise, but Samaira grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.
"It's been over two days, Meera," she said, voice raised now, edged with worry and anger. "Since that night. Since you got drunk at the party and pulled that... ridiculous, reckless stunt. And after that, you've just disappeared on me."
Meera looked away, blinking rapidly. "I needed space."
Samaira shook her head. "No. What you need is a reality check."
Silence stretched for a moment. Meera didn't reply.
Samaira leaned closer, frustration evident in her furrowed brows.
"Meera, listen. You know what's good for you. So why are you doing this?"
Meera's voice finally broke through the stillness, barely above a whisper. "And you also know that I had feelings for him."
Samaira closed her eyes and exhaled. "Meera, that was during college. That was years ago. It was just a crush. Infatuation."
"It wasn't just that," Meera snapped, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
"Not for me. You know how I felt about him.
I... I loved him, Samaira. I just never had the courage to say it.
I kept telling myself - 'not now, focus on your career first, build something of your own.
' I thought one day... maybe one day we'd meet again and-"
"But he got married, Meera."
"I know," she choked, "I know. And I thought it was over too. But the moment I saw him again, Samaira... every feeling I thought I buried just exploded. He looked at me, and I felt everything. Everything I tried to forget."
"But still it doesn't change reality." Samaira's voice was gentle but firm. "He's married. To Aarushi. That's the truth. A bitter one, yes. But one you have to face.You cannot keep holding on to this fantasy."
"So what about my feelings?" Meera whispered, voice trembling. "What about my love? Does that mean nothing?"
"It matters," Samaira said. "But it doesn't justify anything you're doing now. Meera, he's not yours. You can't destroy someone else's relationship to heal your own heartbreak."
"And how am I destroying anything?" Meera's voice rose, a mix of hurt and anger in her tone. "They're not even together. "
"Aarushi left him. He's alone. She hasn't returned until now; isn't it obvious that they're going to separate? What have I done that's so wrong?"
Samaira's expression changed. Sharp now. Suspicious.
"Are you seriously asking me that? You know what I'm talking about. The paparazzi leak - the article with those vague headlines, false assumptions about Aarushi,The one that led to that disgusting article about Aarushi?"
Meera stiffened. "What... what are you implying?"
Samaira didn't blink. "I think you tipped them off. Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong."
"Meera," Samaira said, her voice breaking with disappointment. "Don't lie to me. Yes or no "
Meera stood up suddenly, fists clenched. "Yes! Fine.. I did it. I told them. Because she left him. She's gone. I didn't write lies. They aren't together"
Samaira stood too now, furious."Are you stupid.What do you think this will do? You're defaming Aarushi. Creating misunderstandings...And for what? Love? "
"This isn't love, Meera And you know how much he loves her. You told me yourself. You're acting like a teenager with a crush instead of the woman you are."
Meera's eyes glistened. "But they're not together now. She left. She didn't come back till now. What does that say?"
"Who told you they're not coming back together?" Samaira spat, grabbing her phone. "Did you see his post?"
She opened Abhimanyu's Instagram and thrust the screen in front of Meera.
Meera looked.
The photos include Aarushi: one candid in a saree, another of him hugging her from behind, one of her on the balcony, and another of them holding hands-about four photos in total.
Samaira softened just a little. "You see that? You're trying to wedge yourself into a space that doesn't belong to you."
Meera's voice broke. "I love him, Samaira. I loved him long before she even knew him. I- I knew him first, so much before she even knew he existed."
"And yet she has him because it's her destiny. He was not your destiny, Meera. You can't have something that was never written in your fate," Samaira said.
Meera released a shuddering breath, and the tears flowed freely now.
"I don't understand... I don't. Why her? Why not me?"
Samaira stepped forward, pulling her into a hug.
"Because that's not how love works," she whispered. "It doesn't care about who came first. Or who deserves more. It just... happens. And his heart belongs to her."
Meera clung to her, sobbing....
"It hurts so much, Samaira. So bad ...I never wanted to feel this way. I didn't want to hate her, but every time I see her face, I'm reminded of what I could never be and what I could never have."
"I know," Samaira murmured, stroking her back. "But please, Meera... don't lose yourself to this pain. You're not the kind of woman who breaks someone else to build herself. Remember your morals. Your dignity."
Meera pulled away, her face streaked with tears. "I don't know who I am anymore."
"You're Meera," Samaira said softly. "Strong, smart, independent Meera and now has to find a way to let him go. Even if it breaks her."
Meera looked down, defeated. A long silence passed between them before she finally whispered, "Will it ever stop hurting?"
Samaira smiled sadly. "Not today, and not tomorrow. But one day... yes, one day, you'll wake up, and he won't be the first thing on your mind. You will find someone-the one who is meant for you. With time, you will understand."
Meera sobbed in her arms. Samaira held her tighter, providing emotional support....
The kitchen smelled of ghee, garlic, and something unmistakably home.
Aarushi stood near the counter, hands busy rolling soft missi rotis, her bangles clinking gently as she worked.
Beside her, Abhimanyu stirred the bubbling gatte ki sabzi's gravy , sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the steam and heat.
He watched her from the corner of his eye, noticing the way a strand of hair kept falling across her cheek.
She blew it away with a tiny huff, focused on her dough like it owed her money.
Abhimanyu leaned closer and muttered, "If you keep looking this hot while cooking, I might just burn everything on purpose so we can do this again tomorrow."
Aarushi didn't even glance at him. "If you burn anything, I'll make you wash the utensils. With lemon and no gloves."
He chuckled, clearly unbothered, and picked up a peeled carrot from the side, biting into it casually. "Worth it. Especially if you're going to boss me around in that apron."
She paused, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good. You're finally understanding who the real boss is."
He stepped closer behind her, brushing his hand along her back as he reached for the masala tin. "Bosses usually don't roll roti this slow, sweetheart "
She turned slightly, eyebrow raised. "You want faster rotis or round ones?"
"Neither," he murmured. "I just want to keep watching you pretend to ignore me."
Aarushi narrowed her eyes at him, but the heat in her cheeks had little to do with the stove. "If you want attention, try not flirting while holding a knife. It's dangerous-for you."
He smirked and leaned just close enough that only she could hear, voice dripping low and cocky, "Danger's my middle name, Mrs. Rathore."
She muttered under her breath, "More like Drama is your middle name."
Abhimanyu grinned like he'd won a bet.
At the other counter, Aaryan was unsuccessfully trying to peel potatoes without slicing his thumb off, and Navya was stuffing the dishwasher, pretending not to hear a thing. But their stolen glances said otherwise.
Abhimanyu returned to his pan, tossing the gravy with expert ease.
Aarushi followed a second later, stealing a piece of fried gatta from the plate beside him.
He caught her wrist mid-motion. "Ask nicely."
She didn't listen; she just opened her mouth, waiting for the piece.
He shook his head and picked up the gatta piece and held it to her lips. "Careful, it's hot."
Aarushi leaned in, her eyes locked on his. "And if I burn my tongue?"
Abhimanyu smirked. "Then I'll have to kiss it better."
Before she could sass back, she took the bite-still staring at him-and tried to hide her smile.
Just then, Aaryan groaned dramatically from behind the counter. "Can you two stop being a Bhagyashree-Salman scene from some Rajshri film? Some of us are single and hungry"
Navya chimed in, laughing, "Seriously,Romance ke aloo-mutter baad mein daalna. Finish the roti first"
Abhimanyu chuckled and leaned in closer, whispering, "They're just jealous."
Aarushi's cheeks flushed as she turned back to the stove, muttering, "Focus on the food, Mr. Rathore."