CHAPTER 28
AARAV
Something is wrong with Anika. I can sense it.
She’s been so silent these past few days, and that’s so unlike her.
Normally, she’s this stubborn, wildcat of a woman who has something to say about everything—even if it’s just to annoy me.
But now... it’s like someone snuffed out her spark.
I’ve tried asking her what’s wrong, I really have, but every time I bring it up, she just gets angrier and more withdrawn.
It’s frustrating as hell to stand here, helpless, knowing she’s hurting and not letting me in.
I loosen my tie as I walk toward our room, exhaustion dragging at my steps after the mess of a day I had.
Half my team turned out to be incompetent idiots, and now that I’ve fired a bunch of them, I have the lovely task of interviewing new ones.
And God, it’s such a headache. No one impresses me anymore.
I sigh under my breath. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day, and the thought of it already makes my head hurt.
I open the door slowly, careful not to wake her up.
These days, we’ve been sleeping on the same bed.
.. not exactly how we planned it, but somehow, no matter how much she tries to act like she hates it, she always ends up in my arms by morning.
And then she tries to sneak away, thinking I’m asleep.
It’s honestly the best part of my day, feeling her tucked against me, even if she pretends otherwise.
I shake my head, a soft smile tugging at my lips.
But as I step inside, something feels off again.
I notice her sitting on the bed, lost in thought, her gaze fixed on something across the room.
I follow her line of sight—and frown. There’s a bouquet of flowers on the dressing table.
It's beautiful, too—roses, lilies, a bit too... perfect. There’s a small card tucked into the arrangement, but from where I stand, it looks blank.
I walk toward her cautiously, not wanting to spook her. "Are those flowers for me?" I tease lightly, trying to pull a smile out of her. Her head snaps up at my voice, eyes wide, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
"What? Oh, uhh—" She stammers, flustered, glancing between me and the bouquet like she’s trying to come up with a good excuse. There's a sadness in her eyes, though, one that makes my heart clench.
"No, they’re not for you," she mumbles eventually, voice barely above a whisper.
I keep my expression neutral even though my stomach twists. "Who are the flowers from then?" I ask, watching her closely.
She looks up, face shuttered. “It’s nothing,” she says, tone flat and emotionless, like she’s trying to shut the whole thing down. And maybe someone else would let it go, but not me. Especially not when she’s clearly upset.
I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. "Who sent them, Anika?" I repeat, my words—sharp and firm. I’m not backing off, not this time. I know I should keep my jealousy in check, but my mind can’t help racing.
These flowers—they don’t feel like a gift from someone she’s happy to hear from.
No, her whole body is practically screaming in discomfort.
“Anika, please. Just tell me who sent them," I ask again, this time softer. "Or at least tell me what's bothering you."
She bites her lip, brows furrowing like she’s struggling with herself. Then, out of nowhere, she stands up, tension radiating from every inch of her body. “I told you, it’s nothing! Why do you care so much?”
I blink, thrown off by how defensive she’s gotten. She’s usually stubborn, sure, but this... this feels like something more. Something deeper.
“I care because you're clearly upset, and I want to help," I say, my own irritation starting to bleed through. "Why won’t you let me in, Anika?"
She clenches her fists, jaw tight. “Because you can’t help with this, Aarav! This is something I have to deal with on my own!”
And just like that, my patience snaps. “But you don’t have to do it alone!" I fire back, stepping closer. "I’m your husband, Anika. You’re not supposed to carry everything on your shoulders by yourself anymore.”
She flinches like I’ve hit a nerve, taking a step back. And in that moment, I catch it—the flicker of fear, the vulnerability she’s desperately trying to hide. "You wouldn't understand," she says, voice cracking ever so slightly.
"Try me," I say, softer now, almost begging her to just let me in. For a second, it looks like she might. Her eyes dart to mine, full of something that looks dangerously close to trust. But then she looks away, walls slamming back up with a finality that makes my chest ache.
"Just drop it, Aarav. Please."
I clench my fists at my sides, swallowing the frustration that's burning my throat. "Fine," I say after a beat, my voice low. "But I’m not letting this go completely. I can tell those flowers didn’t make you happy. Whoever sent them… upset you. And I need to know who it is."
She turns away, hiding her face from me. "It doesn’t matter," she whispers.
The hell it doesn’t. Every instinct in me is screaming to find out who did this—who dared to put that broken look in her eyes. I step closer again, lowering my voice. "It matters to me. It matters because it’s affecting you, and if someone’s hurting you, Anika, I swear to God—"
Before I can finish, she whirls around, her eyes blazing with anger and something else... fear, maybe desperation. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?! Not everything is your business, Aarav!”
I suck in a breath, trying to keep my temper from flaring. “When it’s about you, it is my business. You're my wife. I can't stand here and watch you suffer and pretend like it’s none of my concern.”
She stares at me for a long, heavy moment. And slowly... slowly, I see her anger start to crack. Her expression softens, and tears well up in her eyes, clinging to her lashes stubbornly. "Please, Aarav," she whispers, voice trembling. "Please just leave it be."
My heart shatters at the way she says it. She’s not fighting me anymore—she’s pleading. My Anika. My fierce, stubborn Anika. Pleading. I panic. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard. I want to push. I want to demand answers. But the look on her face stops me.
I reach out, brushing my fingers lightly against her arm. "Okay," I say quietly. "Okay, I won’t ask again. But you have to promise me something."
She hesitates, wiping at her eyes roughly before looking up at me. "What?"
"Promise me you’ll talk to me when you're ready. No more bottling it all inside."
She closes her eyes for a second like she’s weighing the promise, like it’s costing her something. And then she nods, slow and tired. “I promise. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
I study her for a moment longer, making sure she’s not just saying it to shut me up. She looks so small right now, so fragile. And it kills me that I can't protect her from whatever this is.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, waiting for her to shove me away like she usually does. But she doesn’t. She stands frozen for a moment, then, slowly, she melts into me. She sags against my chest like she’s finally letting herself fall apart, and I tighten my hold around her.
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent, feeling her arms wrap tightly around my waist like she’s scared to let go.
My hand strokes her hair gently, the other resting at the small of her back, holding her as close as humanly possible.
She fits against me so perfectly, like she always was meant to be here.
Like maybe, even if she doesn’t say it yet, she knows she’s safe here. With me.
I close my eyes, tightening my arms around her.
It’s okay, Anu. Whatever it is, whoever it is—I’ll find out. And when I do, I swear, I'll put an end to it. Because no one gets to hurt you. Not while I'm here. Not ever.