52. TRUST
DIYA
The phone vibrates in my hand, breaking the quiet of our bedroom before the sun has even fully risen.
Papa.
The moment I press it to my ear, my chest tightens.
He doesn't even bother greeting me.
"I need that textile deal approved by the ministry board before Friday, Diya," he snaps.
His voice is cold, sharp, and full of the same bitterness I've heard all my life.
"Stop acting like some helpless little girl.
You're nothing but a burden with patchy skin who got lucky enough to marry into a royal family.
If you can't use your position to keep your husband under control, then you're useless to me.
Do your job. Manipulate him before he realizes what a mistake he made bringing someone like you into his palace. "
My throat closes. A sob burns behind my lips, but before I can say a single word, the phone is suddenly pulled out of my hand.
I gasp.
My heart drops.
Veeraj is standing beside the bed.
He's still in his white shirt, his hair slightly messy from sleep, but there isn't a trace of softness on his face anymore.
My stomach twists.
Oh God . . .He heard everything.
My breath trembles and my palms sweat. He's going to think I planned this. He's going to think Papa and I are working together. He's going to think this marriage was just a way to influence his ministry.
"Veeraj . . . " I rush out, grabbing his arm. "Please . . . it's not what it sounds like. I swear I didn't ask him to call. I don't want any of this. Please believe me—"
The words die the moment I look at him.
The playful husband who teased me over soup and laughed with children at the NGO is gone.
The man standing in front of me is terrifying. His jaw is locked so tightly that the muscles twitch. His eyes are cold. Dangerously cold. Without looking at me, he lifts the phone to his ear. His entire body is still, but the anger rolling off him fills the room.
"Listen to me very carefully," Veeraj says, his voice low and steady.
"If you ever speak to my wife like that again .
. . if you ever threaten her or try to use her for your own greed .
. . " He pauses. The silence is somehow even more frightening.
"I'll personally make sure your company doesn't survive the week. "
His voice never rises. "If I have to, I'll freeze every asset you own, shut down every business connected to your name, and leave you with nothing."
Another pause. "And if you ever call this number again just to disturb her peace . . . " His eyes harden. "You'll learn exactly where my patience ends."
He disconnects the call. Without another word, he tosses the phone onto the armchair across the room.
The harshness disappears almost instantly when he turns toward me. His eyes soften. His anger isn't for me. It never was.
Before I can even move, he steps forward and wraps both arms tightly around me. He pulls me against his chest so firmly that I can hear the steady beat of his heart. One hand slides into my hair while the other holds my waist securely.
He kisses the top of my head.
"Don't listen to a single word that man says," he whispers. His voice is gentle now. Certain. "You are not a burden, Diya. You are not responsible for his greed."
He tilts my face up until I'm looking at him. "You are my wife." He smiles gently, "The woman I love."
He rests his forehead against mine, "I don't care about ministry deals. I don't care about business . . . I care about you." His thumb gently wipes away the tears on my cheek. "You are the most beautiful part of my life. And I'll stand between you and anyone who tries to make you feel otherwise."
The words break something inside me.
Not in a painful way. In the way sunlight breaks through after years of darkness. The tears keep falling, but this time they aren't from shame. They're from relief.
From knowing someone chooses me. Someone Protects me. Loves me.
I don't want to talk anymore. I don't want to joke. I don't want even an inch of distance between us.
I reach up and bury my fingers in his hair before pulling him down to me.
Our lips meet in a desperate kiss.
One filled with relief.
Fear.
Love.
He exhales softly against my mouth before kissing me back just as deeply. His arms tighten around my waist, holding me close as if he's afraid to ever let go.
I melt into him, my forehead resting against his when we finally pull apart.
"Take me to bed, Veeraj." I rasp, His hand remains around my waist while mine stays over his heart, feeling its unsteady rhythm beneath my palm.
"Are you sure, Trouble?" He groans and all I can do is nod.