Chapter Thirty Seven
Ria's POV;
The whole day passed in a blur - a blur of stainless-steel pots, simmering spices, and the weight of my own thoughts pressing down on my chest. I spent nearly the entire day in the kitchen, preparing Aansh's lunch exactly as the doctor said, arranging the medicines beside the plate, checking the temperature twice, then sending it up through a servant because I simply. .. couldn't.
Not after what happened in the morning.
Not after the way I left the room.
Not after the way he looked at me like I was something he didn't want to bother touching.
My hands had trembled when I placed the tray onto the counter, but I told myself to breathe, breathe, breathe.
By evening, I couldn't stay inside the mansion anymore. I felt trapped - by the walls, by my thoughts, by the marriage I didn't choose. So I went to the garden, hoping the open sky would give me the space I needed to keep myself together.
The Rathore villa's garden was enormous, but even in all that space, my chest felt tight.
I sat on a cold stone bench tucked between rosebushes and opened my favorite novel.
I read the same line repeatedly, not absorbing a single word.
My eyes scanned pages, but my mind stayed stuck in that room, on that bed, on his voice - sharp, cold, heavy with words that clung to my heart like ice.
By the time reality finally tugged me back, night had already fallen.
The sky was dark, the garden empty, and a cold wind swept over me. I shivered and wrapped my dupatta tightly around myself, but it didn't help. The cold outside didn't compare to the cold I felt within.
I stood, clutching the novel against my chest, and walked back inside.
My feet felt heavy, but I still went to the kitchen. I prepared turmeric milk for Aansh - because regardless of how he treated me, I cared. Not because I wanted anything from him, but because I couldn't bring myself not to.
A person didn't stop being human just because the person standing in front of them refused to be.
With the tray in my hands, I walked upstairs.
My heartbeat grew louder and louder the closer I got to the room.
I stopped at the doorway.
I stood there for a full minute, frozen, the tray trembling just slightly. I didn't know what I was scared of more - Aansh's harshness, or... the way my body reacted whenever he was near. The way his presence made me feel things I didn't want to feel.
My chest rose and fell too quickly.
I took a deep breath.
And stepped in.
He was there - sitting against the headboard, the soft glow of his computer screen illuminating the hard angles of his face. His expression was unreadable, focused, distant. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, and even exhausted, he looked impossibly composed.
I hated how beautiful he was.
I hated that my eyes noticed.
I hated that my heart reacted before my brain could stop it.
My gaze drifted - unintentionally - across his torso, and heat crawled into my cheeks. I tore my eyes away, embarrassed at myself.
I walked softly to the side table and placed the tray down. He didn't look up.
Not even once.
His eyes stayed glued to the laptop.
As if I wasn't even there.
As if my presence was nothing.
As if I was a ghost.
Something inside me tightened painfully.
"God... what's happening to me?" I whispered under my breath, ashamed at the way he affected me.
I walked to the closet and pulled out a simple black kurti with matching trousers - the kind of clothes I knew was comfortable for sleeping, soft and covering me properly and wouldn't make me feel exposed under his gaze.
Then I slipped into the bathroom.
The warm shower soothed my skin, washing away the strain of the day, but not the heaviness in my chest. Even in the silence of the water, his voice echoed in my mind - harsh, cold, dismissive.
By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, I felt clean on the outside, but tired on the inside.
When I returned to the room, he was still working.
Still ignoring me.
Still acting like my existence was an inconvenience he wished would disappear.
I sat at the dresser and looked at my reflection.
There were faint shadows under my eyes.
My face looked dull, exhausted.
I didn't even recognize myself anymore..
Where was the girl who smiled easily?
Where was the one who dreamed?
Where was the one who believed life would be kind?
Gone.
Left behind somewhere I didn't know how to reach again.
I braided my hair with slow fingers and applied a thin layer of gloss - not to look pretty, just to feel... present. Alive. Something other than invisible.
I picked up a blanket from the closet and walked toward the couch. I arranged it neatly, feeling my limbs ache with the kind of tiredness that comes from holding back tears for too long.
Finally, I lowered my head onto the small pillow.
And then-
A sharp hiss cut through the quiet.
My head snapped up.
Aansh was trying to sit up, jaw clenched, breath strained.
I rushed to him without thinking.
"Are you okay?" I whispered.
"I'm fine," he said, but the pain in his voice betrayed him.
I glanced down - the bandage on his torso was stained with blood.
My heart dropped.
I hurried to the closet and returned with the first-aid kit.
"I need to change your bandage," I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
But before I could even open the kit properly-
A sudden, forceful pull.
The world spun.
I fell forward, landing on the bed.
Before I could react, he shifted his weight, blocking me with his presence.
I froze.
His nearness stole the breath from my lungs.
Not in a way that felt magical -
in a way that felt frightening, overwhelming, too much.
His voice dropped low, sharp as a blade.
"Stop acting like you care for me."
The words pierced me.
Acting?
Acting?
Why would I ever pretend?
Why would I ever fake something like that?
My chest tightened painfully.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
My throat felt locked, heavy.
He leaned closer, his tone filled with something harsh and unfamiliar.
"You'll get nothing by acting like the perfect wife."
Something inside me cracked.
My vision blurred.
But I forced my voice to stay steady.
"I want nothing from you, Aansh Rathore," I said, gathering every ounce of courage left in me. "I never expected anything from you, and I never will. And if you think basic humanity is acting, then you're not worth my help."
His jaw flexed. Something flickered in his eyes - anger, confusion, something else - but it vanished just as quickly.
"Good," he whispered, voice low and venomous.
"Because I won't give you anything. I won't live up to expectations I never agreed to. This marriage is a compromise. Nothing more. Something my grandfather pushed me into."
Each word landed like a stone in my chest.
Heavy.
Cold.
Final.
"A compromise for you," I whispered, pain wrapping around my ribs.
"But what was my fault? You trapped me inside your compromise."
His eyes darkened.
He grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze up.
His next words weren't just cruel - they were devastating.
"It's your punishment for disrespecting my family."
I stared at him.
Completely lost about his accusations.
Hurting more deeply than I knew was possible.
Punishment.
For something I didn't even understand.
He pulled away, and my breath finally returned in small, shaky pieces.
I got up as fast as I could - as if the mattress itself burned me. I walked out of the room, heart pounding painfully, and locked myself in one of the guest rooms.
Only then did I let everything fall apart.
The tears came fast, hot, uncontrollable.
I slid down the door, hugging my knees, trembling as I cried into the empty, cold air.
"Why me?" I whispered.
My voice cracked, small, broken.
"I just... want someone to care. Just once."
But the room stayed silent.
"I miss you, Mom," I choked out, my voice barely audible.
My sobs echoed softly around me.
My body felt hollow, shaking, exhausted.
I don't know how long I cried.
Minutes, hours - it didn't matter.
Eventually, my tears dried on their own, leaving my face stiff and salty.
At some point, sleep crept over me - the miserable, heavy kind of sleep that comes only after crying too much.
I curled into myself on the cold floor.
And drifted off, alone, hurting, wishing for a life that no longer felt like mine.
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