Chapter 9
Viya
My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I thought it might actually break free and escape my chest. If I had stayed in that conference room for even one more second, I was certain everyone would have heard it. The thunderous, panicked beating that surely echoed through the entire space.
I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. Armaan's gaze had been a physical weight, pressing against my skin, making it impossible to breathe normally. And then he had given me a task. A personal presentation. Tomorrow. Just him and me in a room.
What if I failed? What if I stumbled over my words or my code did not work or my ideas fell apart under scrutiny? What if he fired me?
The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through me as Akshita and I practically ran down the hallway away from the conference room.
Akshita was laughing. Actually laughing at me.
"Oh my god, Viya," she gasped between giggles. "The way you ran out of that conference room. It looked like some ghost was chasing you. I have never seen anyone move that fast."
I shot her a desperate look.
"Please do not tease me right now, Akshita. I need to work. I need to make sure my presentation is perfect. If I fail to present my idea clearly tomorrow, he might fire me."
That only made her laugh harder. She clutched her stomach, her eyes watering with mirth.
"Fire you? Viya, he was impressed. Did you not see his face? Vikrant was practically glowing with pride. You did amazing in there."
I shook my head, unconvinced.
"You do not understand. This is the CEO. Armaan Khanna himself. I cannot mess this up."
Akshita finally stopped laughing and put a hand on my shoulder, her expression turning more serious.
"You are going to be fine. Better than fine. You are brilliant, Viya. Just show him what you showed us today, and he will see it too."
I wanted to believe her. I really did. But the anxiety was already coiling in my stomach like a snake, squeezing tighter with each passing moment.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at my desk, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I worked on refining my code.
I opened multiple windows, cross referencing documentation, running tests, fixing bugs, optimizing algorithms. The world around me faded away until there was nothing but the screen in front of me and the problem I was trying to solve.
This was what I loved about coding. When I was deep in the work, nothing else mattered.
Not my confusing marriage. Not my uncertain future.
Not the fact that I had somehow ended up married to my own boss.
Just the clean logic of code, the satisfaction of watching something complex come together piece by piece.
At seven o'clock, Akshita appeared beside my desk, already wearing her bag and jacket.
"Viya, it is time to go home. You have been staring at that screen for hours."
I barely looked up.
"I just need to finish this one section."
"You said that an hour ago. Come on. You can work on it more tomorrow morning. You need to rest."
I finally tore my eyes away from the monitor and looked at her. She had that stubborn expression on her face, the one that meant she was not going to take no for an answer.
"Fine," I sighed. "But I am taking my laptop with me. I want to keep working on it at home."
Akshita rolled her eyes but did not argue. She helped me pack up my things, and we walked out of the office together. She gave me a quick hug before heading to catch her bus, and I flagged down an auto.
The ride home felt longer than usual, my mind already racing ahead to tomorrow's presentation. What if he asked questions I could not answer? What if my solution was not as good as I thought it was? What if I embarrassed myself in front of him?
When I reached the Khanna house, Mamta ji was waiting in the foyer. She smiled when she saw me.
"Welcome home, beta. Dadi ji has gone out for satsang at the temple. She will be back late tonight. And Armaan sir has not returned from the office yet. Are you hungry? Should I serve dinner?"
The thought of eating made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I was too anxious, too focused on the work I still needed to do.
"Thank you, Mamta ji, but I will eat later. I have some work to finish first."
She looked concerned but nodded.
"Alright, beta. But do not stay up too late. You need to take care of yourself."
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and headed upstairs to the bedroom. Our bedroom. The thought still felt strange every time it crossed my mind.
Once inside, I quickly changed out of my salwar kameez and into comfortable cotton pajamas. I pulled my hair out of its braid and let it fall loose around my shoulders. Then I grabbed my laptop, settled cross legged on the bed, and dove back into my work.
Lines of code scrolled across the screen. I typed, deleted, retyped. I ran simulations. I tested different approaches. I made notes in a separate document about how I would explain each component of my solution.
Time became meaningless. Minutes blurred into hours. I was vaguely aware of the room growing darker as the sun set outside, but I did not bother turning on more lights. The glow from the laptop screen was enough.
I was so deep in my work that I did not hear the bedroom door open. I did not hear footsteps crossing the room. I was completely and utterly absorbed in the problem I was trying to solve.
And then, finally, I found it. The solution that had been eluding me for the last hour suddenly clicked into place in my mind with perfect clarity. I could see exactly how to optimize the caching algorithm, exactly which data structures to use, exactly how to implement it efficiently.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, jumping up from the bed in pure excitement.
And collided directly with something hard and solid.
For a split second, I thought I had somehow run into the wall. But walls did not feel like this. Walls were not warm. Walls did not have arms that reached out to steady you when you stumbled.
I looked up slowly, my breath catching in my throat.
Armaan was standing right in front of me. So close I could see the faint stubble on his jaw, could smell the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with something else, something uniquely him. His hands were on my waist, holding me firmly to keep me from falling.
His eyes met mine, and there was a question in them. Something I could not quite read.
Those butterflies in my stomach that I had felt this morning came rushing back with a vengeance, fluttering wildly and making me feel dizzy.
What was this feeling? This strange, unsettling warmth that spread through my chest whenever he looked at me like that?
I became acutely aware of our position. How close we were standing. How his hands felt against my waist, strong and steady. How my own hands had somehow ended up pressed against his chest.
I stepped back quickly, putting distance between us. My face felt hot, and I could not quite meet his eyes anymore.
Armaan cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room.
"Mamta told me you did not have dinner. Why not?"
His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge to it. Not anger, exactly. Something else.
"I was working," I said quietly, gesturing vaguely toward my laptop still open on the bed. "I forgot about the time."
He looked at the laptop, then back at me. His expression was unreadable.
"Come on. Dinner is ready. Let us go eat."
Before I could protest or make an excuse, he reached out and took my hand. Not forcefully, but with a quiet certainty that left no room for argument. His hand was warm around mine, his grip gentle but firm.
He led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I followed in a daze, too surprised by the gesture to do anything else.
We entered the dining room, and I could see that the table had already been set. Dishes of food were laid out, still covered to keep them warm. But Mamta ji was nowhere to be seen. She must have already retired to her quarters for the night.
I sat down across from Armaan, suddenly very aware of how informal I looked in my pajamas while he was still in his work clothes. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but he still looked polished and put together.
And I looked like I had just rolled out of bed.
The thought made me want to sink into the floor.
But Armaan did not seem to notice or care. He just watched me with that same unreadable expression.
I realized with a start that I was supposed to serve the food. That was what a wife did, was it not? I stood up quickly and began uncovering the dishes. Rice, dal, sabzi, roti. Everything smelled delicious, and my stomach chose that moment to remind me that I had not eaten since breakfast.
I served food onto Armaan's plate first, trying to remember the proper portions, trying not to let my hands shake. Then I served myself and sat back down.
We ate in silence for a few moments. I kept my eyes on my plate, suddenly feeling shy and awkward in a way I had not felt since the wedding.
Then Armaan spoke.
"Tell me about your education."
I looked up, surprised by the question.
"My education?"
"Yes. Where did you study? What made you choose computer science?"
I set my spoon down slowly, trying to organize my thoughts.
"I studied at Government Engineering College here in Rajmer. I chose computer science because I have always loved solving puzzles. Coding felt like the biggest, most complex puzzle I could find."
Armaan nodded, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Do you enjoy working at New Gen Corp?"
"Yes," I said honestly. "Very much. The projects are interesting, and my team is supportive. Vikrant sir is an excellent mentor."
"What about outside of work? What do you do for fun? What are your hobbies?"
The questions kept coming, gentle but persistent, and I found myself answering without thinking too hard about it.
"I like reading. Mostly fiction. Fantasy novels, mysteries, sometimes romance. I like going for walks when I have time. And I used to paint, when I was younger, but I have not done that in a long time."
"Why did you stop?"
I hesitated. How could I explain that painting required time and space and materials that Aunty had considered wasteful? That anything I did purely for enjoyment had always been viewed as selfish?
"Life got busy," I said finally, which was not entirely a lie.
Armaan studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through my careful non answer.
"What is your favorite food?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Anything sweet," I admitted with a small smile. "I have a terrible sweet tooth. Gulab jamun, jalebi, kheer, anything. If it has sugar in it, I probably like it."
Something shifted in Armaan's expression. Not quite a smile, but close.
"Ice cream?"
"Especially ice cream."
We finished dinner, and I started to stand up to clear the plates. But Armaan spoke before I could move.
"You worked hard today. Do you want to go get some ice cream?"
I opened my mouth to say no. To make some excuse about being tired or needing to finish my presentation or not wanting to impose.
But before I could form the words, Armaan's lips quirked up slightly at the corners.
"I can see the answer on your face, Viya. You do want ice cream."
Heat flooded my cheeks. Was I really that transparent?
Armaan stood up and pulled out his car keys from his pocket.
"Come on. Let us go."
"But I am in my pajamas," I protested weakly.
"So change quickly. I will wait."
There was no arguing with that tone. It was not harsh or demanding, just absolutely certain.
I practically ran back upstairs and changed into a simple kurti and jeans in record time. I ran a brush through my hair and checked my reflection quickly in the mirror. Good enough.
When I came back downstairs, Armaan was waiting by the front door. He looked me over once, nodded slightly as though satisfied, and opened the door.
"After you."
I walked out into the cool night air, my heart doing that strange fluttering thing again.
What was happening? Why was he being so kind? Was this normal for married couples, even ones who barely knew each other?
Armaan clicked the car remote, and the lights of a sleek black sedan flashed in the driveway. He walked over and opened the passenger door for me.
I slid into the seat, and he closed the door gently before walking around to the driver's side.
As he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, I found myself wondering where this night would lead.
And whether I should be terrified or excited about finding out.