Chapter 27
Viya
I changed out of the clothes I had worn to court and into comfortable pajamas, my hands moving mechanically through the familiar motions. The bathroom had been my refuge for the past hour, but I could not hide in there forever.
When I finally emerged, the bedroom felt different. The flowers Armaan had arranged made the air thick with their scent. The soft lighting cast everything in a warm glow that felt wrong given the coldness inside me.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hand unconsciously moving to my stomach. The baby had started to show more noticeably in the past few weeks. A small bump that was impossible to hide now.
A reminder of everything that had happened. Everything that had been real and everything that had been a lie.
I heard the door open behind me. Armaan. I did not turn around.
He moved quietly across the room and sat down beside me on the bed. Not too close, but close enough that I could feel his presence like heat from a fire.
He reached for my hand.
I pulled it back immediately, tucking both hands protectively around my stomach.
Armaan let out a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough with emotion.
"Baby, I know you are angry with me."
Baby. The endearment made something twist painfully in my chest.
"But that does not mean you do not love me," he continued. "I can see it in your eyes, Viya. I can feel it. You love me as much as I love you."
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I felt nothing for him, that whatever I had felt had died the moment I learned the truth.
But I could not make the words come out. Because they would be lies.
"I understand I made a mistake," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
"And I regret it. Every day. Every hour.
Every minute. Every second of every day since you left, I have regretted not telling you the truth from the beginning.
But Viya, you have to believe me when I tell you that not a single part of me ever thought of you as disposable.
Not a single part of me ever thought to use you. "
I kept my eyes fixed on the wall, refusing to look at him.
"I was never in favor of this arrangement," he continued.
"When Sangeetha aunty first proposed it, I was repulsed by the idea.
Using an innocent woman as a shield against fate?
It felt wrong. It felt cruel. But Dadi's health was deteriorating.
She was so scared of losing me the way she lost my mother.
And I thought I loved Avija. I thought I was doing this for a future with her. "
He laughed bitterly.
"But I was wrong. About everything. What I felt for Avija was nothing.
It was convenient attraction. Surface compatibility.
It was not real. And the moment I met you, really met you, I knew that.
I swear to you, Viya, the day I married you was the day I ended everything with Avija.
I broke all ties. I told her it was over.
Because you were the one I wanted. You were the one I chose. "
I could hear the desperation in his voice now.
"These past weeks, being apart from you, watching you with Puneet, knowing you were in pain and I could not comfort you.
It was worse than hell. It was torture. Every night I sat outside your hospital room, knowing you were just meters away but I could not see you, could not touch you, could not tell you how sorry I was. "
He moved slightly closer, though he did not try to touch me again.
"But you are here now. You are home. And I am never letting you go again. Six months, six years, sixty years. However long it takes, I will prove to you that my love is real. That we are real."
His voice dropped to something almost possessive.
"You are mine, Viya. My wife. The mother of my child. And I am yours. Completely and irrevocably yours."
I did not respond. Did not turn to look at him. Just sat there with my hands on my stomach and my eyes burning with unshed tears.
Eventually, I lay down on the bed, turning to face the wall, putting my back to him.
I heard him sigh. Heard the rustle of fabric as he stood up. Then the bathroom door opened and closed.
When he came back, the bed dipped as he lay down behind me. He did not try to touch me, but I could feel the warmth of his body close to mine.
"Goodnight, Viya," he whispered into the darkness. "I love you."
I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
◆◆◆
The next morning, I woke to find Armaan already gone. A note on his pillow said he had gone to the office early but would be home by evening.
I spent the morning in the bedroom, not wanting to face Dadi or Papa or anyone else. But around noon, there was a knock on the door.
Mamta ji entered, carrying a beautiful silk saree draped over her arms. It was a deep emerald green with gold embroidery, elegant and expensive.
"Dadi ji sent this for you, beta. For tonight's party."
I looked at her in confusion.
"What party?"
"I am not entirely sure," Mamta ji admitted. "Armaan sir has organized something. A gathering in the garden. But he did not say what it is for. He just asked me to make sure you have something appropriate to wear."
A party. Of course. The garden had been buzzing with activity all morning. I had heard workers setting up from my window.
"I am not going," I said flatly.
Mamta ji looked uncomfortable.
"Beta, I think Armaan sir is expecting you to attend."
"I do not care what he expects."
But even as I said it, I knew it was futile. The court had ordered me to make genuine attempts at reconciliation. Refusing to attend a party my husband had organized would not look good if we ended up back in front of Judge Desai.
Around three in the afternoon, there was another knock. This time it was Papa.
He entered with his gentle smile, but his eyes were serious.
"Viya, beta. May I come in?"
I nodded, and he sat down in the chair near the window.
"I heard you are reluctant to attend the party tonight."
"I do not even know what it is for. And I do not understand in what capacity I would be there. Nobody knows I am Armaan's wife. It will just be awkward."
Papa nodded thoughtfully.
"I understand your concerns. But Viya, this party is very important. To Armaan. To this family. I am asking you, as a personal favor, to please attend."
There was something in his tone that made me look at him more closely.
"Will you tell me what this is about?"
"I think it is better if you see for yourself. But I promise you, beta, it is not meant to cause you pain. Quite the opposite."
I studied his face, trying to read what he was not saying. But Papa had always been hard to read.
"If you are truly uncomfortable going as his wife," Papa continued, "then come as an employee of New Gen Corp. Many of the company's staff will be there. You can blend in with them."
An employee. That felt somehow worse, but at least it was a role I could hide behind.
"Fine," I said finally. "I will go."
◆◆◆
At seven o'clock, I got ready in the emerald green saree. It was beautiful, I had to admit. The silk felt cool and luxurious against my skin, and the color brought out the warmth in my complexion. The blouse had been tailored perfectly to accommodate my growing belly.
I did my makeup carefully, applied a bindi, and left my hair loose in soft waves. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
I looked like Armaan Khanna's wife.
I looked like I belonged in his world.
The thought made my chest tight.
At exactly eight o'clock, there was a knock on the bedroom door. When I opened it, I found Aryan standing there, dressed sharply in a suit, his expression warm and encouraging.
"You look beautiful, bhabhi," he said softly. "Are you ready?"
"Aryan, you do not have to call me that. I do not know if—"
"You are my bhabhi," he said firmly. "My brother's wife. Nothing changes that."
He offered me his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, I took it.
We walked down the stairs together and out into the garden. It had been transformed into something magical. Fairy lights hung from every tree. Tables were set up with white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. A small stage had been erected near the fountain.
And there were people. So many people. I recognized several faces from the office. Board members. Investors. Senior management.
This was not a small family gathering. This was a major event.
Aryan guided me through the crowd. People nodded politely at me, probably recognizing me from the office.
Then I saw Armaan.
He was standing near the stage, talking to a group of businessmen. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look every inch the powerful CEO. His hair was styled back, his expression composed and professional.
But when his eyes found me across the garden, everything about him changed. Softened. Heated.
He excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward the stage. A microphone had been set up there.
The music lowered. People began to quiet down, turning their attention toward the stage.
Armaan stepped up to the microphone, and the garden fell completely silent.
"Thank you all for coming tonight," he began, his voice amplified across the garden. "I know many of you are wondering why I called this gathering. It is not a business announcement. It is not a product launch. It is something far more important. Something personal."
He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found me.
"For those of you who do not know, I am someone who values privacy.
I keep my personal life separate from my professional life.
I do not share details about my relationships or my private affairs.
Many of you have speculated over the years about my life outside of work.
Some of you thought you knew the truth."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"But you did not. Because the truth is something I kept hidden. Something I kept secret for reasons that I now realize were wrong."
He took a breath.
"Three months ago, I got married."
A ripple of surprise moved through the crowd. Whispers started immediately.
"I married an incredible woman. A woman who is brilliant and kind and everything I never knew I needed. A woman who works at this company, who earned her position through her own merit, her own talent. A woman who had no idea who I was when we first met, and who fell in love with me anyway."
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.
"I kept our marriage secret because I was a coward. Because I was protecting myself and my own interests instead of protecting her. And that secrecy, those lies of omission, they caused her tremendous pain. Pain she did not deserve. Pain I am responsible for."
His voice grew stronger.
"But tonight, that ends. Tonight, I want the world to know the truth. I want everyone here to know that I am married to the most remarkable woman I have ever met."
He looked directly at me.
"Viya Khanna. My wife."
The crowd turned as one, hundreds of pairs of eyes finding me standing next to Aryan. I felt frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe.
My heart was doing strange things in my chest. Part of me wanted to run, to hide from all these staring eyes, from the weight of this public declaration.
He had just announced our marriage to everyone.
To the business world. To his colleagues and partners and competitors.
There was no taking this back now. No more secrets. No more hiding.
And yet, another part of me, the part I had been trying so hard to silence, felt something else entirely. Relief. Validation. A tiny, treacherous flutter of hope.
He had called me remarkable. Had told everyone I fell in love with him without knowing who he was. Had claimed me publicly as his wife in front of everyone who mattered in his world.
This was not the action of a man who saw me as temporary. As disposable. As a shield against fate.
This was the action of a man who was fighting for me. Who was willing to expose himself, to make himself vulnerable, to prove that I mattered.
I did not know if I was ready to forgive him. Did not know if I could ever fully trust him again. But standing there with hundreds of eyes on me, hearing my name spoken with such reverence and possession in his voice, I felt something inside me shift.
Just a little. Just enough to be dangerous.
Armaan descended from the stage and walked directly to me. He extended his hand.
"Come here, baby. Stand with me."
I looked at his outstretched hand, then at his face. There was vulnerability there. A silent plea.
I could refuse. Could turn around and walk away, make a scene, humiliate him in front of all these important people.
But something in his eyes stopped me.
Slowly, hesitantly, I placed my hand in his.
His fingers closed around mine immediately, possessive and warm.
He led me through the crowd, which parted to let us pass, and up onto the stage.
Under the lights, in front of everyone, he turned to face me.
"This is my wife," he said into the microphone, though his eyes never left mine. "The woman I love. The woman who is carrying my child. The woman I will spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of."
Someone brought two champagne glasses and a bottle. Armaan took the bottle but immediately set one of the glasses aside.
"My wife is pregnant," he announced. "So I will drink for both of us tonight."
He poured champagne into the remaining glass and raised it high.
"To my wife. To new beginnings. To honesty and love and the future we will build together."
He drank the entire glass in one long swallow. Then he set it down and pulled me close.
Music started playing. A slow, romantic song.
"Dance with me," he murmured, his lips close to my ear.
"I do not want to—"
"I know you do not want to. Dance with me anyway. Show them that you are mine and I am yours."
His arm slid around my waist, his hand coming to rest possessively on my lower back. His other hand held mine firmly.
And despite everything, despite the anger and hurt and betrayal, I let him lead me in a slow dance under the fairy lights, in front of hundreds of witnesses, while the garden spun around us.