Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 31

Khwaish had gone upstairs to her room to study for her viva exam. The men were playing golf in Akshat's private golf course that overlooked the backyard. The rhythmic sound of the club hitting the ball and the occasional bursts of laughter floated faintly to where we sat.

Yesterday, night was the most hilarious one.

Flashback

After Zaviyar and Akshat uncoiled themselves from each other's arms, Akshat got busy telling Adhira how it was accidental. While Adhira kept telling him, how she wanted to write a BL book and he had just inspired her.

Every time Adhira glanced at Zaviyar she had this creepy laugh, and then she said out loud, 'You'll be the bottom'. Most of the time Zaviyar stood there confused wondering what BL was.

Then after that, I had to tell him what BL actually is. And as soon he got to know what BL meant, he felt scandalized.

Every time Adhira glanced at him, tapping her cheek and if she was already planning the character, Zaviyar would hide behind me.

" Apni pati ki izzat bachalo. ", he said hiding his face behind my pallu. And I would admit that it was cute seeing trying to avoid Adhira because he was scared.

Meanwhile Khwaish was fanning Agastya who was knocked out on the couch. Akshat had punched him in the face and he ended up on the couch as though his soul flew out of his body. Khwaish being the sweetheart she is, kept trying to wake him up.

Agastya did wake up once but then ended up fainting again, Khwaish had only asked him, "Aap thik hain na- ", and he was out cold.

Meanwhile Zaviyar was still holding on the end of my pallu, and then he turned to Akshat and whisper-yelled, " oii teri biwi ko sambhal, khade khade mera balatkaar kar rahi hain. "

" Chee apni shakal dekhi hain tune kabhi aaine mein, tujhe sarak ka kutta na muh lagaye. Aur meri biwi tujhe dekhegi. ", Akshat said with a frown.

" Abeh akal se dushman, teri biwi apne khayali pulao mein hamari shaadi Kara chuki hain abhi tak. ", Zaviyar said and pulled me in front and then said. " Aur tune apni surat dekhi hai? Kali billi tujhe dekhti hain touh usse bhi bolna parta hain ki, pta nhi kis manhus ki shakal dekhliya. "

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Zaviyar's humour was a little old school but it was funny.

" Tum touh meri side mein ho na ", he asked looking at me and I couldn't help but nod. Looking around I realised how these men were the same tough guys outside but now were fighting like cats and dogs.

" Ira baby ese naa dekho, mehmaan bhaag jayenge. ", Akshat said covering her eyes with his hand while he dragged her up.

" Isse touh badla mein kal lunga, golf course mein. ", Zaviyar muttered. " Aur tum kya khee-khee -khee-khee kar rahi ho. ", he snapped at me in disbelief before storming off.

Free drama is always love. I, then turned to see Agastya still out cold. And Khwaish worried.

" Chal ishu, ghumke aate hain. Thori der mein khud uth jayega. ", i said and she nodded hesitantly before running upto me while glancing back at him. Then as if something clicked in her head, she ran back to him and cover him with the shawl she had taken.

" Isse thand nhi lagegi. ", she said and then we both walked away.

Flashback ends

Adhira and I, however, had no interest in the game or the noise that came with it. We both preferred peace and solace, the kind of quiet that lets thoughts breathe.

"Is it true?" Adhira asked suddenly, her tone breaking through the soft silence that had settled between us.

Her gaze lingered on me, eyes calm yet carrying something unspoken, curiosity mixed with hesitation.

"What is?" I asked, not looking up, my fingers idly flipping through an old album filled with Zaviyar, Akshat and Agastya's childhood pictures. Their faces smiled up at the camera. Three of them had chubby cheeks, scraped knees, and messy hair back when they were no older than twelve.

"I- I'm sorry if I come off as rude," she stammered, her fingers tightening around her teacup. "B-but I saw that video... the one that went viral when you slapped Adeel Ansari and threw cake at him."

My hands froze mid-turn. The faint sweetness of the dessert I had just eaten turned sharp and bitter on my tongue.

Ah, so she did know. But chose to act unaware in front of Zaviyar.

"Yes, it's true," I said quietly, not lifting my gaze from the album.

Adeel's name didn't sting anymore. It no longer carried pain, just a dull echo of a lesson learned too late.

But his mention still made me reflect, however briefly, on the kind of choices I'd made, how I looked past the red flags.

The kind of mistakes a 27-year-old woman should've known better than to make.

"I... I'm sorry if that came off as rude," Adhira said again, stirring her tea nervously. "I just knew him through Eshaan's office. He always came off as the sweetest guy."

"I'm not sure about that," I replied, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "But yes, he was the best at sugar-coating his words. It helped him in the long run... people like that always manage to climb the professional ladder with ease."

Adhira smiled awkwardly as if unsure whether to agree or defend him. Then she leaned back slightly, the conversation softening. "Let's get to know each other better, Safiya. Since our husbands are best friends, I think we can be too."

I nodded, offering her a small thumbs-up. "Ask away."

She thought for a moment before speaking again, "Hmm, so... Akshat told me how you and Zaviyar got married. I hope I'm not being too intrusive but how are you managing both your career and life in Azamgarh? Akshat mentioned it's quite backward there - that people despise modern beliefs."

" Their mentality is their problem, not mine, " I said, crossing one leg over the other. "At first, it was strange and yes, it enraged me. But you eventually realize no one can force you to change unless you let them. You draw your own boundaries."

Adhira nodded, her expression softening. "Yes, they are a little orthodox. But still... I've met good people there too."

"That's what I thought too after I married Eshaan," she continued quietly, " but now, when I look back... I can't imagine living my whole life doing a compromise."

Compromise...

I looked at her, her words lingering in the air longer than she probably intended. "So, Akshat..." I started, my curiosity getting the better of me. "How did you meet him, Adhira? And um... why did you divorce Eshaan, if you don't mind me asking?"

She smiled faintly, as though bracing herself. "It's a long story. But after leaving Eshaan, my parents insisted I come back home. I thought they were worried about me... but I was wrong, Safiya. They were worried about their reputation, not my happiness."

I frowned, a strange heaviness forming in my chest as she spoke.

"They forced me to go back to Eshaan," she continued, her voice trembling. "They wanted me to withdraw the divorce I had filed. They drugged me... to make me sleep with him and get me pregnant. They wanted to make sure I would have no escape."

My heart dropped. I stared at her, words caught in my throat. Her grip tightened on the armrest, her knuckles white with the memory.

I immediately stood and pulled her into a hug, my own heartbeat loud in my ears.

"I- I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her tears. "It's just... I've never been able to open up to anyone about this. I guess I ended up saying too much."

"Please don't apologize," I said firmly. "I know we've just met but you can trust me, Adhira. Really."

She nodded weakly, taking deep breaths to steady herself.

"A-and how did you get out of that situation? And how did Akshat come into the picture?" I asked gently, hoping not to reopen the wound but needing to understand.

"I met Akshat before all this," she said softly. "When I was trying to clear my head from this mess... he had just bought the publishing house that helped me publish my books. He said we needed to review the contract and marketing strategy."

I frowned slightly. Marketing strategy? That's usually handled by the manager or agent.

Why would the CEO himself take interest in something that small?

And contracts aren't simply re-reviewed unless the previous one is terminated.

But I stayed quiet. Adhira didn't seem like someone who lived in the business world she belonged to art, not corporate chess games.

"Then again at a hotel," she continued, " and later at a business party.

I was there as my best friend's plus one and Akshat happened to be the host. That's when he asked me for a dance, even though I told him I didn't know how.

" Her lips curved into a small smile, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

"That night, we talked while dancing about literature, life and his company. He told me they also invested in real estate."

I could see the soft glint in her eyes. The kind you only see when someone speaks of a person who made them feel seen.

"So when I needed an apartment, I reached out to him," she said. "By then, Eshaan was trying to delay the divorce. Akshat saved me that day. Apparently, he had overheard Eshaan talking to my father at a restaurant a few days earlier. He tried to reach me but couldn't."

"And then you both got married?" I asked, a little incredulous. "Just like that?"

"Uhm... some paparazzi saw us going to his apartment together and assumed the worst. With my ongoing divorce, I would've been crucified in the media.

And Akshat -his family was already pressuring him to marry.

His grandfather's will required him to be married before he turned thirty-five. So, when he asked... I agreed."

I leaned back, eyes widening slightly. "Okay, wow. That sounds like a whole Ekta Kapoor serial."

Adhira let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

"I can't believe your parents did that," I murmured, still stunned. "Not only manipulated you but... tried to trap you like that. How can parents do that to their own child?" My voice dropped. "Are you still in contact with them?"

The question hung in the air like a cloud heavy, still and painfully honest. What i didn't know was how ironical my statement had been.

" They try to reach out. " Adhira said after a moment of silence, leaning back into her chair. Her voice had that familiar bitterness, the quiet one that settles deep and refuses to fade. "But I know it's only because Akshat comes from old money... and belongs to the elite class."

Her words made something twist in my chest. I stared at her at the woman who had faced storms I could barely imagine and found myself unable to say anything for a few seconds. The faint clinking of the spoon against the teacup filled the silence between us.

"Thank god you know your parents' true colours," I finally said, exhaling sharply. "At least now they won't be able to manipulate you again."

She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. Then, looking at me with that same calmness that once seemed comforting, she said.

" Manipulation always doesn't come in schemes and malice, sometimes it is wrapped in sweet words and emotions. I'm not saying this to offend you, Safiya... but your parents are no better."

I froze when she said that and gently looked up.

"Excuse me-?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

Adhira didn't flinch. She looked straight into my eyes, her tone unchanging steady, almost gentle but each word carried weight.

"Akshat told me how you were replaced with Zulekha.

Your parents, from the very beginning, gave you a life far away from Azamgarh, educated you, made you independent because they wanted you to live differently.

To live freely. Then why push you back into the same quicksand they pulled you out from? "

Her words struck me like cold water, and before I could gather my thoughts, she continued, "Your parents might not be as cruel as mine, Safiya. But they emotionally manipulated you into this marriage. And you... even after being strong enough to oppose it, went along with their decision?"

Her words landed one after another blunt, direct, merciless like arrows being shot at me one after another. It felt as if every syllable carried the weight of truth I wasn't ready to face.

The air suddenly felt heavier, thicker like it was pushing against my chest. My throat tightened but I forced myself to meet her gaze.

"If they truly loved you," she went on, her tone soft but unwavering, "they wouldn't have prioritized what society thought of them over your happiness.

I know... it's in our nature to deny that our parents can ever hurt us.

We like to believe they always know what's best. But sometimes.

.." - her voice faltered slightly - "sometimes, they're the ones who wound us the deepest."

My heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned out her words. I wanted to defend them. But the arguments felt hollow before they even reached my lips.

"They were scared-" she continued, her eyes distant now as if speaking to her past and mine together. "Scared of people pointing fingers. Scared of being talked about. So they decided what was 'best'", she made inverted commas with her fingers,

" for you. They forced both of you into a marriage that neither of you were ready for. And now... it's obvious, isn't it? You and Zaviyar are struggling to even hold onto this bond.", Her words sliced through the quiet room like a blade.

"In his list of priorities, where do you think you stand, Safiya?" she asked softly, almost like she already knew the answer. "I wonder if you're even there."

I snapped my head toward her, my breath catching in my throat. The tightening around my chest grew unbearable as if invisible fingers were coiling around my airpipe, slowly, deliberately. For a brief moment, I couldn't breathe.

Adhira stood, brushing imaginary creases off her saree. The movement was graceful, but the air around her felt charged, dense with everything that had just been said.

"I'm sorry if my words were harsh," she said after a moment, her tone gentler now.

"But being older than you, I can't just sit back and watch you walk into the same fire I did.

Life is too long to spend it with someone who doesn't see you for who you are.

Ask yourself this, just once...", she paused and looked right into my eyes.

" If everything you have is stripped away. Your name, your beauty, your status, your wealth - who would still hold your hand and stay?"

Her words hit harder than she probably intended. They were cruel in their honesty, like an elder sister scolding a younger one not out of malice but from a place of painful experience. Each sentence dug into me like a blade dragging slowly across old scars, reopening wounds I thought had healed.

"Thank y-you," I managed to whisper, my voice trembling as I reached out and held her hand. She gave it a soft squeeze, a gesture of reassurance, not pity.

She nodded, offering me a small, tired smile. "Let us go and get snacks.," she said, checking the time before standing up.

I followed her still caught between gratitude and ache. The hallway was quiet, the faint scent of jasmine drifting from the vase near the stairs. Everything around me felt almost too still as if the walls themselves had overheard every word.

I looked ahead and I noticed the way her saree flowed when she walked. It felt like she was lighting up and filling the hallway with colour as she walked.

"Adhira-" I called out when we reached the corridor. She turned around, her brows slightly furrowed, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Will you please teach me how to wear a saree in that style?" I asked, pointing toward the elegant drape that hugged her frame so perfectly.

Her face softened, her lips curving into a pearly grin that melted the heaviness lingering between us. "I would love to," she said warmly.

And for the first time that evening, I felt something shift inside me, something small but tender. For the first time, I felt like I was talking to an elder sister, one who wasn't trying to judge me but protect me from a future I couldn't yet see.

___________________________________________

I sat quietly in Adhira's room, my fingers tracing the hem of the saree she had placed beside me earlier. She had gone into her walk-in closet to find something diverse for me - a saree, she said, that would "suit my aura."

Her room was as warm as her presence. The soft pastels curtains that danced lazily in the afternoon breeze with sunlight filtering through.

The space smelled faintly of lavender and freshly brewed coffee.

A large balcony opened to the garden below, and the curtains swayed gently as if whispering secrets between them.

Her bed was a charming mess covered with stuffed toys and open books stacked unevenly across the duvet. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. For a woman so composed and poised, her room carried a quiet innocence, something untouched by the world's bitterness.

But what caught my attention most was the wall with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that stood like a silent witness to her life.

It was filled with novels, journals, poetry collections, even photo frames tucked between the pages.

It wasn't just a bookshelf; it felt like a portrait of her.

All the stories she had lived, all the ones she wished she could rewrite.

Adhira had told me earlier, rather casually, that she and Akshat lived in separate rooms. "We're trying to grow closer as friends first," she had said, smiling softly. "Before taking a step towards marriage."

Her words had sounded so calm then, so reasonable yet now, sitting here, I realized how heavy they were. To live under the same roof yet not share the same space... it must take strength to choose patience over pretense.

Adhira's words from earlier kept echoing in my head. 'If everything you have is stripped away. Your identity, your name, your beauty, your wealth - who would still hold your hand?'

I pressed my palms against my temples, exhaling shakily. I didn't know why her voice wouldn't leave my mind. Maybe because she wasn't entirely wrong.

Not seeing Zaviyar around since morning had left me oddly restless too. It wasn't like I needed him , at least that's what I kept telling myself. But every time I looked around and didn't find him there, an anxious little ache started forming in my chest.

I heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Adhira emerging from the closet, her arms full of sarees in different shades - crimson, ivory, emerald and a few small jewellery boxes balanced on top.

"Here," she said, placing them on the bed. "I couldn't decide which one would suit you best, so I brought options."

She smiled at me, effortlessly graceful like the chaos of emotions I was battling didn't exist in her world.

"Akshat ji told me that he and the boys went out to some site to check on the construction," she added casually, setting down a pair of earrings on the nightstand.

I nodded slowly, forcing a small smile. Of course. So that's where he went. He didn't even bother to tell me. Then again, when did he ever?

A bitter laugh almost escaped me. I swallowed it down.

'In his list of priorities, where do you stand? I wonder if you're even there.'

Adhira's words from earlier came back, sharp and cold like a blade drawn against glass.

I needed to stop. My mind was spiraling again, feeding on every quiet doubt, every unanswered call, every ignored glance.

It's okay, I told myself, the words ringing hollow. I'm okay. I don't need him. Being alone is better than being so dependent on a man that you forget who you are.

I blinked back the sudden sting in my eyes and looked up just as Adhira turned toward me with a bright smile.

"Let's start," she said cheerfully, as if she hadn't just unknowingly ripped open an old wound hours ago.

I nodded, pushing all thoughts aside and standing up. Maybe she was right, maybe distraction was mercy. At least being busy would keep my mind quiet even if only for a little while.

Adhira spread the saree across the bed, the soft fabric catching the afternoon light.

"Davani style will look lovely on you," she said, picking up one end and motioning for me to stand.

I did as told, trying to keep the pleats from slipping. "I've never worn it like this before," I admitted, watching her work through the mirror.

She smiled, tucking the fabric neatly at my waist. "It's beautiful, traditional but still so graceful. My dadi used to say a woman looks strongest when she drapes her own story in silk."

I laughed softly. "Well, I hope my story doesn't fall apart halfway through the event."

Adhira chuckled, adjusting the pallu over my shoulder. "Not a chance. You'll make heads turn. Maybe even one particular stubborn man's."

I looked away, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "He won't notice."

"Oh, he will. " she said quietly, meeting my gaze through the mirror. " Hosh na udd gaye uske touh naam badal dena. "

_______________________________________

I twired around in the davani saree, the lower skirt flowing with grace. It looked so beautiful. The payal made a beautiful sound and so did the bangles on my wrists.

"Arey chaloo na... itni sundar toh lag rahi ho," Adhira insisted, tugging at my hand with her usual infectious enthusiasm.

"Arey kya zarurat hai," I mumbled, unsure, my hesitation probably written all over my face.

But Adhira being Adhira, didn't listen. She practically dragged me along before I could protest further.

She'd changed into another saree, an elegant one and now she wanted both of us to do a photoshoot together.

( Okay so this style of sarees are called — davani style, or gopi style or south indian drape. Now, I'm not really sure about the exact name so I'm using davani style. ?????? Kisiko pta ho touh bta dena. I'll improvise in the writing )

From the first floor, I could see Zaviyar and Akshat completely absorbed in their chess game.

Yes, they had returned and hour ago. Their heads were bent in quiet concentration, the occasional sound of a piece clicking against the board echoing faintly through the hall.

Both of us descended the stairs, Adhira walking ahead with effortless grace while I followed behind, trying my best to stay hidden behind her frame.

I was still a little conscious; it wasn't exactly easy to carry a saree, especially one draped in the davani style.

It felt too traditional, too graceful for my clumsy hands to handle.

As soon as we stepped down the stairs, all heads turned towards us. The subtle hum of conversation faded instantly. Even Akshat and Zaviyar looked up from their chessboard and on the other side, Agastya and Khwaish paused whatever they were doing.

Khwaish had her iPad propped on her lap, deeply focused on something probably a case summary or a study file. Agastya sat beside her, pretending to read but clearly just watching her to make sure she didn't get distracted.

"Zaviyar, I suggest you hold your heart. We don't want you fainting here," Adhira teased with a mischievous glint before stepping aside to reveal me.

I froze. My fingers itched to do something, maybe fix the pallu, adjust the bangles, maybe even dig a hole in the floor and jump straight in. I stood there awkwardly, caught between wanting to twirl and wanting to vanish entirely. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Zaviyar, who had been silent until now, got up slowly. His eyes were unreadable as he began walking toward me. My heart skipped once, twice... and then, disappointingly, dropped when he simply walked past me.

Wow. This man. I got ready thinking he'd at least look at me, and he just-walked past? Great.

Before I could roll my eyes or walk away, I felt a soft tug at the strands of my hair. My breath caught. I tried to glance sideways, but he was behind me, too close for me to see clearly. My heart hammered in confusion.

After what felt like an eternity, he moved around and stood in front of me.

His expression had softened, all the sharpness in his face replaced by something I couldn't quite name.

He dug his hands into his pockets and pulled out two delicate gajras, white with hints of red roses and fresh, their fragrance filling the air around us.

Without a word, he took my hand gently and slipped them around my wrists, his touch careful, reverent almost. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

His fingers brushed against my skin with such tenderness that I had to wonder was this really Zaviyar?

Or had Akshat accidentally hit him on the head with a golf club and knocked some sense into him?

"Kaise lag rahi hain aapko aapki biwi?" Adhira teased from behind, grinning from ear to ear.

"Behad hi khoobsurat," he said simply, not once taking his eyes off me.

The way he said it... soft, certain but it hit something inside me I'd been trying to guard for too long.

'If everything from you is stripped away-your identity, your last name, your beauty, your status, your wealth-who would still hold your hand and stand beside you?'

The words echoed in my head like a cruel reminder.

My heart betrayed me for a second, fluttering when it shouldn't.

I stepped back quickly, putting distance between us.

I couldn't let myself believe this. He didn't mean it.

This was just another performance, another one of his perfectly curated gestures to show everyone that we were "in love. "

"Aap mere liye toh laaye hi nahi, Akshat ji," Adhira pouted dramatically, breaking the tension in the air.

"Hum wapas aa rahe the tab red light pe Zaviyar ko ek aurat dikhi jo yeh sab bech rahi thi. Well, he bought all-and it was the last piece she had," Akshat said, trying to defend himself while throwing Zaviyar a knowing look.

"Main tumhare liye bhune hue bhutte laaya hoon. Chalenge?" he added, brushing a strand of her hair aside with a grin.

"Gajre kal laa dunga, shrimati ji," he teased, earning a playful smack on his arm and Adhira's giggle in return.

I turned away quietly. "I-I'll go change," I muttered, wanting nothing more than to get out of the saree and the confusing emotions tangled with it.

I climbed a few steps, my fingers brushing the railing lightly. But just as I reached the fifth step, my foot slipped. A sharp pain shot through my ankle, twisting violently. The next second, I was sitting on the stairs, clutching the railing as a choked cry escaped my lips.

Before anyone else could react, Zaviyar was already there.

His footsteps were heavy, fast, filled with something that almost felt like panic.

He crouched beside me, his eyes flashing with silent rage not at me, but at the situation as he inspected my ankle.

It looked fine for now but I knew it would swell later.

"Oh no, Zaviyar bhai! Aap bhabhi ko kamre mein le jaiye, main medicine leke aati hoon," Khwaish said quickly before running upstairs.

Without another word, Zaviyar slipped an arm beneath my knees and another around my shoulders. I gasped softly as he lifted me effortlessly, his jaw set, his movements steady.

He carried me to our room and gently placed me on the bed. Without asking, he took the extra pillows, stacked them carefully and placed my injured foot on top. Then, he walked to the mini fridge, grabbed the ice trays and filled a plastic bag with ice cubes before sitting beside me.

"No need. I-I'll manage," I whispered, trying to pull my leg away but the moment I did, pain flared up again.

"May I?" he asked quietly.

I just nodded.

He lifted the saree drape just enough to expose my calf, his fingers brushing my skin lightly. Then he pressed the ice pack to my ankle. The cold stung so sharply that I hissed.

"It will get better. Just hold on," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment, concern evident in his face.

Khwaish soon entered with a strip of medicine and a glass of water. Without wasting a second, Zaviyar took the pill from her hand and offered it to me.

"You take care of yourself, bhabhi. If you need anything, call me, okay?" Khwaish said sweetly before leaving us alone.

I looked back at Zaviyar, his gaze was still fixed on my ankle as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Is it still hurting?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded.

"It will get better," he repeated, though this time his tone carried something gentler, almost protective.

"I want to take off this dress. Can you get me my bag?" I said quietly.

He nodded immediately and placed my trolley bag on the bed. I picked out my nightwear and glanced at him. He seemed to understand and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When I was finally changed into a simple, cute nightdress I let out a deep sigh.

The saree, the stares, the fall, the touch.

All of it played in my head, of it had left my heart tangled in too many emotions I wasn't ready to name.

The saree now laid on my side and so did the jewelleries.

Adhira gifted it to me telling me how she thought that it was mad for me.

Zaviyar did bring many gifts for them but I don't think it really mattered as it seemed more like a formality rather than a gift. I quickly opened my phone and ordered one of the best suits which I think would suit Adhira a lot.

Zaviyar walked in just as I was done changing, followed by the staff who rolled in two serving carts, their polished trays glinting under the soft yellow light.

The faint aroma of food filled the room.

The creamy paneer, spiced rice and warm rotis.

They quietly arranged everything on the side table and left after a polite bow, leaving only the two of us in the room.

The silence that followed was oddly comfortable yet charged like the calm before a storm that neither of us wanted to name.

"You should go and eat dinner with them," I said, scratching my nape awkwardly. My voice came out softer than intended.

"I think right now my wife needs me more than they do," he replied smoothly, already serving both of us.

My wife.

He said my wife.

The words shouldn't have meant anything and yet they did.

My heart stumbled, just for a second. But then, like a cruel echo, that old thought returned.

'It's clear you and Zaviyar are struggling to even hold onto this bond.

' My breath hitched and the small smile that had started to form faded instantly.

I don't know why I was feeling so overwhelmed when I knew this marriage wasn't supposed to work out.

Why am I acting like a wife for her husband's attention?

I looked up at him quietly. He had already served small portions of rice on both plates, moving with deliberate care. He placed paneer khorma in his plate and paneer curry in mine. When he handed me the plate, I pointed subtly toward the khorma.

He shook his head lightly.

"There's cashews in here," he said matter-of-factly.

My eyes widened. How does he know that? I never told him about my allergy. He shouldn't have known.

As if reading my mind, he continued, "When you came to Azamgarh for the first time, Mom told me you're allergic to cashews."

He set the bed tables in front of both of us. One for me and one for himself with the same quiet attentiveness. He arranged the dishes, handed me a spoon and went on to serve himself again.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked casually, sitting beside me. His elbow brushed mine. It was a fleeting touch but enough to send a jolt through my chest. He started scrolling through the movie options.

"What-"

"Phir Hera Pheri," I cut him off instantly, my voice a little too eager.

That made him smile a small, unguarded smile before he switched it on.

The familiar music of the film filled the room as we began eating, occasionally laughing at the dialogues.

It felt strangely domestic, almost normal, the kind of evening couples have without thinking too much about it.

But deep down I knew I was trying to avoid addressing the elephant in the room.

After dinner, he paused the movie and began clearing the plates. I watched silently as he stacked everything neatly, wiped the table clean and set the dishes back on the tray.

There was something different about him tonight. His usual tension, that invisible wall he always kept up, seemed to have faded. Here, away from Azamgarh, he looked softer and gentle. Almost human. Here he wasn't the heir of the Khan empire, here he is just Zaviyar.

He turned back and before I could process, he was striding toward me.

My breath caught when he leaned down. Too close, way too close.

I could feel the warmth of his breath fan against my face.

My mind went blank, panic and something else battling for control.

I shut my eyes tightly, praying he wasn't about to do whatever I thought he was about to do because, seriously, my mouth tasted like curry.

But instead of what I feared, I felt a soft brush at the corner of my lips. My eyes fluttered open and there he was, his thumb gently wiping off something from my lips.

It took a second for me to realize - it was chocolate syrup.

My gaze followed his hand and before I could react, he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean, his eyes never leaving mine.

The air left my lungs. My face flushed crimson. To say I turned red would be an understatement. I could feel my pulse quicken, heat crawling up my neck. Every part of me felt alive and melting at once.

He didn't say a word. Just turned, placed the cleaned tray outside the door and walked back in. Then, without hesitation, he plopped down on the bed beside me. This time, instead of resuming the movie, he picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

The sudden silence made my heart race faster.

"Tell me what's bothering you," he said, sitting upright now, his tone calm but firm.

"Nothing," I said too quickly. "And even if something is bothering me, it's none of your business." I turned away, pretending to adjust the pillow, not wanting him to see the turmoil behind my eyes.

"Ever since we've come here, you've been quiet. Too quiet, if I might add." His sigh followed, heavy and patient. "Everything related to you is my business, Safiya. I'm not trying to trouble you but if something's worrying you, I want to know."

He raked a hand through his hair, waiting for my response.

"Zaviyar," I began slowly, "forget that I'm your wife for a second and just think of me as a random girl. Would you take me out on a date-"

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked, frowning as he suddenly stood up and strode to the door.

"Why would I be in a room with a random girl?" he said, his tone carrying a hint of disgust or maybe disbelief. Then he lifted his left hand, pointing to his ring finger. "I'm married to my lawyer sahiba."

My stupid heart stuttered again. Okay, calm down. Calm down. Stupid heart.

God, I could actually kiss him right now or at least blow a kiss his way for that line.

"Wait, forget it. I'm your wife," I said quickly, patting the space beside me on the bed. "Come here. We need to talk about a few things."

He hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat beside me, facing me fully this time. From the start we fought like tomorrow and Jerry and now talking like civil humans surely felt weird.

"Adhira told me about how Akshat is her second husband," I said quietly. "And how her previous marriage ended."

He nodded, his expression unreadable, silently urging me to continue.

Clearing my throat, I asked the question that had been haunting me for days. "Is that how we'll end too, Zaviyar? Because honestly, I don't see any chemistry between us. It's been a month-"

"One month, three weeks, two days, and seven... no, eight minutes," he interrupted, checking his watch.

I blinked. "Whatever," I muttered. "It's been this long, and all we do is fight which, by the way, you start most of the time."

His frown deepened, but he stayed quiet. Maybe he knew I wasn't wrong.

"We avoid each other, or you wall-slam me and try to seduce me," I said, adjusting my position against the headboard, the frustration spilling out with every word.

"I always thought I don't need a man," I continued after a pause. "And it's true I don't. But I do need love... and care. I'm tired of being the one who always understands, who always has to be mature, who always fixes things."

My voice cracked slightly. "It's suffocating, Zaviyar. I feel alone in this marriage."

I looked down at my lap, tracing random patterns on my dress to keep myself from breaking. " I didn't want this marriage. You didn't want this marriage, and maybe you never will. So why are we wasting time pretending? Why don't we just separate? Why wait for an ending we already see coming?"

The silence that followed was unbearable.

That's when I felt something warm drop on my hand. I blinked and realized it was a tear.

And then another.

Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face uncontrollably.

No, not now. Not in front of him.

I'd promised myself I wouldn't break. That I wouldn't come off as weak. But here I was falling apart right where I shouldn't.

Why am I begging him to see me?

Why am I asking him to choose me... when I know he never wanted this in the first place?

"I tried- I tried to be mature after watching marriages destroy a girl's life.

I thought I could survive if I had my parents near me.

That marrying an unknown man would mean that I would have to give up my happiness.

I agreed to marry you so that my Baba, so that he doesn't need to face the society.

So that they could be near me." I wound my arms around myself, suddenly feeling small and overwhelmed, as if my words were spilling out faster than I could stop them.

"Thak gayi hu mein. Aur nahi ho raha mujhse.

I feel jealous... every time I see the way Akshat looks at Adhira.

Like she is his whole world. I feel jealous when she gets to boast about how much her husband loves her without her even asking for it.

And then there's me..." My voice cracked, my sobs turning into hysterical cries as I tried to control my breaths.

"I have to lie. I have to lie that your affection is what made me realise that I'm truly valued.

I have to lie that you love me, that you pamper me.

Mein bhi chahti hu ki koi mujhse pyaar karein.

.. I know that I am not the ideal type of girl anyone would want.

", I looked up only to see him looking at me with an unreadable expression.

Heat rushed to my face. I felt embarrassed, embarrassed for opening up, for being so raw. But I couldn't stop.

" Zulekha, she was really pretty. Aaj woh nhi bhaagi hoti touh you would have been happy with her.

Woh alag baat hain ki tum jese red flag bande ke saath rehne se achcha bhaag jaana hain.

", i unknowingly added the last part only to bite my tongue because this was supposed to be an emotional conversation. If only I could control my tongue.

"You have a shitty personality and I would never fall for that.

But I can't help it. I feel like I'm going crazy with these mixed feelings.

I don't want to beg for your love. I know I said that I don't need you to pity me but I.

.. just forget it," I whispered, hiding my face in my palms. My shoulders trembled under the weight of my confession.

"Tell me, Zaviyar... you obviously don't plan on continuing this marriage for your whole life, right? Then, let's just break it off. Tum mujhe talaq-"

Before I could utter another word, his palm pressed gently against my mouth.

"Shhh..." His voice was low, steady but his eyes burned with an intensity that made me look away. Slowly, he removed his hand and instead wrapped his fingers around mine, grounding me.

"Pehle aap rona tou band karein," he said softly, wiping my tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Mein royi nahi... meri aakhon mein kuch chala gaya," I muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. That's when I felt a sudden sting in my lower abdomen. My stomach dropped. Had I just gotten my period?

"Could you take me to the washroom?", He didn't say a word, just nodded.

I expected him to steady me by the shoulder but instead he lifted me up, his arms firm yet careful and walked straight into the bathroom.

He placed me gently on the edge of the bathtub, then flipped open the toilet seat for me.

"Uh-I'll wait outside. Do you need any other help?

" His voice wavered a little, his ears turning faintly pink.

The sight of his shyness almost made me smile.

I somehow managed to sit on the toilet, only to realise it was a false alarm.

Washing my hands, I felt the cramps building up, an ominous sign that by morning my period would arrive.Scratching my head, I called out for him.

"I'm coming in..." he announced before stepping back inside. I didn't know how to tell him I needed a pad. Me being the clumsy one, I'd already used up my emergency stash. The only option was to ask Khwaish or Adhira.

"What's wrong? Are you having an upset stomach?" he asked, seeing me clutching my abdomen.

"My period cramps. Could you get me a pad from Khwaish? Uhh, leave it-just call her here. She could get me one."

To my surprise, he didn't waste a second. He simply nodded and walked out, leaving me sitting there, waiting. He suddenly barged in again, lifted me up and placed me on the bed and then jogged out of the room. What just happened?

Minutes blurred. Then an hour. No sign of him. My eyelids grew heavy, but dread sat in my chest. My periods were unpredictable, sometimes manageable, sometimes a storm. When I had nothing planned, they arrived on schedule. But the moment I had a trip or an event? They made sure to ruin it.

I was half-asleep when the door slammed open.

Zaviyar walked in, slightly out of breath, with a large plastic bag in hand.

He handed me two smaller ones.

Inside the first, a packet of maxi pads, long-sized pads, a small one, a menstrual cup, and tampons.

Alongside them, heating pads, cooling patches, and lavender, clary sage and peppermint essential oils.

In the second bag, instead of the chocolates and ice cream I'd been expecting, there were pain medications most probably for cramps.

He'd gone out at night. To get these. All of these. I appreciate the gesture but where are the snacks the male lead usually brings for the female leads.

"I didn't know which-uh-which one to get so I got all of it," he said quietly when I looked up at him.

I nodded, speechless. Soon, I found myself in his arms again. To say I was enjoying this would be an understatement. Once again he left me seated on the edge of the bathtub and went out after closing the door behind him.

I took a pad, then washed my hands. I swallowed a menorec pill in case the cramps worsened-they always did. Leaning against the sink for support, I called out again.

"Zaviyarr-"

No response. I tried to walk out on my own but slipped on something wet on the floor, landing straight on my butt.

Pain shot up my spine and the ankle which was already hurting. To say I felt like crying would be an understatement. At that moment, I felt helpless. Dependent. Small.

__________________________________________

Zaviyar's POV

The aroma of hot chicken soup filled the air as I poured it carefully into a porcelain bowl, the steam rising in soft curls that fogged my vision for a second. I covered it with a lid, wanting to keep it warm, then placed it neatly on the tray.

I know she'll crave ice cream or chocolate-every woman does during this time but Khwaish had mentioned how those could cause bloating and inflammation.

So, instead, I prepared a yogurt bowl with fresh berries, a drizzle of honey and a few shavings of dark chocolate.

Something light, something sweet enough to lift her mood.

I even air-fried some rice crackers instead of chips.

The chicken soup, I thought, would give her warmth. Something nourishing. Something she wouldn't have to force down.

And honestly... I don't even know what got into me. This isn't me. I've never stood in a kitchen this long, let alone looked up tutorials to make soup from scratch. But something shifted inside me after overhearing that conversation between Adhira and Safiya earlier.

Yes, I heard them. Safiya didn't notice me , her back was turned but Adhira did. The way she looked at me when she spoke, like her words were meant to pierce right through me. And they did.

At that moment, I felt something I hadn't felt in years-shame. Shame because somehow, I had turned into the kind of man I'd always despised. The kind my mother would have loathed. The kind my sister used to warn me about.

For years, I blamed my upbringing. I blamed my grandfather.

He raised me to believe that power must be shown, that dominance keeps order.

That women... were fragile, emotional beings who needed direction, not freedom.

I never questioned it. Not until I went to the city, where the air itself seemed freer, where women spoke their minds without flinching.

I thought I'd changed back then. I thought I was different.

But somewhere along the way, I became empty again. Cold. And that coldness made me blind to who Safiya Shah really was.

Before our marriage, ignoring her was acceptable, it wasn't my duty to care. But now she's my wife. The woman whose world I've shaken apart without realizing the extent of the damage. The woman I should've protected, not broken.

Hearing her voice crack today, hearing the pain behind her words, it made something inside me fracture.

Ever since our marriage, I've been the storm in her life,nthe one thing she never asked for but was forced to survive.

And for what? For revenge? For a man who doesn't even deserve my hate anymore?

Because the truth is when I look at her, I don't see Wajahat Shah's daughter anymore. I see Safiya-my wife. The woman whose tears make my chest ache.

And maybe, just maybe, that's what Adhira was trying to tell me without saying a word.

I carried the tray upstairs, my steps quiet against the marble floor. The soup's aroma lingered behind me as I balanced the tray in one hand. But just as I reached our room, I saw Agastya walking down the hallway, smirking like he owned the world.

"Pampering your wife, huh? Din par din joru ke gulaam bante ja rahe ho," he teased, his voice laced with mischief.

"At least I have a wife to pamper, unlike you." I replied, deadpan, before slamming the door in his face.

Let him laugh. I didn't care. For the first time, I wanted to take care of someone. And that someone was her.

I placed the tray on the bedside table and looked around. The room was empty. The faint sound of water dripping from the tap echoed from the bathroom.

She must be inside.

"Safiya?" I called, knocking gently. "Are you in there?"

Silence.

A flicker of worry rose in my chest. I knocked again, louder this time. "Safiya-?"

There was no reply. Without thinking further, I pushed the door open. And what I saw made my heart lurch.

She was sitting against the wall of the bathtub, her head resting on her knees, her arms limp at her sides.

"Safiya..."

I rushed forward, dropping to my knees, lifting her face carefully. Her eyes were moist, her lashes clumped with tears that refused to fall. A single tear slid down her cheek, landing softly on her hand.

Something in me cracked like a fault line I'd been ignoring had finally given way.

I scooped her up in my arms, holding her as if she were made of glass, and carried her to the bed. Her body felt cold against mine, fragile yet warm in a way that made me feel undeserving.

I placed her gently on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

I've told myself again and again that she is nothing but a reminder of the past, of betrayal, of the lies that destroyed everything. I thought distance would protect me. That if I stayed cold, she couldn't reach me.

But seeing her like this, broken, trembling. It shattered every wall I'd built. I hate her father. I always will. But how do I explain this ache that grows every time I see her in pain? How do I fight the urge to protect the very person I once swore to destroy?

Maybe I can't anymore. Maybe I don't want to.

Because against every vow I made to my grandfather, every principle I claimed to uphold... I want to give us a chance. Even if it ruins me.She lifted her head then, her voice small yet sharp enough to cut through the silence.

"I don't want kids," she said suddenly, her gaze locked on mine.

For a moment, I just stared at her, trying to understand where that came from. "O-okay," I managed to say, unsure of what she was thinking.

Heh? Yeh ladki paagal hai kya?

She frowned. "Don't you want kids?"

"I never thought about kids," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. How was I supposed to handle her when even her mood swings scared me? How would I ever handle children?

"I won't say I don't want them at all," I reasoned. "But it's up to you completely."

Her eyes widened. "Toh tumhe bachche nahi chahiye? Kya iska matlab mein virgin marungi?"

I blinked, nearly choking on air. "Maine aisa nahi kaha ki I don't want kids at all. And Safiya, we are in the 21st century, contraceptives are an option hmm" I replied, but she was already gaping at me.

" Funny how a 18th century nawab is telling me this. ", she said sarcastically.

"Ek second-tum bhi virgin ho? Fuck. Matlab tum bhi meri tarah hi inexperienced ho-"

Heat rushed to my face. I quickly placed my palm over her mouth before she could say more. "Safiya, bas!"

How did we go from emotional bonding to... this?

I turned her face side to side, inspecting like a fool. "Kahi sar par chot tou nahi lag gaya? Ya yeh period cramps bol rahe hain?"

"Zaviyar-"

"Kuch cheezein bina experience ke bhi aati hain, Safiya. Ab yeh chicken soup piyo."

She blinked up at me, lips twitching into a small smile, and obediently took the bowl. Watching her eat in silence felt strangely comforting. I didn't realise how much I'd missed this quiet, the kind that didn't come from anger but from understanding.

When she finished, I handed her a heating pad and a cooling patch, placing them beside her. Then I stood up, taking the tray to the kitchen.

Behind me, her voice came again, soft but mischievous.

"Toh iska matlab hai hum woh sab karenge? Like-" She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

I nearly tripped. Therapy. Yes, that's what we both needed. Definitely therapy.

Because I didn't know what to do with this woman, this chaotic, sharp-tongued, stubborn woman who somehow made my chest ache and my heart soften every single time she looked at me.

And maybe that's exactly why I couldn't let her go.

" Haan hum woh sab karenge lekin abhi ke liye aap khud ek bachchi hain. We are not having kids anytime soon, not until we sort out our feelings first, " I said, glaring at her when she tried to keep the garlic and carrots aside from the soup.

She pouted, mumbling something under her breath before stuffing her mouth again and for a second, I had to look away.

The way her cheeks puffed out, her lips pursed, and her brows scrunched in mock anger, she looked so ridiculously cute that my chest tightened.

Her cheeks were soft and flushed pink, a little swollen from the cold, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to lean forward and bite them-

Astaghfirullah!

No!

Stop acting like some hormonal teenager.

I exhaled, shaking my head to clear the thought. When she was done eating, I took her plate from her hand and went to the kitchen to keep them away anything to distract myself from the dangerous thoughts circling in my head.

____ I didn't have the energy to argue. I nodded faintly. " Close your eyes, " I muttered.

He obeyed instantly, turning his face away as I lifted my nightdress up to my abdomen. I was wearing shorts underneath, so it was fine, but still the intimacy of the moment made me pull the blanket up to my waist.

" Okay... you can look now, " I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once and slowly poured a little oil onto my stomach. His palms, warm and rough, pressed gently against my skin. Firm, steady, careful. I exhaled, the pain easing just slightly under his touch.

" Why are your eyes still closed? " I asked after a moment.

" I thought you might be uncomfortable if I looked, " he replied, his voice soft, a little embarrassed.

His ears were red again that same shy flush he tried so hard to hide.

Something inside me softened.

His touch wasn't lustful this time.

It wasn't hungry or impatient. It was gentle, healing.

The way his hands moved in slow circles, applying pressure to the right spots, easing the ache away, it felt like his touch carried something unspoken, something he didn't know how to say in words.

The warmth of his palms spread through me, quieting the pain. My body began to relax, my breath slowing. A small, involuntary sound escaped my lips, and I froze but he didn't react. He just kept his eyes closed, his movements calm, focused.

He looked almost boyish like that- eyes shut tight, lips pressed together in concentration as if he were following instructions from memory.

The pain dulled, then faded and before I realized it, sleep crept over me.

The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the faint warmth of his hand resting protectively on my waist.