And yeah… it makes me jealous. I’m her husband. I should be the reason she blushes like that, not some fictional guy in a suit with a tragic backstory.
My gaze lands on the book she was reading last night. It's lying on the balcony chair, forgotten. I pick it up and run my thumb across the worn cover. The pages are dog-eared, the spine slightly cracked—clear signs of love. I hesitate. Then tuck it into my briefcase. Maybe I’ll read it. Just to understand what it is that draws her in so deeply.
I find her in the kitchen with Chachi. She’s holding two small boxes—probably sweets. Maa must’ve insisted. There’s no way she’d let Shivani return home empty-handed.
She hugs Maa and Chachi tightly, her voice soft. “I’m going to miss everyone.”
Maa chuckles, shaking her head. “You’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Chachi adds with a teasing grin, “And you're going to your parents’ house. You won’t miss us at all.”
There’s a pause. Shivani doesn’t say anything for a second—just stands there with a faint smile. Then she nods. “You’re right. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
But her voice… It doesn’t match the smile on her face. It sounds rehearsed. Like she’s reminding herself to believe it.
She walks over to me and reaches for her bag, but I narrow my eyes in warning. Nice try. If she thinks she’ll carry anything while I’m around, she’s clearly forgotten who she married.
After a chorus of goodbyes, we finally reached the car, and she slowly slid into the passenger seat. Painfully slow.
The drive is silent.
She stares out the window, her fingers tapping against her thigh, and then her leg starts bouncing slightly. The nervous energy is radiating off her in waves. I can’t take it.
I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh.
“You know,” I mutter with my eyes still on the road, “you'll wear out the window if you keep staring at it like that.”
Her head snaps towards me, eyes widening with surprise. But I keep my eyes on the road. It’s not about words. It’s about letting her know I see her—even when she thinks she’s hiding everything perfectly.
Silence greets me as her answer, and I tilt my head with my jaw tightening. My left hand works swiftly as I shift the gear with a practiced ease and accelerate the car.
When we pull up in front of her house, she’s the first to open the door. I get out to help her, but she beats me to her bag. Before she can walk away, I reach out and wrap my fingers around her wrist, stopping her.
“If you feel like coming back home,” I say, voice low, steady, “you call me. I don’t care what time it is. You call me.”
She opens her mouth to argue, her brows drawing together, but I gently press a finger to her lips before she can speak. She stares at me, annoyed, maybe, but I can see something else in her eyes too. A quiet desperation. A longing.
She pulls her wrist free and nods.
Then she turns and walks through the gate.
And I just stand there, watching her go, that unease in my chest growing with every step she takes away from me.
It feels wrong in every possible way. Like I’ve just left something precious in a place it doesn’t belong. But I don't stop her. They say home is where the heart is. But as I watch her disappear behind the gates, I wonder if that place ever held hers.
Instead I get into the car and drive to the office, my hands tight on the steering wheel, jaw clenched, thoughts running wild. It's fine; she is just at her parents' home.
Well, that's the dreading part.
I have a meeting in twenty minutes, and all I can think about is her.
I don’t trust that house. And I don’t trust the people in it. But what terrifies me more… is that she might not call.
20
SHIVANI
I hear Rudraksh drive away, and guilt settles in my chest like a weight I can’t shake off. It wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want to come here, and I had been annoyed with him for no real reason. I didn’t even say goodbye properly. He must have been hurt… maybe even angry. I wouldn’t blame him if he was. I’d hurt him without meaning to—and that makes it worse.
