But so am I. I am her husband. I’m not asking for too much. I just want to know if she’s okay.
"Stop lying to me!" I snap, my patience finally breaking. "I know something’s wrong! You flinched when I touched you. And now you’re wincing. I can see the pain in your eyes, even if you won’t admit it." Her eyes widen at my outburst, but she doesn’t back down.
"There’s nothing wrong," she replies stubbornly. "I’m just tired." I step closer, backing her up until her back hits the wall.
"Shivani, I hate lies," I remind her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’ve mentioned that already." I look at her intently, and she gulps.
"Either you tell me..." I pause, leaning in closer, "or—" I smirk bitterly, "Actually, there’s no ‘or.’" I press my body against hers, firm and demanding. "Let's talk when you are ready to tell me whatever the fuck you are hiding." I whisper in her ear. I know it’s emotional blackmail, but she’s hurting. She’s not sharing it with anyone. And I am her husband—her other half—so why does she get to bear the pain alone? She has to share it with me. She has to learn that.
Her eyes flutter shut as my lips graze hers. I inhale her scent as I nibble on her bottom lip, and she gasps softly againstmy mouth. I press my lips more firmly against hers, exploring her mouth with slow, deliberate movements. Her body relaxes slightly beneath mine, melting into my touch.
I break the kiss, breathing heavily.
"Come on, baby. Share with me," I murmur softly, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling. Her eyes open, and she meets my eyes. I can almost hear the battle going on in her head, and for a moment, there’s hope. I think she might finally open up. But her silence is deafening.
My frustration grows. I feel like we are trapped in a time loop, me asking if everything's alright, her replying yes despite the obvious agony in her eyes.
"Okay," I say, masking my disappointment with coldness. I step back. Cold air engulfing me. "So that’s how it is." I give her one last lingering look before walking into the bedroom.
I sit on my side of the bed, a pang of loneliness settling in my chest as I lie down.
My eyes wander up at the ceiling. The room is silent; the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second seems to drag on forever, as if time itself is punishing me.
She’s still on the balcony, alone with her thoughts. Is she thinking about me? Is she hurting too? I toss and turn, but my mind won’t shut off.
"Damn it," I mutter aloud. I look at the clock and see that it’s been an hour since I left her standing out there. Instantly, I turn to my side, staring at the empty space beside me. It feels strange, uncomfortable, and incomplete without her.
I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep. But it’s impossible. My body aches for her presence. I can't sleep whenmy wife is suffering. My arms miss her warmth. Should I go and bring her back?
No, I will wait. If there's even a slight chance of me winning this battle I am having with her brain, I will take it. I lie there, restless. The darkness feels heavier without her beside me.
I hear the soft padding of feet on the floor; it's her footsteps. I have memorized them. I freeze. Listening. She’s coming. A wave of relief crashes over me. But I keep still. I don’t want her to know how much her absence has affected me.
She walks in slowly, each step hesitant, unsure. I don’t turn to look. I feel her sit on the bed. Her side of the mattress dips slightly.
She’s quiet.
But I feel her eyes on me. Studying me. Probably trying to figure out if I’m asleep. Despite the tension, her nearness soothes something inside me, and then the tension eases in my shoulders. I move just slightly—enough for her to know I’m awake.
"I’m scared," she admits softly. Her voice is hoarse—probably from crying. I turn around to face her. Our eyes meet, and all that facade of coldness I was wearing fades. She lies down beside me, facing away. I reach out and wrap my arm around her waist, intertwining our legs. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it, trying to reassure her that I’m here.
A sob escapes her lips, and I run my hand gently down her back—she winces again, and I pull my hand away instantly. She's hurt; how, I don't know, but she's hurt.
"Why are you scared, darling?" I ask slowly.
35
SHIVANI
I turn towards him and snuggle into his chest; I can't bear to look at him right now. As I lean into his warmth, I can hear his heartbeat. It’s the only sound keeping me from spiraling, from breaking down. I don’t want to panic or overthink. I don’t want to lose him too. But he said he won’t talk to me unless I tell him everything. And more than that… he’s always been there for me. No one’s ever done that before. He’s not asking for much—he just cares about me; that’s why he wants to know. He’s not being polite. He’s being honest, and the least I can do for him is tell him the truth.
But the problem is… last time, I made him promise he wouldn’t do anything, and he still went ahead and bought those stupid shares. If I tell him everything now, I don’t know what he’ll do.
But it's enough; I need help. I can’t keep going on like this—being their ragdoll. I have the option to tell Rudra everything, and I know he’ll save me. I’m sure of that. But I don’t want his life to be at risk. Father said he’d kill him. The threat, it rings in my head, and I suck in a sharp breath.
My heart races at the thought of losing him. Tears slip past my lashes, and I shut my eyes.
I can’t keep crying.
