Page 133 of Mrs. Rathore

Jealousy crept in, slow and suffocating. I hated how easily Prashant made her smile. I hated that she let him. But most of all, I hated the way it made me feel like I was never enough.

The wheel climbed higher, but my heart had already sunk below the glittering fairgrounds.

“Are you even listening to me?” Ira asked, grabbing my hand to snap me out of it.

“Yeah… sorry, what were you saying?”

Ira rolled her eyes. “Avni seems to be enjoying Prashant’s company, doesn’t she?”

I gave her a bitter smile, saying nothing.

Suddenly, the Ferris wheel sped up, jerking slightly. Ira gasped and grabbed my t-shirt, trying to steady her slender frame. I laughed at her startled expression and squeezed her hand.

“I think I shouldn’t have come!” she shouted over the wind, her hair whipping across her face. Her nails dug into my skin, but I didn’t let go. Her reaction was priceless, and oddly, it made me laugh.

“Oh my God, Aryan. This is more exciting than sex!” she huffed, wide-eyed.

And I burst out laughing.

_____

Chapter 54

AVNI

My hands clenched at the sight before me as Aryan and Ira on the Ferris wheel, seated together, his arm loosely cradling her as she leaned against him with her eyes closed. She looked peaceful and he looked comfortable.

And me? I sat with Prashant, my supposed friend, who was more attentive than my own husband.

Aryan hadn’t spoken a word to me since the morning. Yes, we toured the amber forts and ancient stepwells, even posed for a few photos together hand in hand, for the world’s sake. But his silence cut deeper than any cruelty. He never asked if I was tired, never offered me water, never glanced my way as the sun beat down on us.

It was Prashant who handed me a bottle, who asked if I was okay sitting at the edge, if the wind was too much, if my scarf was flying. My childhood friend who treated me with the bare minimum kindness my husband couldn’t be bothered with.

And Aryan? He let Ira sleep on his shoulder. He didn’t even glance back to offer me a seat beside him. No, I was left leaning against the cold metal of the window like I didn’t exist.

I wasn’t his priority. I was just his wife behind closed doors, a woman he made love to in the dark, and whispered sweet nothings to only when no one was around. Outside those walls, I was just another body in the group as invisible as air.

The ride to the hotel was silent. When we arrived, our keys were handed out, and everyone cheered at the idea of having their own space to unwind. Everyone except us. We were married, after all as expected to share one room, share a bed.

I didn’t want to. Not tonight and not after watching him act like a detached stranger all day.

“Goodnight, Avi,” Prashant said, brushing my shoulder gently. His smile lingered, warm and platonic.

I returned it faintly. “Goodnight.”

Saurav, however, couldn’t help himself.

“Goodnight, you two,” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows. “Have some fun, okay? I brought extra condoms and a mini bottle of oil if anyone’s in the mood for a... massage.”

Aryan’s jaw tightened like a clamp. “Get out of my sight before I give you a massage,” he growled, his voice laced with steel.

Then he grabbed my wrist firmly and dragged me to our room. He didn’t say a word until we were inside.

The door slammed shut.

He threw his bag to the floor and turned toward me, arms folded tightly across his broad chest, jaw flexing. His gaze burned through me.

“As long as I live, Avni, you will never let another man put his hands on you.”