Page 18 of Mrs. Rathore

And my everything.

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Chapter 6

ARYAN

“Can you just get me a fucking painkiller? My head’s splitting,” I growled at my cousin, who was too busy flirting with his latest prey to even care. I didn’t know when he’d snap out of his damn delusions. If he wasn’t lost in thoughts of fighter jets, he was off somewhere chasing the shadows of his dark fantasies.

“I told you an hour ago to bring me that shit.”

“I forgot, bro,” Saurav muttered, glancing past my shoulder. I followed his gaze, and my jaw clenched the moment I saw what had caught his attention. He was watching Avni's friend who was kneeling in front of her wheelchair, laughing.

“Don’t even think about screwing her,” I snapped, my voice low and threatening. “Or you’ll end up just like me.”

He chuckled, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let me remind you, I’m not a saint but I’m a fucking Satan.” With that, he sauntered off, leaving me to shake my head in disgust.

When I turned back around, I froze.

Ira stood before me.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, my eyes involuntarily sweeping over her. She looked stunning, draped in a shimmering purple sequined lehenga. The off-shoulder blouse clung to her perfectly, her dupatta effortlessly draped over herarms like she was born to own every damn runway. Was she doing this on purpose? To remind me of what I’d lost?

Because hell, I’d lost everything.

“You look breathtaking,” I whispered, unable to meet her eyes. Shame was a bitter thing, and it had me in a chokehold.

“So do you,” she said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. The touch made me look at her. Those eyes, God, those eyes held pain, disappointment, and heartbreak.

“Don’t look away from me,” she nearly pleaded.

“Ira…” I licked my dry lips, drinking in the sight of her face like it was the last time I’d ever seen it. And maybe it was. The thought alone made my chest ache. “I’m sorry…”

There was so much I wanted to say, but no perfect words to say it. Everything I could possibly say would hurt her more. I was supposed to make her the happiest woman in the world and instead, I made her feel like the most unfortunate one.

She didn’t speak. She simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, resting her cheek against my chest. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs.

I held her tightly, gently stroking her back. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve me. I would rewrite the past a thousand times just to make her happy. She was my happiness… but it had been ripped away.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she whispered, voice breaking, “if you ever truly loved me, Aryan…”

My breath hitched. I clenched my fists.

She pulled back, and my heart sank at the sight of her swollen, tear-stained eyes.

“Tell me, Aryan… do you still love me?” Her voice cracked. “I saw you taking vows with her. I watched you fasten my necklace around her neck. It was like someone ripped the soul from my body and left me hollow.”

“Ira…” I cupped her face, wiping her tears with my thumb. Then I pressed my forehead gently to hers. “I never stopped loving you. Nothing...nothing...has changed that. Every tear you cry only makes me hate myself more. I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

A broken smile touched her lips through the tears. “I thought you were an asshole to the world… but turns out, I’m part of that world too.”

Shit.

A sharp throat-clear snapped us back to reality. We turned to find Rhea standing with my so-called wife and her two friends, all watching us like we were the drama they didn’t pay for but were thrilled to witness.

“You’re married, bro,” Rhea said coldly, glaring at me with disappointment burning in her eyes.

I rolled my eyes. Since when did she start taking her side?