Page 76 of Mrs. Rathore

“You don’t sound convincing,” he said softly. “I’ve known you for too long, Avi. I can sense when you’re not okay.”

“You’re overthinking it, Mr. Pandey,” I murmured, turning to lie on my side and pressing the phone tighter against my ear. “Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”

“Sure,” he said with a gentle chuckle. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I was in a relationship, but we broke up three months ago.”

“Lucky girl,” I teased. “What do you do now?”

“I got a job. A decent one.”

“So… did you miss me?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Yes, I did. And I still do…” he laughed softly.

We talked like old friends, lost in memory and make-believe, for almost an hour until I realized it was time for my medicine.

After a soft goodbye, I hung up, smiling like a silly teenager.

Then the guilt crept in. Slow, quiet, heavy.

I stared at the phone, his warmth still glowing in my chest, fighting the cold grip of reality.

My husband’s face as his silence and distance lingered at the edge of my mind. I knew our marriage wasn’t real, but it still didn’t feel right to talk to another man. It wasn’t that I was being unfaithful, but I couldn’t stop feeling guilty toward Aryan. I had forced him into this marriage while he loved someone else, and now I was regretting it more with each passing moment.

I sighed, heart aching, and reached for my medicine, trying to swallow more than just the pills.

_______

Chapter 28

AVNI

I frowned as a tall, dark shadow loomed over me like a ghost. My heart lurched, and I jolted upright in bed, a gasp escaping my throat. But as my eyes adjusted, my pulse began to slow. It was Aryan.

My relief faded quickly; he wasn’t just standing there but he was glowering.

His face was stone-cold and furious. The muscles in his jaw twitched, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was struggling to control the urge to hit something or someone. His eyes, usually unreadable, now blazed with unfiltered rage.

When had he returned? And why was he looking at me like I had just committed a crime?

I swallowed hard. “When did you get back?” I asked, my voice hoarse from sleep and a dry throat.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he took a step closer, and his nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.

“I don’t know what the hell you want from me… what you want from us,” he bit out, his voice low and rough like gravel. “Every time I think things might be normal, you ruin it. You just… steal my peace like a damn thief.”

I blinked at him, stunned. What was he even talking about?

First, he had disappeared, leaving me stranded in this strange place without a word. And now he was back, yelling at me as if I had burned his house down.

I stared at him, still blocking my path, towering over me with his strong, broad frame. I needed space. I needed to breathe.

“What happened now?” I asked quietly, trying to remain calm. My body wanted to scream and shove him away, but instead, I shifted toward the edge of the bed, attempting to slip past him.

He didn’t move. Instead, he slid even closer, casting a shadow that enveloped me completely, as if he wanted me to feel trapped. His eyes smoldered with rage and betrayal, but I had no idea what had triggered it.