Page 79 of Mrs. Rathore

"Where were you that day?" I asked before I could stop myself. I hadn't meant to bring it up; I hadn't even realized the question was forming until it left my mouth.

"I went to Ira's," he replied flatly. "She was discharged that day. Mrs. Solanki needed my help since her father and brother are abroad for business."

He glanced at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road. "I intended to stay there longer. But then Grandma called me, asking about you."

"What did you tell her?" I asked, though I already knew the answer wouldn't be good.

"I told her the truth," he said, sighing. A long, and tired breath as if even the memory of that conversation exhausted him. "That's when she lost it. She said things I wish I could forget."

There was a pause, and then he added in a low voice, "I never liked the idea of this honeymoon. You know that."

"I know, Aryan..." I murmured, turning my face toward the window to hide the sting in my chest. I wasn't sure what hurt more: his words or the fact that he meant them.

After a long moment, I asked quietly, "Is Ira okay?"

"She's fine," he replied.

"I feel terrible for texting her like that," I admitted. "I didn't mean to be so cruel. I don't even know why I said those things. I think... I should apologize."

"No," he said immediately, not loud, but firm, like a warning. I turned to look at him in surprise, but his eyes never left the road. "I don't want you to apologize. Because she doesn't think it was you who sent those texts."

My eyes widened. "What? She doesn't know it was me? Why didn't you tell her?"

"Because it would only make things worse," he said, his voice calm but distant. "It's better this way."

"She's going to hate you for it," I said softly.

"She already does," he muttered. "And I'd rather let her hate me than have her hate you too."

I blinked at him, stunned. "Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately.

As I looked at him, my breath caught in my throat. Aryan had such a heartbreakingly handsome face that it made it hard to look away, even when I knew I had no right to admire him. He wore a fitted black shirt with pale slacks, the contrast complementing the warm gold undertone of his skin. His dark hair was combed back with effortless precision, and a shadow of stubble dusted his sculpted jawline, making him look even more devastatingly masculine.

"Why what?" he asked at last, frowning slightly as he glanced at me again. For the briefest second, our eyes met and held. The moment froze, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. A pause. A question or heat.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone. And I was left staring at a man who wasn't mine, never had been... and perhaps never would be.

I quickly looked away and released a long, shaky breath, one I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. Only now did I understand what that phrase "holding your breath" truly meant. My lungs burned with relief, and my heart thudded quietly in the tense silence between us.

Of course Aryan was good-looking. More than that, he was effortlessly magnetic. He was charming to the world, composed, and always a gentleman. But to me... he was something entirely different. Complicated. Distant. Sharp-edged. And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if I had always found him attractive. Maybe I had and just buried it under layers of resentment.

"Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them.

Aryan's eyes snapped to me, visibly taken aback. "Excuse me?"

I stared ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. "You act like you're embarrassed to walk beside me. And I know this might sound cruel, but a part of me feels... satisfied that you're not getting the life you dreamed of, just like I didn't get the life I dreamed of after my accident." My voice faltered. "But carrying all of this alone... It's not as easy as it looks."

"I'm not ashamed of you, Avni," he said, his voice clipped and cold. "I kept my distance because I thought you didn't want me near. You flinch every time I touch you. You jump when I speak."

"That's because you never say anything kind," I shot back, biting down on my lip. "And the only times you touch me... It's to hurt me."

He let out a sarcastic breath. "So now you want me to touch you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear?"

"Of course not!" I snapped, my face burning.

"Then how long did the doctor say you need to avoid sexual activity?" he asked suddenly, his voice deceptively calm.