I inhale, letting the cold night air bite at my skin. All along our marriage, I never cared enough to untangle the real reason I married Meera. I kept convincing myself that the reason—whether revenge, protection, or some twisted sense of need—didn’t matter, as long as I had her with me.
But now I’m done twisting it. I love her. I love my wife. And every time she looks at me with those furious eyes that soften for a heartbeat before she turns away, I feel it. Every time her breath hitches when I touch her or even come close, I know she feels something too. She just refuses to admit it.
That’s fine. I’ve broken stronger walls than this, and I’ll break this one too, patiently, until she finally understands that she’s mine… and that loving me is a truth she can’t keep running from.
Pulling in a breath, I push off the railing and walk back into the room, only to find it empty. My heartbeat slams hard in my chest. It’s ten at night.Where the hell did Meera go?
I rush out of the room and scan the hallway, the stairs, and the kitchen. Each empty corner tightens the fear around my throat.This woman will be the death of my sanity,I growl under my breath.
Just then, I hear her voice drifting from the backyard. I immediately head towards it, and when I finally see her, a deep breath rushes out of me.
She’s standing with her back to me, phone pressed to her ear, the night breeze pushing her hair over one shoulder. Relief loosens my lungs, but the calm lasts only for a second, because her next words slice straight through it.
“Samarth, I’m not discussing my divorce again. When the time is right, I will,” she says, her voice strained.
My hands clench at my sides. I warned that fucking asshole not to even think about bringing up the worddivorcearound my wife, but some people only learn the hard way.
I’m about to storm over, snatch the phone from her hand, and remind that asshole he’s counting his breaths, when Meera ends the call. Her shoulders sag, and she sinks onto the swing, clutching her injured wrist as she stares ahead, lost in thought.
I stay rooted in place, forcing myself to breathe, to let the rage drain from my muscles before I do something I can’t undo. And through it all, my eyes never leave her… the woman whose mere presence is enough to steady me, no matter what torment I’m drowning in.
A few seconds slip by before my feet carry me towards her.
“You need to stay the hell away from that journalist friend of yours,” I say, stopping beside the swing.
She glares up at me. “You don’t get to control that.”
“I’m not trying to control,” I growl, every instinct in me screaming to rip her phone from her hand and crush it, but I don’t. “I’m protecting my marriage. I won’t stand by while you keep your friendship with a man who is threatening it. That bloody loser.” I bite out the last word with disgust.
“Let me be perfectly clear.” She springs to her feet, the swing lurching behind her. “He can’t break something that doesn’t exist. Our marriage is nothing but a lie.”
“Our marriage is not a lie,” I reply, each word measured but edged with fire.
She scoffs bitterly. “Of course it is. You married me for revenge, and I married you because I had no choice. Don’t twist it just because you’ve suddenly decided to play the part of a caring husband for God knows what game now.”
I draw in a breath, then drop onto the swing and reach for her wrist. My thumb traces over the swollen area. “You’re wrong. I’m not twisting anything. And I sure as hell am not pretending to care. Trust me, I don’t waste this kind of effort on someone I don’t give a damn about.”
She twitches under my touch but doesn’t pull away.
“You really need to cut ties with him. He’s selfish, irritating, and somehow manages to annoy me just by existing.”
She jerks her hand away with a wince. “Trust me, Dev, every single one of those adjectives fits you perfectly. Not him.”
“Every time you defend him, it fucking kills me, sweetheart.” I rise to my feet, towering over her. “But you know what? I am done watching this. I will protect my marriage. And I’ll make sure your little friendship with him ends. You’re not meeting him again.”
Her face freezes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She exhales sharply. “Newsflash, Dev. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I am not telling you what to do. I am telling you what not to do. You will not meet him. That’s all.”
“I am not taking orders from you,” she snaps, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And Iwillmeet him. In fact, I am going to work tomorrow, and Iwillsee him.”
My jaw flexes hard. “You’re not going to work tomorrow.”
“Of course. This is exactly why I don’t believe a word of your so-called concern. This is what I’ve been saying. You pretend to care when it suits your convenience. First my parents, then my friendships, and now even my work. This marriage—” she breaks off, shaking her head, “is nothing but your way of intimidating me at every chance you get.”
