Aditya studies my face carefully. “You left him with three adults and a cake.”
“I know.”
“Divya.”
“I just feel like I should go.” He doesn’t move.
He just keeps looking at me.
And the longer he looks the harder it becomes to hold the smile on my face.
“Something happened,” he says quietly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I shake my head.
“I’m fine.”
He reaches for my hand. His fingers close around mine firmly. “Come with me.”
“Aditya—”
“Please.”
There’s something in his voice that makes arguing pointless. He leads me down the hallway and up the staircase toward the offices. The building is quieter here. The sounds of the party fade behind us.
He opens a door and steps inside. His office. He closes the door gently behind us. Then he turns toward me. “Now tell me what happened.”
I look down at my hands.
“Nothing.”
“Divya.”
“Really.”
He takes a step closer. “You’re shaking.”
I hadn’t noticed until he said it. But now I do. The room feels smaller suddenly. The pressure inside my chest builds until I can barely breathe. He reaches out and cups my face gently.
“Talk to me.” The kindness in his voice breaks something inside me.
My vision blurs. “I heard something in the washroom.”
His expression sharpens.
“What?”
I swallow. I take a shaky breath. “Men like you don’t marry girls like me unless there’s a reason.”
The words feel even worse saying them out loud. I look away from him. My voice trembles despite my effort to keep it steady, "what if marrying me started as kindness…and now he’s just making the best of it?"
I swallow the lump in my throat, “What if you just feel responsible for me?” I inhale deeply, “what if you’re only staying because you’re too kind to admit you’re stuck?”
The tears come before I can stop them. “If that’s true…” I whisper, “I’ll let you go.”
