Page 30 of Mrs. Rathore

He wheeled me away, down a quiet hallway, until we were completely alone. When he stopped and came around to face me, there was no warmth in his eyes, only a cold, calculating shadow.

“Listen,” he said flatly. “My grandmother doesn’t know this marriage is a sham. She thinks you and I are real. She doesn’t know about Ira either, she just thinks we’re friends. So from now on, you’ll keep your mouth shut. We’ll act like a couple in front of her. You’ll do exactly what I say. Understand?”

I scoffed, glaring up at him. “As far as I remember, I’m not your pet. I’ll do what I want, honey. I’m not in the habit of taking orders.”

His jaw twitched, and his voice dropped, threatening. “You’ll follow them if you don’t want me to split those pretty lips of yours. I’d hate to ruin that face... but don’t push me.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? You’d hit me?”

“I don’t hit women,” he said coolly, “but I know other ways to make my point.”

A flicker of something darker passed through his eyes as he leaned down, his breath brushing my cheek.

“You don’t know the obligations of a good wife yet,” he whispered. “But I won’t mind teaching you. Don’t test my patience, Mrs. Ballerina. I’m not known for having any.”

I inhaled sharply, my heart pounding. Just then, I spotted Ira approaching from the corridor, her eyes zeroing in on us.

“I need to pee,” I blurted.

“What?” Aryan frowned.

“I really have to go now. Take me, please.”

“I’ll ask Rhea to...”

“No!” I clutched his wrist. “Please. I can’t wait.”

He exhaled a sharp breath and, with a frustrated grunt, scooped me into his arms. He carried me effortlessly, his expression unreadable.

As we passed Ira, I caught the flicker of pain and jealousy in her eyes. Her arms dropped to her sides, fists clenched. I hoped she screamed and thrashed at him later. Maybe then he'd understand what it felt like to be discarded. I bit back a smile.

Then I noticed Aryan staring down at me.

“What the hell are you smiling for?” he asked, annoyed, setting me down gently on the toilet seat. He straightened up, watching me closely. “Now, do you want me to take off your panties too?”

I blinked, stunned.

“Are you serious?” I asked once I found my voice.

“I wish I wasn’t.” He smirked, cocky and arrogant. After a moment, he turned toward the door. “I’ll send Rhea with your wheelchair.”

The door shut behind him, and I heard his footsteps fade.

I sighed and buried my face in my hands, feeling something heavy twist inside me. I didn’t want to feel anything for Aryan. My only goal was to make him regret every choice he made but why did I feel this strange pull whenever he was close? It made no sense.

I shut my eyes and shook my head. “God, please help me,” I whispered.

A sudden knock at the bathroom door made me jump.

“Bhabhi, are you there?” Rhea called gently from outside the bathroom door.

“Yes. Can you please bring my crutches? I want to walk out myself,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

A moment later, Rhea stepped inside with the crutches. She handed them to me and helped me settle back into the wheelchair. I bit back the frustration burning inside me. I hated this being so dependent, so helpless. Like I was trapped in a body that no longer belonged to me. The doctors said recovery would take at least two months, but it already felt like forever.

“Ready?” she asked softly. I gave a faint nod, and she wheeled me out. The pooja had already begun. She helped me sit beside Aryan, who didn't even glance my way.

A red dupatta was draped over my head. The priest began chanting mantras as the incense smoke curled upward. I noticed Ira sitting on Aryan’s other side, her eyes closed, trying hard to focus on the rituals but her gaze kept drifting toward us.

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