Page 80 of Mrs. Rathore

I turned to him, scandalized. "That's none of your business."

"It is my business if I'm the one paying for your private doctor and physiotherapist," he replied, not missing a beat.

"Why don't you ask him yourself, then?"

"I would," he said, "but I think he'd find it strange that your husband is asking questions you should already know the answers to."

"Well, for the record," I said sharply, "I have no intention of sleeping with you."

He scoffed. "And yet you're the one who started talking about being seen next to me."

"I didn't mean it that way..."

"Relax," he interrupted. "I'm not going to touch you."

Something about the way he said it stung, as if I were undesirable...like the thought of being physically close to me repulsed him.

"You find me unattractive, don't you?" I asked quietly, uncertain why I needed to hear his answer.

"Women," he groaned. "They turn everything into a problem. If I touch you, it's a problem; if I don't touch you, it's still a problem. If I give you space, now I'm ashamed. Who designed this species?"

"Shut up," I retorted, unable to hide the flicker of a smile. "Women are the most beautiful creatures in the world."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I can see how beautifully you turned my life upside down. I can't thank you enough."

Before I could respond, his phone chimed. The screen lit up with a name that made my heart twist: Ira.

His face softened instantly. His lips curved into a smile as he answered the call, his voice dipping into a warmth I hadn't heard in days.

"Hey..." he said gently, listening intently to the voice on the other end. "Are you okay? Is it hurting?"

He paused again, listening with care. "Don't worry. I know a few great doctors. I'll make some calls and get you in touch with the best."

I turned my face to the window again, pretending to watch the trees blur past, but I wasn't really seeing anything.

I was listening.

To a voice that sounded nothing like the Aryan I knew: soft, affectionate, concerned. I couldn't help but compare, and I hated that I did. The way he spoke to her was so different from how he spoke to me.

But I had no right to feel this way. Aryan and Ira were always meant to be. I was the one who tore them apart. If Aryan hadn't hit me that night, if everything hadn't spiraled out of control, we would have gone our separate ways like two strangers passing in a storm.

But here we were. Still... I couldn't ignore the way Aryan cared for the people he loved.

Not me, because I didn't fall into that category. But my family? He had done more for them than I ever asked.

Just yesterday, I spoke to Papa. He sounded relieved, full of hope. My mother's health was improving rapidly, all thanks to Aryan, who had hired one of the best doctors in India to treat her. It hadn't come cheap, yet he never mentioned the cost.

Aryan had even visited my mother twice a week, something I hadn't known. And when my little brother changed schools, Aryan personally ensured he was adjusting well. He paid an entire year's tuition upfront, even when Papa tried to refuse him.

I had only wanted this marriage to last a few months, a convenience, and an escape.

But Aryan was already fulfilling the roles of son-in-law and brother-in-law without complaint.

And what had I done in return?

I forced him into this marriage. I sent horrible texts to the woman he once loved. I shattered the life he had planned for himself.

What must he think of me?

---