Page 85 of Mrs. Rathore

His laugh was humorless. “You told her we had sex, Avni. Do you realize that?”

I flinched at his crude choice of words. “I didn’t say that,” I whispered. “I just said you were… sweet to me. That we had dates, that we… bathed together once.” I bit my lower lip, regretting the last part. “I just couldn’t bear to see doubts in her eyes.”

“So your solution is to lie? Again?” he spat. He took one long stride toward me and grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Do you evenunderstand what you’re doing? You’re setting expectations I can never meet. I’m not that man, Avni.”

I stared up at him, the sting in my arm nothing compared to the sting in my heart.

“You shouldn’t have said those things. We’re not that couple. I can’t be sweet to you. I won’t date you. We’ll never be together in that way, do you understand?”

Yes, because he loves Ira.

I tore my arm from his grip, stepping back and pressing a hand to the place where his fingers had left a red imprint. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe properly.

His words clanged in my head like an alarm bell: never be together.

“I’m sorry if that offended you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And for the record, I’m not pretending. This… what you see now… this is me. I’m not asking you to change, Aryan. I never wanted a life partner like you. You’re too arrogant, too cold, and too damn proud for my taste.”

I lifted my chin, even though my throat felt tight with emotion.

“But once my legs heal, I’m leaving. I’m divorcing you. That’s always been the plan.”

He stared at me for a long, silent moment. I thought I saw something flicker in his expression, but it vanished too fast to catch.

“Good,” he finally said, his voice distant. “The sooner, the better.”

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Chapter 32

AVNI

It had been a week since Aryan and I last spoke. Not that we ever really talked; we mostly fought. He became furious when I lied to Grandma that day, and then we stopped communicating altogether. His gaze always made it seem like everything was my fault. But really, I had only made two significant mistakes: first, I forced Aryan to marry me; second, I sent those cruel texts to Ira.

But what about his faults?

He was the one who drove drunk and crashed into my legs. He was the one who spent more time with his ex-girlfriend than with me. And he was the one who treated me like I didn’t matter.

Not that I should let it bother me… But somehow, it did. I was supposed to make his life miserable, but in reality, it felt like he was the one making mine unbearable.

I had lost count of how many times Aryan has gotten angry with me. However, I can count on one hand the times he spoke to me like a decent human being—only twice. During those moments, I almost felt like I was beginning to understand him. Almost. But then everything would fall apart again.

To be honest, I hated pretending to be his wife. I hated being in the same room with him. I hated sitting next to him at the dining table and acting like everything was fine. I hated him. And I always would.

My nostrils flared like a bull’s as I glanced at him sitting quietly beside me, chewing his food as if nothing was wrong.

“Are you okay, Bhabhi?” Rhea asked, her eyes shifting between Aryan and me. “Why aren’t you eating?”

She looked at my untouched breakfast, which was aloo paratha, my favorite, or at least it used to be. Now, I didn’t like how heavy it felt; all those calories weighed on me. I had started choosing lighter foods lately. A few days ago, I weighed myself and noticed I had gained a few pounds.

“I’m not that hungry,” I sighed, pushing my plate away.

“We can ask the chef to make something lighter if you want,” Aryan said quietly, reaching for my plate.

Wow, so now he was playing the role of the caring husband? “No, thanks,” I replied flatly, and he simply shrugged.

“Avni, are you pregnant?” Grandma asked suddenly.

I froze, my eyes widening in shock.

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