Page 97 of Mrs. Rathore

She exhaled slowly. “You’re right. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. The distance isn’t helping either.” She sat up straighter, brushing her doubts away with forced cheer.“Anyway! Enough about heartbreak and suspicions. I actually came here for a reason.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot!” she groaned. “We talked about it last night! Your paid promotion video?”

My eyes widened in realization. “Oh God…”

“Yes! The saree brand collaboration! You received the sarees last week, remember? You’re supposed to post the photos soon!”

I groaned into my hands. “I swear I wouldn’t have accepted that offer if you hadn’t bullied me into it.”

“Yeah, but they’re paying you fifty thousand! For one post!” she laughed, poking my shoulder. “With your 150K followers, this is the perfect deal. Come on, you just have to wear a saree, pose like a goddess, and be your stunning self. Easy!”

“Fine,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “Let’s just get it over with.”

An hour later, Rhea’s room looked like a mini studio, with bright ring lights set up, a camera mounted, and fabrics strewn across the bed. I stood stiffly in the center, wearing a luxurious red silk saree paired with a golden sleeveless blouse.

Rhea insisted I wear emerald green jewelry, including a statement choker and oversized studs, and she styled my hair in soft curls. She even applied more makeup than I’d worn in the last year combined.

“You look… wow,” she whispered, adjusting her camera. “Legs okay?”

“Still attached to my body,” I muttered. “But let’s shoot. I need to breathe without these earrings threatening to rip my lobes off.”

“Ten minutes max,” she promised, grinning as she began snapping photos.

It was mildly exhausting. Posing gracefully was no joke. I wasn’t a model, and I had never wanted to be one. But here I was, balancing awkwardly, trying not to fall or look like I hated my life.

Once we were done, Rhea sent the photos to the brand for approval. I escaped to the bathroom, desperate to get out of the heavy saree and the pressure to be camera-perfect.

As I rinsed my face, my eyes fell on a familiar object. It was Aryan’s shaving cream, neatly tucked beside the sink. My heart stumbled.

It smelled like him. I grabbed the tube and held it close, breathing in the scent as if trying to fill an emptiness inside me.

His body wash, his cologne, and even his crisp shirts still hung in the wardrobe. Every corner of this mansion echoed with his presence, even when he wasn’t here.

“Bhabhi!” Rhea’s voice snapped me back to reality.

I quickly shoved the cream back and stepped out, wiping my hands on a towel.

“Movie time!” she declared. “Our favorite one! You in?”

I laughed. “I’m always in. You act like I have a job or something.”

This mansion was beautiful, a paradise built with marble and luxury. But sometimes, it felt like a golden cage. Everything I could ever want was at my fingertips: food, fashion, comfort, and travel. Yet none of it touched my soul. None of it compared to what I truly craved: passion.

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Chapter 37

AVNI

We were sitting at the dining table when Mrs. Rathore suddenly chirped, her voice as crisp as her starched saree. “I want you to enrol in university to complete your education.”

The sandwich in my mouth turned dry, losing all its flavour as I glanced up at her. I paused, my jaw stiffening. The words she uttered echoed in my mind, colliding with my pride. Suddenly, the once-delicious sandwich became a tasteless lump sliding reluctantly down my throat.

“Excuse me?” I managed, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t want to study further?” she asked in that same authoritative tone so eerily similar to her son’s.

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