Dhruv beamed. “That’s wonderful news! I’ll go check on the cake.”
I stepped out of the room and headed for the backyard. The hallway felt miles long, each step heavier than the last. When I finally stepped outside, I froze.
The setup was breathtaking. I couldn't understand how a man who supposedly hated me had ordered all of this. Lavender drapes, which was my favorite color, swayed in the night breeze. Fairy lights glowed like tiny stars, bathing the patio in a golden warmth. At the center sat a small round table set for three, adorned with fresh lavender.
How does he even know what I like? We had hardly spent a day together.
The plates were filled with my favorite dishes. The scent of lavender mingled with the savory aroma of the food. And there, in the center, was a butterscotch cake which I liked the most.
“He remembered… ” I whispered as guilt settled in my stomach like lead.
He hadn’t wished me a happy anniversary, but then again, had I tried to wish him? He hadn’t called in months, but had I reached out? He had given up, but I realized now that I had given up too.
He had traveled all the way from Kerala in uniform just to be here. And I had greeted him with a fight. Saurav Chauhan was becoming a mystery I couldn't solve. He claimed to care only for his reputation, yet he married me to save mine. He hated me for the situation with Abhiraj, yet he’d fought the man for touching me.
He was a man of contradictions, and for the first time, I wondered which version of him was real.
I pulled out a chair, my fingers brushing the tablecloth as if the soft fabric could steady my racing heart. I stared at the elegant setting, trying to calm the storm Saurav had stirred inside me.
“It’s his fault too,” I muttered to the empty air, desperate to defend myself. “He’s an asshole. He didn’t have to act like that.” But my own argument sounded hollow. It was hard to stay angry while surrounded by the effort he’d clearly put into this. At least he had tried.
With trembling hands, I poured a glass of water and forced myself to take a sip. I put some fries on my plate, attempting to eat even though my stomach was in knots. Sometimes, pretending everything was fine felt better than facing the truth. I looked at the empty chair across from me, then up at our bedroom window, sensing him watching me from the shadows.
The night stretched on. Crickets chirped a lonely melody for my anniversary, and the stars seemed to mock me, they were part of a vast constellation, while I sat here alone. Only the moon offered comfort, a reminder that you could still shine even with borrowed light.
I checked the time and exhaled. “Of course,” I whispered to the vacant seat. “Why would he come?”
I was about to leave when the crunch of dried leaves stopped me. My eyes snapped toward the sound, and my hand froze mid-air. Saurav stepped into the golden glow of the fairy lights. His hair was damp from a shower, and though he was dressed simply, he looked striking enough to make my heart betray me. I hated it. I hated how easily he gave me butterflies.
He reached the table and sat across from me without a word. A heavy silence followed; we had fought so bitterly that neither of us knew how to find the path back to a normal conversation. I glanced at him once, then quickly looked down, pretending to be fascinated by my plate.
Saurav leaned back, his gaze drifting to the stars. His expression was a closed book. Minutes passed, and the small table between us felt like a vast canyon.
Then, unexpectedly, he reached across the table. I flinched as his fingers closed around mine. I tried to pull back, but his grip was gentle and careful this time. His thumb hovered over the faint red marks on my wrist. His own fingerprints.
His jaw tightened, and for a second, his composure cracked. “I…” He paused, his voice low and gravelly as he steadied himself. “I’m sorry.” He sighed heavily, as if those words weighed a thousand pounds. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. It was wrong.”
The silence that followed wasn't suffocating anymore.
“You’ve done it before,” I whispered.
“I know.”
He finally met my eyes. “I was angry,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t justify it.”
“I’m not having an affair with Abhiraj,” I said. I didn't know why I was bringing him up again, but I needed my husband to know the truth. “Trust me.”
He exhaled but didn’t let go of my hand. “It’s not just about trust, Kavya. It’s about fear.”
“Fear?”
“My family’s name. The media. Scandals. And… men like him.”
“Abhiraj isn’t…”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he interrupted. His voice was calm, but I could see the heat behind his eyes. “Maybe I’mwrong about him, maybe I’m not. But I don’t trust his intentions. Have you forgotten what he did at that party?”
“We’ve already talked about this,” I said, pulling my hand away. But as I saw that unfamiliar flicker of emotion in his eyes, I softened. “I… I might have been wrong about him, too.”