What Was That, Aarav?
After a moment, she began her act—pretending to slump, as if the milk had done its job. As if she'd fallen victim to a sleeping pill.
How cute.
She thought she could outplay me.
But the truth is—neither glass was tampered with.
Not tonight.
Because the player has changed.
Still, I let her have her performance. Her theatrics gave me a rare opening—one I hadn't expected. A chance to show a sliver of warmth. A shadow of the man she once loved. Aarav, the version of him that still lingered beneath all the scars.
I couldn't push too far. Anything too bold would wake her. But that didn't mean I'd stop.
Quietly, I lowered her onto the bed, careful to make sure she was comfortable. I adjusted the pillow beneath her head and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
Somewhere in the gentleness, my hand found its way to her waist… lingering, hovering over her navel.
Only for a second.
And then guilt hit me.
Hard.
I pulled back—ashamed, uncertain, breathing too heavily for comfort. Emotions I didn't expect—emotions I shouldn't have—rushed up from somewhere deep. And I turned away, forcing myself to leave the room before I did something I couldn't excuse.
---
As the door clicked shut, Arundhati opened her eyes.
Tears streaked silently down her cheeks. One hand rested over her stomach, the place his hand had hesitated, as if it still carried the warmth of his touch.
In a cracked whisper, she said to the empty room:
"What was that, Aarav?
Are you… are you regretting what you did?
Or is this just another game?
Why is it so hard to understand you?"
---
Flashback: The Day Before the Wedding
"Aru! Aru, what are you doing, dear?" my mother called out, her voice anxious. "Aarav's family just sent the haldi. We need to begin the ceremony within the auspicious time—please hurry!"
(Haldi—a sacred wedding ritual in Hindu tradition, where turmeric paste is applied to the bride and groom. Ancient skincare, they say. A touch of gold before the vows.)
Since the announcement of our wedding, my parents had been a bundle of nerves. Maybe it was the gap between our families—status, money, power. Or maybe just the weight of marrying their only daughter into the Trivedis.
Opening my door, I called down, "Relax, Mom. A few minutes won't make Aarav change his mind. He loves me, remember?"
"Yes, yes, I know he does!" she said with a laugh. "Now come quickly. Your grandfather's waiting, and you know how serious he is about these traditions."
As I descended the stairs, a hush fell over the room.
All eyes turned to me—my family, our guests. Admiring, proud, curious.
I was the only child. The center of my parents' universe. They loved me deeply. Supported me through everything. And like any family, ours had its share of drama—especially from my aunt and her daughter. My uncle had passed away young, and my father took them in. But no matter how much we tried, they always seemed to carry resentment in their eyes.
The haldi ceremony passed beautifully, the sun dipping below the horizon just as it ended. After washing up, I returned to my room and stood before my bed, gently arranging my wedding dress for the next day.
And then—
Hands.
Strong, sudden.
A palm over my mouth.
I struggled, panicked. I tried to scream but couldn't. He pushed me gently onto the bed, and when I turned—
"Aarav?" I gasped.
He pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh… Why are you screaming, Arundhati? What will your parents think if they hear you shouting my name like that?"
He slowly let go, straightening my disheveled clothes. I stood, breathless, heart racing.
"What are you doing here? And why haven't you even washed your face? It's still covered in haldi—if anyone sees you like this, they won't recognize the great Aarav Trivedi."
He stepped closer. Close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath.
"But you recognized me," he murmured.
I smiled softly. "How could I not? But that's not the point. Why are you here?"
His hand slipped around my waist.
"Isn't it obvious?" he whispered. "I came to celebrate my haldi ceremony with my wife."
And just like that, he rubbed his cheek against mine—his turmeric-streaked skin brushing mine. The golden powder transferred. Now I wore the same yellow hue he did.
"Aarav! Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what will happen if someone sees you here?"
His gaze darkened slightly as it fell to my lips. "Nothing will happen. We're getting married tomorrow. What's wrong with me coming to see you… tonight?"
A knock at the door interrupted us.
"Aru? Arundhati? Why did you shout? Is everything okay?" My mother's voice grew louder, more worried.
Panic flared. I pushed Aarav toward the bathroom. "Hide. Now. And don't make a sound."
He only smirked.
"And if I do?" he teased.
"Then we're not spending our wedding night together."
It was an absurd threat.
But his face fell slightly, stunned by how serious I sounded. He grabbed my wrist.
"You can't be serious."
His confusion made me laugh. He looked like a kicked puppy.
"I am," I said. "Now zip it."
Without a word, he pressed a finger to his lips.
I grabbed a towel, wiped my face hurriedly, and opened the door just as my mother's knocking intensified.
"There you are! Why did you scream Aarav's name like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Mom, it's fine. He was just being silly—I got mad and shouted. Then I realized my face was still covered in haldi, so I went to wash it off."
She gave my forehead a light flick. "You two are always like this. Honestly. And next time don't yell like that—my heart's too old for these shocks."
I chuckled. "Alright, alright. Now go rest—you'll be exhausted tomorrow."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. Don't stay on the phone all night, alright?"
She smirked and walked away, knowing well about our late-night calls.
As I gently closed the door behind her, I felt arms wrap around me from behind.
This time, I didn't scream. I didn't resist.
I just smiled.
And turned to him.
---