Anaya woke up to raised voices.
Not shouting — but tense.
She sat up, heart racing, and listened.
"…you can't keep ignoring this," a woman's voice said.
Rhea.
Anaya froze.
"…this isn't the time," Aarav replied quietly but firmly.
"There's never a time with you," Rhea snapped. "Not then. Not now."
Anaya slipped out of bed and stood near her door, listening.
"You moved on," Rhea continued. "You married someone else."
"Yes," Aarav said. "And that should tell you everything."
"That you're afraid," Rhea shot back. "That you still don't let people close."
A pause.
Then Aarav said, "This conversation is over."
Footsteps followed.
Anaya retreated to her room before either of them could see her.
Her chest felt tight.
---
Later that morning, Aarav acted as if nothing had happened.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied, her voice calm — too calm.
They ate in silence.
"You had a visitor early today," Anaya said casually.
"Yes."
"Rhea?"
"Yes."
"Why?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes.
"She had something to say."
"And now?"
"And now it's over."
The finality in his voice made something inside her ache.
---
That afternoon, Anaya received a call.
It was her mother.
"Beta," her mother said gently, "your aunt saw photos from the gala. Everyone is talking."
"About what?" Anaya asked, though she already knew.
"About how distant you and your husband look."
Anaya's grip tightened around the phone.
"People expect… affection," her mother continued carefully. "At least in public."
Anaya swallowed. "It's complicated."
"All marriages are," her mother said softly. "But don't let distance become habit."
The call ended, leaving Anaya unsettled.
---
That evening, Anaya stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection.
She had signed a contract to pretend.
But pretending was starting to hurt.
She walked downstairs and found Aarav in the study.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
He looked up. "Yes."
"I can't keep living like a ghost in this house," she said. "We don't have to be in love — but we can't be strangers."
Silence followed.
"What are you asking?" Aarav asked carefully.
"I'm asking for partnership," she said. "Not romance. Not emotion. Just… respect. Presence."
He stood up slowly.
"You already have that."
"No," she said. "I have a room and a last name. I don't have a husband."
His jaw tightened.
"You knew what you were agreeing to."
"I agreed to a contract," she replied. "Not loneliness."
The word hit harder than either of them expected.
---
Aarav looked away.
"I don't know how to be anything else," he admitted quietly.
She softened. "Then learn."
He met her eyes.
"Are you asking me to pretend better?" he asked.
"No," she said. "I'm asking you to stop pretending at all."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Aarav nodded once.
"I can try."
That was it.
No promise.
No confession.
Just an attempt.
But for the first time since the wedding, Anaya felt something shift.
Not love.
Not trust.
But the possibility of both.
---