The sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft but intrusive.
Aadhrik blinked awake on the sofa.
It didn't look like he had slept at all…
But for him, that never mattered. Not really.
He stretched quietly, careful—almost overly careful—not to wake Aarshika.
After getting ready, he paused at the doorway and looked at her once.
Even in sleep… her face wasn't peaceful.
A small frown sat between her brows, like she was fighting something even in dreams.
He exhaled, turned away, and headed downstairs.
He cleaned the house mechanically, then started cooking breakfast and lunch—movements steady, practiced, silent.
---
On the other side of the house, she woke up right after he left the room.
For a full second she didn't recognise where she was.
And then it hit.
Everything.
Her head throbbed with the weight of it.
Cry?
Shout?
Break something?
Pretend everything was normal?
She didn't know what she wanted…
but she knew what she needed: Answers.
She threw the blanket aside, got freshened up, and paused before her wardrobe.
Indian?
Western?
Her mumma's voice drifted into her mind—
"First day after marriage… you should wear Indian. Saree if possible."
But her chest felt too heavy for a saree today. She didn't want to follow now what everyone said.
She pulled out a yellow sundress instead—ankle-length, soft, with bows on the sleeves.
Getting ready always calmed her. Soothed her.
At least the outside looked perfect even if the inside was collapsing.
She finished with simple skincare and applied the gloss she loved, the faint cherry fragrance calming her nerves.
Then her gaze fell on the ring.
The engagement ring.
It felt heavier than it should have — like a stone pressed against her heart.
It no longer meant anything… except remembrance. Of everything that had gone wrong.
She slid it off slowly.
The diamonds scraped against her fingers, a quiet sting she welcomed.
Without much thought, she dropped it into the drawer and shut it with a sharp thud.
Only then did she exhale.
A long, shaky breath.
As if she could finally breathe again
She wore her favourite small earrings—her first self-bought pair.
The bracelet from her brother.
And the mangalsutra rested against her collarbone.
She couldn't remove it.
Why?
She didn't know.
But her fingers stopped every time she tried.
Tho she didn't applied sindoor as the pinch felt too heavy
Ignoring the turmoil, she stepped outside searching for… food?
Or maybe him?
She found him in the kitchen, humming softly while cooking.
And just the smell made her stomach growl.
"Hey, good morning. You woke up?" He tried to start a convo when he saw her.
She looked at him like trying to understand him.
"Good morning… And no, I'm still sleeping. Can't you see?"
The sarcasm came out sharper than she planned, but she didn't fix it.
"I've prepared breakfast. Sit, I'll serve." He offered
"It wasn't needed. I'll order something." she declined it
"It's already done," he replied calmly. "Just have it. It's not bad."
Before she could argue, her stomach betrayed her again.
She stomped to the dining table and sat.
Poha.
Parathas.
Achar.
Dahi.
Chai.
Juice.
Everything arranged neatly, almost too neatly.
She ate. It was genuinely amazing.
But she said nothing. And he didn't expect her to.
She cleared her throat.
"Umm… I wanted to talk." she said
"Yeah, sure," he said, giving her full attention. "Say."
"Are you free right now?" she asked again
"I have to go for work but we can talk."
"It'll take time… Let's talk in the evening."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
She cleared her throat again.
He raised a brow.
"Want some cough syrup?"
She glared.
"Oh chill, I was kidding."
She looked away, annoyed at the faint smile tugging on his lips.
"Where do you work? What do you do? At what time will you be home?" She asked more like fired the questions
"I'm a professor. Accounts. I leave at nine and come back around five."
He replied calmly
She nodded quietly.
He started packing lunch, and she watched—without meaning to—how effortlessly he managed everything.
He didn't even ask her anything about herself.
No expectations.
No judgement.
Just quiet… which strangely irritated her more.
He pretended to clear his throat dramatically.
"Want some cough syrup?" She shot back
He laughed under his breath and shrugged.
"I'll be back by 5. Then we'll talk."
She nodded once.
He grabbed his car keys and left.
---
After finishing breakfast, she washed her own plate—everything else was already sparkling clean.
She glanced around the house.
Small.
Cozy.
Neat.
Almost too perfect.
"How is this so organised? Looks like no one lives here…"
Her own mind answered back bitterly—
"That's how normal people live. Not like your messy self."
She rolled her eyes at herself.
The house had:
One study room.
One bedroom.
A kitchen.
Hall.
Two balconies.
She fell in love with the room balcony instantly.
She sat there with her diary… and started writing.
One page.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Her tears fell freely, quietly, darkening the ink.
She didn't wipe them.
When overwhelmed, she always crumpled the pages.
Those crushed papers matched her heart today.
She wiped her face, hugged herself tight, and whispered shakily—
"Sshhh… Aarshika rote nahi hai… Sab theek ho jayega. Sab kuch…
No one loves me yaarr…"
Her voice broke. Then steadied.
"I do. I do love you. Relax. Tabiyat kharab ho jayegi aur royegi toh aur bura lagega. I'll be...fine....I'll make everything finee.....dont cryy naa bacheee"
Her own self-soothing voice was all she had ever relied on.
Exhausted, she drifted into sleep on the swing.
---
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
She jerked awake.
It was 5 PM.
"Coming!" she called, scrambling up.
She hid the diary, washed her face, forced a smile, and opened the door.
"You took a lot of time to open," he said, a little concerned.
"I was sleeping."
"Oh. Good then."
"Hmm."
"We can talk now," he said.
"You can freshen up first," she replied. "Then we'll talk."
"Okay."
He walked inside.
And no—he didn't notice she had cried.
No one ever did.
Because her eyes… never got red from tears.
A strange, cruel talent.