Cracks Beneath the Surface
The mansion was quieter at night, but silence did not mean peace.
Tithi stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the deep blue saree Meera had chosen for her. It was elegant, expensive—and slightly intimidating. Tonight was her first public appearance as Mrs. Chaudhury.
A business dinner.
A performance.
A lie wrapped in silk.
There was a soft knock.
"Are you ready?" Ariaan's voice came from outside.
"One minute."
She took a deep breath before opening the door.
For a brief second, Ariaan forgot to speak.
The blue fabric complemented her perfectly. Her hair was loosely tied, and her minimal jewelry made her look graceful rather than extravagant.
"You look… appropriate," he said finally, masking whatever he had almost admitted.
Tithi raised an eyebrow. "Appropriate? That's the best compliment you have?"
He almost smiled. "We're already late."
The car ride to the hotel was tense but different from before. Not cold—just cautious.
The grand ballroom was filled with influential people—investors, CEOs, board members. Cameras flashed as soon as they entered.
Ariaan's hand gently rested on her waist.
The gesture startled her.
"Relax," he murmured softly. "They're watching."
She forced a polite smile.
For the next hour, she followed him from group to group. He introduced her confidently.
"My wife, Tithi Chaudhury."
Each time he said it, something stirred strangely inside her.
At one point, an older board member chuckled. "Ariaan, we were beginning to think you'd never settle down."
Ariaan smiled lightly. "Good things take time."
Tithi almost looked at him in surprise.
Good things?
Was he talking about her?
As the evening progressed, Tithi listened carefully to the conversations. She noticed how investors reacted when Ariaan spoke about expansion plans. She observed the subtle politics between board members.
And then she noticed something else.
Meera.
She was standing across the room, watching them closely. Not as a secretary. Not as an employee.
But as someone personally invested.
When Ariaan excused himself to take a call, Meera approached Tithi.
"You're learning fast," Meera said coolly.
"I try," Tithi replied politely.
Meera tilted her head slightly. "Just remember your position."
"My position?"
"You're temporary."
The word felt like a slap.
Tithi kept her voice steady. "And what exactly is your position?"
Meera's lips curved into a thin smile. "Permanent."
Before Tithi could respond, Ariaan returned.
"Everything alright?" he asked, sensing the tension.
"Perfectly," both women answered at the same time.
The rest of the night passed without incident, but the atmosphere had shifted.
Back in the car, Ariaan finally spoke.
"You handled yourself well."
"Thank you."
"I didn't expect you to understand the discussions so quickly."
"I may not come from wealth," she said quietly, "but I'm not foolish."
"I never thought you were."
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, he added, "Ignore Meera."
Tithi turned toward him. "Why?"
"She's been with the company for years. She takes things… personally."
"Does she?" Tithi asked carefully.
Ariaan's jaw tightened slightly. "She confuses loyalty with ownership."
Ownership.
That explained the hostility.
When they returned home, the night air felt heavier than before.
As Tithi stepped out of the car, she suddenly felt dizzy. The long evening, the tension, the pressure—it all rushed at once.
She stumbled slightly.
Ariaan caught her before she could fall.
For a moment, they were too close.
His hand firmly around her waist.
Her fingers clutching his coat.
Their eyes locked.