Chapter 28: Chapter 24

Happy New Year 🎊

Lots of love ❤️

N I K S H A N T

The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows of my office, but it brought no warmth. The cold tension in my chest had become a permanent fixture, a reminder of the chaos my life had descended into. Aaravi's words from last night kept replaying in my mind. "If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?"

I slammed my pen down on the desk.

"Focus, Nikshant," I muttered to myself.

I tried to immerse myself in work, but the images of Aaravi's tear-streaked face haunted me. Her accusations, her raw pain-it was all too much.

There was a knock on my cabin door.

"Come in," I said, and saw Dinesh step in.

"Sir, Ravi sir has arrived," Dinesh informed me.

"Send him in," I said curtly.

Ravi entered, his nervous energy palpable. He avoided eye contact as he placed a file on my desk.

"Sir, these are the updates on the investigation," he began hesitantly.

I gestured for him to sit down, but my focus was on the file. My eyes scanned the documents, but there was nothing new. No leads, no answers. Just the same frustrating dead ends.

"I need to know if these photos are real or fake," I said, my voice colder than intended.

Ravi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Sir, I've been doing everything I can, but there's no solid evidence yet. It's possible the photos were doctored, but without more information-"

"Doctoring photos isn't easy," I interrupted. "These pictures aren't just any random snapshots. They're intimate. Too detailed. If they're fake, I want proof. And if they're real..."

I trailed off, the weight of the possibility crushing me.

Ravi hesitated. "Sir, have you considered... asking her directly?"

My jaw tightened. I hated the suggestion, not because it wasn't valid, but because it terrified me. What if she confirmed the worst?

"No," I said firmly. "She doesn't know, and I don't want her to know until I have answers. Once I do, she'll see the real Nikshant Roy Kapoor."

My thoughts spiraled into darker territory, but I pushed them aside.

"If I had to ask her directly, why would I hire you?" I snapped. "How much more time do you need? It's been five days, Ravi. Five days and nothing to show for it."

"I understand your frustration, sir," Ravi said carefully. "But this investigation is delicate. You instructed me to handle it alone, and I'm doing that. I promise I'll get to the bottom of this."

I stared at him, weighing his words. "You have five more days, Ravi. Five. If you can't deliver results by then, don't bother showing your face again."

Ravi left my cabin, and I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The weight of the mystery surrounding Aaravi was suffocating, each unanswered question tightening its grip on my mind. The photos-the ones showing her with a man I didn't recognize-were still in my drawer. I had studied them so many times, trying to find something, anything, that could give me clarity.

🕊️

The drive home felt longer than usual. The questions swirling in my mind, the lack of answers, and Aaravi's haunting words replayed like a broken record: "If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?"

Why indeed? I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my jaw clenching involuntarily. Hate was such a simple word, yet it didn't come close to describing the storm within me.

Yesterday night, she had looked so vulnerable then, tears staining her face, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. But now, as I walked into the house, the scene before me was a complete contradiction.

Aaravi sat on the couch, her posture relaxed, a faint smile playing on her lips as she spoke to Aahana and Aarav. Mom and dadi were seated nearby, their faces lit up with amusement. Whatever Aaravi was saying seemed to have captivated them all.

"How does she do this?" I muttered under my breath.

The woman who had been on the verge of breaking down last night now looked perfectly composed, as if nothing had happened.

"Bhaiya!" Aahana called out, her face lighting up when she saw me. "Come join us! Bhabhi is telling us about her college case."

I forced a small smile and walked further into the room, but my attention was entirely on Aaravi. She glanced at me briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Aahana.

Aaravi glanced at me and said to Aahana, "Aahana Di, he must be tired after coming back from the office."

Aahana pouted and said, "But Bhabhi..."

"No problem, Aahana Di. We'll tell him some other day," Aaravi said softly, and Aahana nodded with a smile.

"Beta, we've never seen someone like you," Dadi said, her voice filled with pride. "You're so wise and understanding."

Aaravi smiled, lowering her gaze. "Dadi Ji, it's all because of your blessings."

I clenched my fists at my sides, the tension in my chest growing tighter. How could she sit there, acting like the perfect daughter-in-law, when everything between us was such a mess?

"Dinner is ready," my mother said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Nikshant, why don't you freshen up?"

I nodded stiffly and headed upstairs, desperate for an escape from the suffocating normalcy of the scene below.

In my room, I paced back and forth, my mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. Aaravi's calm demeanor downstairs only added fuel to the fire burning inside me. How could she act so unaffected?

I opened the drawer of my study desk and pulled out the photos again, the ones that had turned my world upside down. Multiple photos and multiple men in the photos, and Aaravi was lying with them, a white sheet draped over them.

Were they real? Or was Ravi's delay in proving their authenticity proof that something wasn't right?

The sound of light footsteps outside my door made me shove the photos back into the drawer. Aaravi appeared in the doorway, her expression hesitant.

"Dinner is ready," she said softly.

I nodded.

"Jaldi aaiyega, sabh intezaar kar rahe hai,"she said over her shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

Her retreating figure stirred something in me-an ache I couldn't quite place.

I came downstairs and sat at the dining table.

Mom, Aarav, Dadi, and Aahana were chatting while Aaravi quietly listened, occasionally nodding when they asked her something.

I kept my eyes fixed on the plate in front of me, trying to ignore the conversation.

"Bhaiya, why are you so quiet today?" Aahana asked, a frown forming on her face as she looked at me. "Is something bothering you?"

"Nothing's wrong," I replied, keeping my tone even and measured.

"Are you sure?" she prodded again, her curiosity unabated. "Because you look like you're planning world domination or something."

Her comment drew a burst of laughter from everyone at the table, but Aaravi's eyes flicked toward me briefly, lingering just a little too long before she looked away.

"Just focus on your food, Aahana," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. Aahana just mouthed sorry.

After dinner, I decided to talk to Aaravi. Maybe, just maybe, if I talked to her, I could find out something about her-something that could help me.

Maybe I'm being selfish, but I can't help it. I need to know the damn truth, and I'll do whatever it takes to bring it out.

I looked at Aaravi as she excused herself and walked toward the garden area.

while I remained at the table, mulling over my next move. I needed answers, but every time I tried to approach her, I either froze or let my temper ruin everything.

When I finally made my way to the garden, she was sitting on the wooden bench near the tulsi plant, her face illuminated by the faint glow of the outdoor lights. She seemed lost in thought, her hands resting in her lap, her posture stiff.

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. "Aaravi."

She looked up, startled, and for a moment, her eyes softened before the tension returned. "What is it, Nikshant ji?"

"I thought we should talk," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, calm.

"Talk?" she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. "Since when do you want to talk?"

"I mean say," I insisted, sitting down on the bench, though keeping some distance. "I want to understand... us."

"Us?" she said with a bitter laugh, turning to face me. "There is no 'us,' Nikshant ji. There never has been."

Her words stung, but I swallowed my pride. "Aaravi, I just... I don't want things to be like this anymore."

"Then what do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You think you can say or do anything to me whenever you want, and I'll just stay silent?"

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly, but she cut me off.

"Maybe I didn't say or do anything before," she continued, her voice rising, "but, Nikshant ji, I'm a human being too. I feel pain too. Just when I thought things between us were starting to get better, you go back to treating me like a stranger. Why? Why can't we live a normal married life? Why can't we just try?"

Her words hit me harder than I expected. The raw pain in her voice, the desperation-it made my chest ache. For a moment, I didn't know what to say. But then the frustration that had been building up inside me erupted.

"WE WILL NEVER HAVE A NORMAL MARRIED LIFE, AND I DON'T THINK WE EVER WILL!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the quiet night.

Her eyes widened, and for a second, she looked as though I had struck her. But she didn't back down.

"Why... why can't we?" she asked, her voice breaking with every word. "Why can't we live a normal married life? What is it that makes you hate me so much, when I didn't even know you before this marriage?"

"I can't tell you why I hate you," I said, my voice low but firm. I looked away, unable to meet her tear-filled eyes, but the silence that followed was unbearable.

"You can't tell me?" she said, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. "Or you won't tell me? Because there's a huge  difference, Nikshant ji. A big difference."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I don't owe you an explanation," I muttered.

She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "You don't owe me an explanation? I'm your wife, Nikshant ji. I'm the person who wakes up every morning wondering if today will be the day you finally treat me like a human being. Like someone who matters. And you think you don't owe me an explanation?"

"Don't make this about you," I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. "This isn't just about you."

"Then what is it about?" she demanded, standing up abruptly. "Tell me, Nikshant ji. If it's not about me, then what is it? Your pride? Your ego? Your inability to let someone in?"

"Stop it, Aaravi," I said, my tone a warning. But she didn't stop.

"No, I won't stop," she said, her voice rising. "I've stopped enough. I've stayed silent enough. But not anymore. If you hate me so much, if you regret this marriage so much, then why don't you just end it? Why don't you just let me go?"

Her words cut through me like a blade. I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. Because deep down, I didn't want to let her go. I couldn't.

When I didn't answer, she laughed bitterly, tears streaming down her face. "You don't have an answer, do you? Because you don't know what you want. You don't know whether to hate me or to hold onto me. And I'm the one paying the price for your indecision."

Her words struck a chord, and before I could stop myself, I said, "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't struggle with this every single day? You have no idea what's going on inside my head, Aaravi."

"Then tell me," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Tell me, Nikshant ji. Let me in. For once, just let me in."

"I can't," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" she asked, her tone desperate.

"When the time comes, you'll know," I said, my voice firm.

"I'll wait for that time, Nikshant ji," she replied softly, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

She turned away, walking back toward the house, leaving me alone in the garden. I stayed there, staring at the empty bench, her words echoing in my mind.

A A R A V I

The night was quiet, too quiet. I sat on the edge of our bed, staring into the darkness that enveloped the room. The cold air from the open window brushed against my skin, but it did nothing to soothe the burning frustration inside me. My heart still ached from the argument with Nikshant, but this time, there was something else lingering in the pit of my stomach. Something I hadn’t felt before.

Veer bhaiyaa's words echoed in my mind: "Take a stand for yourself, princess." And today, I took a stand for myself.

I had never imagined that marriage would be like this. When I first agreed to marry Nikshant jii, I thought that once I escaped that hellish house, maybe—just maybe—I could find peace here. But all I received were shameful words that I swallowed every day, just as I had in that wretched house.

I tried to give this marriage a chance—a chance for us—even after he said those hurtful words on our wedding night. I tried to make him happy in every possible way, tried to carve out a place in his heart. But instead, all I found was a wall—a wall he had built around himself. No matter how hard I tried to break it down, it remained unyielding.

Nikshant jii's words had stung, as they always did, but this time, something inside me had shifted. I couldn’t continue to live like this. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. The bitterness, the distance—it was tearing me apart. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had started to lose myself in the process.

His anger had pushed me to the edge, but it was also what had made me finally speak up. I had been quiet for too long, swallowing my pain and trying to please him, hoping that one day he would let me in. But today, I realized that I couldn’t keep waiting for him to change. If he couldn’t see me, truly see me, then there was nothing left to save.

A small part of me wanted to go to him, to apologize, to tell him that I didn’t mean to hurt him, but the larger part of me knew that wasn’t the answer. I couldn’t keep living for him, for his approval.

It was time to live for myself.

The sound of footsteps outside the door interrupted my thoughts. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My mind raced. Was it Nikshant? Had he come to apologize, or was he still angry?

The door creaked open, and there he stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the light from the hallway. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place.

Nikshant ji looked at me for a split second and then looked away. That fleeting glance held nothing—no warmth, no remorse, no acknowledgment of my existence. He entered the room as if I were a mere piece of furniture, something insignificant in his world. Without sparing me another glance, he headed straight to the washroom, closing the door behind him with a soft thud that echoed louder in my heart than in the quiet room.

I sat there, a thousand emotions swirling inside me. Why had I expected anything different? Why did I think, even for a moment, that he might say something—anything—to bridge the ever-widening chasm between us? Was it too much to hope for an apology?

I let out a bitter laugh at my own foolishness. Someone who has never said a kind word to me would apologize? Someone who looks at me like I’m a burden would suddenly soften?

Why do I even have such high expectations? Expectations, after all, are the cruelest form of self-inflicted pain.

My chest tightened as the sting of disappointment settled in. It wasn’t just his indifference that hurt—it was the realization that I had let myself hope. The sheer audacity of my heart to believe that something might change, that I might matter to him, even just a little.

“It hurts,” I murmured to no one in particular, the words barely audible in the silence of the room. Unshed tears gathered in my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I blinked them away. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t cry—not anymore.

I busied myself with rearranging the pillows on the bed, a meaningless task to distract my restless hands and heavy heart. The muffled sound of running water from the washroom filled the air, and I wondered what he was thinking in there. Did he ever think about me at all? Or was I just another obligation he had to endure?

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it?

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my fingers gripping the soft fabric of my saare. Memories of our wedding night resurfaced, unbidden and unwanted. His cold words, his piercing gaze that had held more disdain than curiosity. I had tried to push those memories to the farthest corners of my mind, but they always found their way back, haunting me when I least expected it.

I closed my eyes, letting the weight of my thoughts press down on me. “Why do you care so much, Aaravi?” I whispered to myself. “He doesn’t care about your existence.”

But I cared. I cared more than I should, and that was the problem. Despite everything—despite his coldness, his indifference, his walls—I couldn’t stop myself from wanting… something. A connection, a sign, anything to make me feel like this marriage wasn’t a complete farce.

The sound of the washroom door opening pulled me out of my thoughts. I straightened up, my heart involuntarily quickening as Nikshant ji stepped out. He looked as composed as ever, his expression unreadable. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the faint scent of his soap filled the room.

For a moment, I thought he might say something. His gaze flickered in my direction, but just as quickly, he averted it. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and began scrolling through it, as if I weren’t even there.

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to suppress the wave of frustration that surged through me. “Good night, Aaravi” I said to myself.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Lying down on my side of the bed, I stared at the wall, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn’t silence.

How much longer could I live like this? How much longer could I endure this emptiness, this one-sided effort to make something out of nothing? I wanted to hate him—I really did—but my heart betrayed me at every turn. It clung to the slivers of kindness he had shown me, the rare moments when he had let his guard down, even if only briefly.

But those moments were never enough.

I turned onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The faint sound of Nikshant ji typing on his phone filled the silence. I wondered who he was texting. Was it work? Friends? Someone else? The thought made my stomach churn, and I immediately pushed it away.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to take over, but it didn’t come. My mind replayed every interaction we’d had, every argument, every fleeting smile, every cold shoulder. And in the midst of it all, a single question lingered in my heart, one that I didn’t have the courage to voice aloud:

Why am I not enough?

As the hours dragged on, I felt the weight of his presence beside me, distant yet palpable. He was so close, yet it felt like there was an ocean between us. An ocean of misunderstandings, of unspoken words, of unfulfilled promises.

The night stretched on, and eventually, exhaustion claimed me.

⁠

♡♡ 🕊️ ⁠♡♡

It had been four days since our argument, and though the storm between us had settled, the silence was just as unnerving. We had returned to Nikshant ji’s penthouse, and to my surprise, things were… peaceful. Not the kind of peace you get from harmony but the kind where no one dares to upset the fragile balance.

We didn’t talk much, but when we did, the hostility that usually colored our conversations was absent. He wasn’t rude anymore, his tone calm and collected, and it made me wonder if this was his way of mending things—or maybe just avoiding further conflict.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope creeping into my heart. Maybe this was the start of something better. Maybe this was the foundation on which we could build a semblance of normalcy, of a life that didn’t feel like we were walking on shards of glass.

I was sitting by the window, the soft glow of the evening sun casting long shadows across the room. A cup of chai sat untouched on the table beside me as I lost myself in thoughts of what could be. Maybe his calm demeanor can fix everything between us, I thought, my heart daring to believe in the possibility.

The idea of having a family—a real family—was so alluring that I let myself dream for a moment. A home filled with laughter, shared meals, and late-night conversations. Could we truly get there someday?

But dreams have a cruel way of shattering when you least expect it.

A loud, piercing voice suddenly echoed through the hall, ripping me out of my thoughts. My body froze, and my heart started to race.

“AARAVI!”Nikshant jii's voice boomed, his tone sharper, and I immediately stood up. Without a second thought, I rushed out of the room and descended the stairs, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

As I reached the living room, I saw him. Nikshant ji stood there, his tall frame exuding a terrifying intensity. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his eyes—those usually cold and indifferent eyes—were bloodshot red. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Here’s the update, and the next one is going to be explosive, so buckle up

I’m telling you, you’re going to hate Nikshant even more after the next chapter.

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