I stood at the front of the lecture hall, glaring at Kruti as she giggled with her friend in the back row. She wasn't even bothering to hide her amusement.
My irritation flared when I caught her pointing at me and whispering something to her friend. The quiet snickering that followed only added fuel to my already smoldering annoyance.
"Miss thakur," I called sharply, my voice echoing through the room. She looked up with wide, innocent eyes, as if she hadn't just been mocking me.
"Yes, Professor?" she asked sweetly, the edges of her lips twitching into a barely restrained smile.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure. "If you're done distracting the class, perhaps you'd like to share whatever is so amusing with everyone?"
Her eyes glinted with mischief, and for a second, I thought she might actually say something. Instead, she simply shook her head. "Nothing."
I wanted to reprimand her, to put her in her place, but a part of me hesitated. Publicly scolding her felt... wrong. Memories of my past, of how humiliating it was to be chastised in front. of others, flashed in my mind.
Exhaling heavily, I decided to let it go. "Focus on the lecture," I said curtly, turning back to the board.
After the lecture ended, I stayed behind, finishing up some notes. The classroom gradually emptied until it was just me. I glanced at the clock, realizing it was later than usual.
Kruti and I always left together after hours, once everyone else was gone, but she was nowhere to be found.
Frowning, I packed up my things and headed out to find her. Maybe she was still chatting with her friend or had gotten distracted somewhere on campus.
I checked the library first. She wasn't there. Then the cafeteria. Still no sign of her. My concern grew with every empty room I passed. By the time I reached the courtyard, my stomach was in knots.
"Where are you, Kruti?" I muttered under my breath, quickening my pace.
Finally, I thought of checking her classroom. As soon as I stepped inside, my heart sank.
There she was, sitting at a desk near the window, her head resting on her folded arms. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and even from a distance, I could hear the faint sound of her muffled sobs.
"Kruti?" I called softly, walking toward her. She didn't lift her head or acknowledge me.
I sat beside her, trying to see her face. "Kruti, what's wrong?"
Her hands tightened into fists against the desk. "Go away," she mumbled, her voice thick with tears.
Ignoring her protest, I stayed put. "Not until you tell me what's going on."
She shook her head, refusing to look at me. "It's nothing. Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that," I said firmly. "You're crying. Tell me what happened."
Her silence stretched for a moment before she finally sat up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting mine. The sight of her tear-streaked face made my chest tighten painfully.
"It's stupid," she whispered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Maybe," I replied gently. "But it's clearly not stupid to you, so it's not stupid to me either. Talk to me."
She hesitated, her gaze darting away. "I... I justâ" Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath. "I don't want you to turn into someone like him."
I frowned, confused. "Him? Who are you talking about?"
Her lips quivered as she struggled to get the words out. "My ex."
I stiffened, my mind racing. Kruti rarely talked about her past relationships, and I'd never pressed her for details. But the anguish in her eyes now told me everything I needed to know.
"He was... controlling," she continued haltingly. "He was manipulative and used to give me to his friends to use when he lost a bet. I stayed with him because I thought he loved me, but he didn't. He just... used me."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had no idea she'd been carrying this kind of pain.
"I'm not him," I said quietly, my voice firm but soft.
"I know," she whispered, fresh tears spilling down her. cheeks. "But sometimes I get scared. When you get angry or when you push me away... it reminds me of him, and I hate it. I know you don't want this marriage, butâ"
Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands.
"Kruti..." I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I wasn't ready to admit how much she meant to me. Hell, I didn't even fully understand it myself. But seeing her like this, so broken and vulnerable, made something inside me ache.
Tentatively, I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look at me," I said softly.
She didn't move at first, but eventually, she lowered her hands and met my gaze.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said firmly. "I don't know what kind of person your ex was, but I'm not him. And I never will be."
Her lower lip trembled. "But you hate me," she whispered.
I flinched, her words cutting deeper than I expected. "I don't hate you," I said after a moment. "This... situation between us is complicated, but I don't hate you, Kruti."
She sniffled, her tears slowing. "Then what do you feel?"
I opened my mouth to answer but stopped. What did I feel? Confusion? Frustration? A strange, protective urge that I couldn't quite explain?
"I don't know," I finally admitted. "But I know that I don't want to see you like this."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't look away.
"I don't hate you," I added, my voice softening.
Her eyes widened slightly. "But youâ"
"I don't hate you, Kruti," I interrupted. "I might not understand this marriage, and I might not know how to handle... us. But I don't hate you. Don't ever think that."
Her tears spilled over again, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back a sob.
"Come here," I said before I could second-guess myself.
I pulled her into a hug, my arms wrapping around her trembling frame. She stiffened for a moment before leaning into me, her hands clutching my shirt.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled against my chest.
"You don't have to apologize," I said quietly.
"I don't want this," she murmured against my chest.
"I know," I said, my voice thick. "But you're not alone."
We stayed like that for a long time, the silence between us filled with unspoken emotions. For the first time, I allowed myself to just be there for her, to offer her the comfort she needed without overthinking it.
When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were still damp, but there was a faint trace of her usual spark in her eyes.
"Let's go home," I said quietly, standing up and offering her my hand.
She hesitated for only a moment before taking it, her fingers warm and soft in mine. As we walked out of the classroom together, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us.
"What if youâwhat if somedayâ" she whispered, her voice thick with tears
"Stop," I interrupted, my tone firm. "I'm not him, and I never will be. Whatever he did to you... that's not who I am."
"You've changed." She teased.
I spoke up with a faint smirk on my lips, "is that so?"
"Of course! But you're still that grumpy professor."
"If you say so."
For the first time, I wasn't just her professor or her reluctant husband. I was something moreâsomeone she trusted. And that realization both scared and comforted me in equal measure.