Chapter 37: Chapter 27: Lost in the Silence

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Ananya

Our remaining days in Switzerland were filled with laughter, adventure, delicious food, and stolen moments of pure joy. Every second felt magical, not because of the breathtaking scenery or the luxury of our trip, but because of him—Arjun. He made everything feel special. He made me happy.

I've mentally noted to thank Mom for this beautiful gift, for giving me memories I'll cherish forever. These days have been some of the best of my life, moments I'll hold close to my heart. Switzerland will always be special to me now—not just as a place, but as a feeling. A reminder of the warmth, the closeness, and the quiet happiness I found with him.

But no matter how much I wish we could stay here forever, our holiday—well, not just a holiday anymore, our honeymoon—has come to an end. It’s time to return. And yet, there’s no sadness in me. Because my happiness was never just about Switzerland—it was about him. And he’s coming home with me.

As the plane takes off, I steal a glance at Arjun, his gaze fixed on the view outside. A soft smile plays on his lips, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as me—about everything we shared here, about how much has changed between us in such a short time.

I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence. He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers lace through mine, holding me close. And in that quiet moment, I realize something.

Switzerland may have been a dream, but he—this feeling, this connection—is my reality now.

As the plane soars through the clouds, I let out a small sigh, adjusting my position against Arjun’s shoulder. His fingers absentmindedly trace circles on the back of my hand, a touch so gentle yet grounding.

"Already missing Switzerland?" he asks, his voice low, almost teasing.

I shake my head, smiling softly. "Not really. I think... I just liked us there."

Arjun turns slightly, his gaze meeting mine. "You think we’ll be different once we’re back?"

I hesitate, because part of me is nervous. The honeymoon was like a bubble, untouched by responsibilities, work, or family. Once we step off this plane, reality awaits. Will things change?

"You’re overthinking again," he murmurs, squeezing my hand. "You do that a lot."

I roll my eyes. "And you always have something to say about it."

He smirks. "That’s because I know you." Then, after a pause, he adds, "Nothing’s going to change, Firefly. You’re stuck with me now."

His words send a strange warmth through me, and I grip his hand a little tighter. Stuck with him. The thought should scare me, but it doesn’t.

I glance at him, playfully raising a brow. "Is that a warning or a promise?"

His lips curve into a smirk. "Both."

I chuckle, shaking my head. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am overthinking. Because sitting here, in this moment, I don’t feel fear.

I feel... safe.

As the pilot announces our descent, Arjun tilts his head, watching me. "Ready to go home, Mrs. Malhotra?"

My heart skips at the name. Mrs. Malhotra. It still feels new, unfamiliar. But the way he says it, with that teasing lilt and something softer hidden underneath, makes it sound... right.

I smile. "As long as you’re coming with me, always."

♡♡

As we settled back into our daily routine, life quickly fell into its familiar rhythm—home, work, and then home again. I had almost forgotten just how demanding our jobs were while we were in Switzerland. But reality wasted no time reminding me. The workload was overwhelming, almost suffocating. I barely had a moment to breathe after we returned, and on top of that, our team was now gearing up for a major project, preparing to finalize a contract with a new company. The pressure was intense, and everyone was giving it their all.

But amidst the chaos, one thing remained unchanged—us. Arjun and I. And that, without a doubt, is my favorite part of this whole exhausting routine.

Arjun, though—God help me—he never misses a chance to make my heart race. Even at work, where we’re supposed to be professional, he finds ways to fluster me. Sometimes, when I’m deeply focused on a report or lost in a discussion, he suddenly appears out of nowhere, his voice a low whisper near my ear.

"Miss Kapoor," he teases, deliberately using my maiden name in that husky tone, "you seem quite busy. Should I schedule an appointment just to get a moment of your attention?"

I always roll my eyes, but the smirk he gives me makes my stomach flip.

Other times, when no one is watching, he catches me off guard—brushing his fingers against mine as he hands me a file, standing a little too close when discussing work, his breath fanning against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. And when he’s feeling particularly bold, he presses a quick, secretive kiss to my temple or cheek, his lips gone before I can even react.

"You should be more alert, Mrs. Malhotra," he murmurs, leaving me red-faced and flustered.

And it’s not just that—he finds the most ridiculous ways to tease me. Like the time I was reviewing a contract, deep in concentration, only to find a sticky note stuck to my laptop.

"Thinking about me? Don’t worry, I’m thinking about you too. - Your CEO & Husband"

I had glared at him across the room, but he only winked before returning to his serious business mode, leaving me burning in embarrassment.

It would be a lie if I said I didn’t like it. Because I do. Every stolen glance, every whispered tease, every subtle touch—it’s what keeps me sane amidst the workload.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s what makes coming to work every day a little more exciting.

It feels like we’re secretly dating at the office—thrilling, forbidden, and utterly intoxicating.

♡♡

Like every day, Arjun and I arrived at the office together, but as usual, we parted ways at the parking lot—well, almost. He never lets me go without stealing a kiss.

And not just a quick peck. No, Arjun Malhotra kisses like he owns every second of it. His lips moved over mine with a slow, deliberate intensity, stealing my breath, making my heart race. By the time he pulled away, I was left dizzy, gripping his shirt for balance.

I shot him a glare, trying to appear annoyed, but the heat rising to my cheeks betrayed me.

"You do realize we’re at work, right?" I huffed, straightening my blazer.

Arjun smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of my lips as if savoring the moment. "And? Who’s going to suspect the oh-so-professional Mrs. Malhotra?"

I rolled my eyes, turning away before he could fluster me even more. But as I walked toward the entrance, I couldn't fight the small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. I loved the way he made me feel.

As soon as I stepped onto our office floor, I slipped into work mode, greeting my team with my usual cheerful "Good morning, everyone!" before settling at my desk. I was ready to dive into work, still carrying the warmth of Arjun’s touch.

But my happiness wasn’t meant to last.

A sudden ping echoed across the floor. Then another. And another. One by one, notifications lit up on everyone's phones. A ripple of silence fell over the room, and when I finally looked up, I felt a strange tension in the air.

All around me, eyes were fixed on their screens. But what made my stomach twist was the way those eyes slowly lifted—toward me.

Not with their usual smiles. Not with the camaraderie I was used to.

But with disgust.

Cold, judging, piercing stares bore into me. Whispers passed between them, low but sharp enough that I could feel them cutting through the air.

My chest tightened. What the hell is going on?

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep my posture straight. "Is… something wrong?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease creeping into me.

No one answered. No one needed to. The way they were looking at me said enough.

And I had no idea why.

I tried to ignore the strange tension in the office, forcing myself to focus on my work. But no matter how hard I tried, the whispers never stopped. I could feel them—hushed voices just loud enough for me to hear, sharp glances thrown my way before quickly looking away. It was unsettling.

Still, I pushed through, telling myself I was overthinking. Maybe I was just imagining things.

But then, when I went to the coffee area to grab my usual morning coffee, I heard them.

"That’s how she got here. Disgusting."

I froze mid-step.

"Oh God… I knew there was something off. It’s not easy to pass the interview process here." Another woman scoffed, her voice dripping with judgment.

"She got in the easy way," a man added, and laughter followed—low, mocking, cruel.

A chill ran down my spine. I had no idea who they were talking about, but something about the way they were laughing made my stomach churn.

Then they noticed me.

Their laughter died instantly, their expressions shifting—some into feigned indifference, others into open hostility. They didn’t say a word as they walked past me, but their eyes spoke volumes.

I swallowed hard, gripping my coffee cup tightly. My hands felt cold despite the warmth of the drink. What the hell was happening?

As I turned back toward my desk, I spotted Isha, one of my colleagues, watching me with something unreadable in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.

"Did you see that?" she asked quietly.

I frowned. "See what?"

She exhaled sharply, then pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward me.

The moment my eyes landed on it, my heart stopped.

Photos. Dozens of them.

Me and Arjun. In Switzerland.

Us laughing, standing too close, touching. Kissing.

My breath hitched. My mind struggled to process what I was looking at.

How? How did these end up on everyone’s phone?

Before I could even begin to wrap my head around it, the taunts started.

"So this is why she got the job."

"Slept with the CEO, huh? What else could it be?"

"We know girls like her. Always using their bodies to climb up the ladder."

"Married, but still can’t stop seducing the CEO. God knows how many men she’s slept with."

"Such a disgraceful woman."

The words hit me like blows, each one slicing deeper than the last. My chest tightened, my breathing turned shallow.

No. No, this isn’t happening.

My throat felt dry, and my vision blurred. I needed to get out. I needed to breathe.

"I—Excuse me," I managed to mumble before rushing away.

I didn’t know where I was going. My legs carried me blindly until I found myself at the stairwell. As soon as I knew I was alone, I pressed my back against the cold wall, my knees giving out beneath me.

And then, it hit me.

The panic.

It crashed over me in waves—sharp, suffocating, relentless. My chest ached as I gasped for air, but it wasn’t enough. My fingers trembled as I clutched them against my arms, trying to ground myself, but the walls felt like they were closing in.

The whispers. The judgment. The disgust in their eyes.

The past. Vicky.

My breath hitched violently, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories away, willing the shame to disappear.

Not again. Please, not again.

But it was too late. The panic had its grip on me, and I was spiraling.

My breaths came in short, uneven gasps as I clutched my arms tightly around myself, trying—failing—to stop the shaking. My head felt light, my chest tight, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get enough air.

The walls felt like they were closing in. The whispers, the taunts, the disgust in their voices—they wouldn’t stop replaying in my head.

"She slept her way to the top."

"Girls like her… we know what they’re capable of."

"God knows how many men she’s been with."

My stomach twisted painfully. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to block it all out. But my mind wouldn’t stop racing. It took me back—back to him, to that night, to the suffocating fear, to the helplessness.

No. No.

I pressed my hands against my ears as if that could silence the voices, the past, the shame threatening to consume me. My body felt like it wasn’t my own, like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

And then—

"Firefly! "

The sound of my name cut through the fog. A firm, warm hand grasped my wrist. I flinched, my eyes snapping open in panic—only to meet his.

Arjun.

His brows were furrowed in deep concern, his breathing uneven like he had run to find me. His grip on my wrist was gentle but grounding, like he knew I was barely holding on.

“Hey… breathe,” he said softly, crouching down to my level. “Look at me. Just look at me.”

My vision blurred again, but this time, it wasn’t from panic—it was from the tears I had been trying to hold back.

"Ar-Arjun… go," I managed to say between ragged breaths, my voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't be here. I'm… fine."

I didn’t dare look at him. I couldn't. Not again. The first time he had seen me like this had been overwhelming enough, but now… now I was too aware of myself, too conscious of how broken I must seem.

I heard him take a sharp breath before his voice came, low and commanding. "Shut up, Ananya. Just look at me, goddamn it."

When I still didn’t, when I kept my gaze fixed on the cold floor, his voice softened into something raw, something pleading.

"Please." A pause. A shaky inhale. "Please, baby. Just look at me."

His words cracked something inside me. My lips trembled, and for a second, I almost gave in. Almost let him see all of it. But I fought it. I forced my hands to grip my own arms instead of reaching for him.

"I—I can’t," I choked out.

"Yes, you can," he said, firmer this time. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his palm warm and steady against my cold skin. "You’re safe, Ananya. With me, you’re safe. Just breathe, okay? Slowly."

His thumb brushed against my cheekbone, grounding me. I clung to that touch, to his voice, anything to pull myself out of the spiral.

"In… and out," he coached gently, exaggerating his breaths so I could follow. "With me."

I tried. I really did. But my chest still ached, my mind still spiraled. He must have noticed, because the next thing he did completely caught me off guard.

He pulled me into his arms.

Strong. Steady. Safe.

His scent surrounded me, familiar and comforting, blocking out the ugliness of everything outside this moment. His hand cradled the back of my head, his touch protective yet unbearably tender.

"I’ve got you, Firefly" he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair. "No one can touch you. No one."

I exhaled shakily, my fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. My body still felt tense, my mind still restless, but… it was better. The storm was passing.

I wasn’t crying, not fully—just burning eyes and a tight throat, emotions pressing against the edges of my control. But I wasn’t falling apart.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

As my breathing steadied and the panic finally loosened its grip on me, Arjun ran a soothing hand through my hair. His touch was gentle, reassuring.

"Let’s go, Firefly," he murmured, his voice softer now, but firm. He took my wrist, ready to lead me away.

But I shook my head, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground.

I could fight thousands of battles on my own. I had always fought alone. But not like this. Not in front of Arjun.

Not when he would be there—watching, listening—hearing every filthy, cruel thing my colleagues had been saying about me.

No. I couldn’t do this.

How could I defend myself?

What could I possibly say?

The photos were real. Every single one of them. But they didn’t define my character. They shouldn’t.

Not when all I did was be with my husband. Not when there was nothing shameful in that.

But they didn’t know that. And yet, they judged me. My ability, my worth, my integrity—all of it reduced to a cruel, baseless assumption.

I could end it all with just one sentence. We’re married.

But I won’t.

Because that was the only thing Arjun had ever asked of me—to keep our marriage private.

And no matter how much they tore me apart, no matter how much their words burned, I would not break my promise to him.

I clenched my fists, swallowing the lump in my throat. I just didn’t understand how my happiness had turned into this. How, in the span of a few hours, everything had shattered.

Why did it always have to be this way?

Why?

Why me?

"Baby," Arjun’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, low and insistent. "Please look at me when you talk. I hate it when you won’t meet my gaze."

Before I could resist, he cupped my face, tilting it up until my eyes had no choice but to find his. His expression was unreadable at first, but his eyes…

His eyes were burning. Not with anger, not with frustration—but with something deeper. Something unshakable.

"I promise you," he said, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. "I’ll make everything right." His voice cracked just slightly, like the weight of seeing me like this was too much for him to bear.

"Please, Firefly," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine for a fleeting second before pulling back. "Trust me. Come with me. Everything will be fine."

And this time, when he took my hand, I didn’t stop him.

This time, I let him take me with him.

To face them.

Arjun

After dropping Ananya off at the office, I had to meet Karan for an important matter. It took longer than expected, but when I finally returned, all I could think about was seeing my Firefly. Seeing her smile.

But instead, I walked into a nightmare.

Ananya was storming out of the main hall, her face pale, her steps unsteady. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I was about to follow her when I heard them.

The whispers.

The laughter.

The filth they were saying about my Ananya.

"Just let her go. She’s disgusting."

"Ms. Ananya Kapoor slept her way to the top."

"Girls like her… we know exactly what they’re capable of."

"God knows how many men she’s been with."

Rage. Blinding, uncontrollable rage flooded through me.

I didn’t think—I couldn’t think. I was already grabbing the nearest man by the collar before I knew what I was doing.

"What the fuck did you just say?" My voice was deadly low, but the venom in it was unmistakable.

The man paled, his confidence wavering. “S-Sir… we were just stating the truth. The photos—”

He shoved his phone into my hand, and the moment my eyes landed on the screen, my heart dropped.

Our photos.

From Switzerland.

Ananya and I—together, laughing, touching, kissing.

I scrolled through them, my grip on the phone tightening with every image. If there had been even a single inappropriate picture of her, I would have murdered whoever was behind this.

Not like I’m sparing him anyway.

With a swift, brutal motion, I crushed the phone in my hand and threw the shattered remains to the ground.

Then, without another word, I turned and walked away.

Not because I was letting this go.

But because she needed me more.

I took the stairs two at a time, my chest tight, my mind racing.

She was alone.

She was hurting.

And right now, nothing in the world mattered more than getting to her.

When I reached her, my heart stopped.

Ananya was on the ground, trembling, struggling to breathe.

A panic attack.

And she was dealing with it alone.

Still holding back her tears.

Why?

Why did she always have to carry everything on her own? Why did she always believe she had to take care of herself alone?

"Firefly!" I dropped to my knees in front of her, desperation clawing at my chest. "Breathe, baby. Please. Look at me."

“Hey… breathe,” I said softer this time, crouching to her level, trying to pull her out of it. Trying to reach her.

"Just look at me."

Her body shuddered as she gasped for air. “Ar-Arjun… go,” she whispered between ragged breaths. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m… fine.”

Fine?

I wanted to destroy everything.

She was pushing me away. Again.

And I hated it more than anything.

"Shut up, Ananya." My voice was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stand this.

I grabbed her face, forcing her to focus on me. "Just look at me, goddamn it."

Her lips parted, a shaky inhale.

"Please." My voice dropped to a plea. "Please, baby. Just look at me."

“I—I can’t,” she choked out, her whole body still tense.

"Yes, you can."

My hands cradled her cheeks.

She was cold.

Damn it.

"You’re safe, Ananya. With me, you’re safe." I stroked my thumb along her skin, desperate to ground her. "Just breathe, okay? Slowly."

I exaggerated my own breaths so she could follow. “In… and out.”

"With me."

Minutes passed, but eventually, I felt the tension in her body start to ease.

She was calming down.

"I’ve got you, Firefly," I murmured, pulling her closer, my arms tightening around her. "No one can touch you. No one."

And I meant it.

When her breathing finally steadied, I whispered, “Let’s go, Firefly.”

I took her wrist, ready to lead her away.

But she didn’t move.

Instead, she shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

She still wasn’t looking at me.

She had been avoiding my eyes from the moment I got here.

And it was breaking me in ways I hadn’t even realized were possible.

"Baby," I said softly, tilting her chin up, needing her to see me. "Please look at me when you talk. I hate it when you won’t meet my gaze."

My thumb traced her cheek, my voice firm. "I promise you, I’ll make everything right."

I pressed my forehead against hers for a fleeting second, closing my eyes, trying to pour every ounce of reassurance I had into her.

"Trust me."

"Come with me. Everything will be fine."

Because I needed her to trust me.

I fucking needed that.

And when I took her hand this time—

She let me.

And as I led her out, one thing was crystal clear—

No one was getting away with hurting my Firefly.

They questioned her.

Her character.

Her ability.

They said she tried to seduce me even though she’s married.

Like seriously?

The moment Ananya and I stepped in front of them, I had only one intention—to make them pay.

"So, what were you all saying?" My voice was dangerously calm, my grip on Ananya’s hand tightening. "She did what?"

I felt her attempt to pull her hand away when everyone’s eyes locked onto our intertwined fingers.

But I didn’t let go.

I never will.

"Sir, we were just stating the facts," one of the fuckers dared to speak. "The photos say everything."

Another voice chimed in, venom lacing every word. "Sir, she tried to seduce you. Do you even know that she’s married?"

A woman this time.

A woman.

And yet, she was still blaming another woman.

Not just any woman—my woman.

"Sir, she’s just a bitch using her body to sleep around, even after getting married."

That was it.

"Shut up."

My voice was ice, sharp enough to slice through the air.

Ananya flinched at the rage in my tone. I could feel her struggling against my grip again, trying to pull away.

And it hurt.

That she still wanted to run. That she thought she had to.

But I wasn’t letting her go.

"Shut the fuck up."

Silence.

Dead, suffocating silence.

"She didn’t do anything wrong." My voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt.

I lifted our intertwined hands for them to see. "Because she is my wife. My official wife. All she did was travel with her husband—me."

Gasps. Whispers. Stares.

I ignored them all.

"But, sir… she’s already married," someone muttered.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.

"So am I."

I raised my other hand, flashing my wedding ring for them to see.

"And most importantly," I continued, my voice low and lethal, "we are married to each other. Do you understand?"

Their faces twisted with shock, some in guilt, others in sheer disbelief.

But I didn’t care about their reactions.

I cared about her.

About what I’d done.

I did this.

I was the one who wanted to keep our marriage a secret. I was the one who convinced her to stay silent.

And because of that, she went through all of this.

I felt sick.

I wanted to punch every single person in this room.

But more than anything—

I wanted to kill myself for putting her through this.

"Aur agar kisi ne meri biwi par dobara kichad uchalne ki himmat bhi ki..." My voice was ice-cold, burning with barely contained rage.

"To mujhse bura koi nahi hoga."

(And if anyone dares to throw dirt at my wife again—there will be no one worse than me.)

And I fucking meant it.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. No one dared to speak, no one dared to move. Good. Because if anyone had so much as breathed the wrong way, I would have lost it.

But my focus wasn’t on them.

It was on her.

I turned to Ananya, her face unreadable, her fingers still limp in my grasp. She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked at me properly since this entire mess began. That hurt more than anything.

“Firefly,” I murmured, my voice softer now, meant only for her.

She blinked, as if snapping out of a daze, but she still wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Let’s go,” I said, squeezing her hand gently.

She hesitated, eyes flickering to the crowd that had just torn her apart with their words. The judgment was still there, lingering, even if they knew the truth now.

I clenched my jaw. Fuck them.

I wasn’t going to let her stay here a second longer.

With a firm grip, I led her through the room, ignoring the hushed whispers that followed. No one dared to stop us. They wouldn’t dare now.

But just as we were about to step out—

"Sir…"

I stopped dead in my tracks, slowly turning my head to the man who had spoken. He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, but still had the audacity to ask—

"If she really is your wife… why did you hide it. We didn't get any news of your marriage."

A loaded question.

And one that I didn’t even have a good enough answer for.

I felt Ananya tense beside me. I knew she was waiting, just like them, for me to say something.

"I don't have to announce everything I do." Saying that I went away with Ananya because I didn’t owe them an explanation.

I owed her.

Without a word, I turned back around and walked out, taking my wife with me.

The second we stepped into my office, I let go of her hand, running a frustrated hand through my hair. I couldn’t look at her, not yet. The weight of my own mistakes was pressing down on me like a storm.

I had never regretted something so much in my life.

I opened the passenger door and said, “Get in.” She obeyed without a word.

The drive home was silent. I had no idea what she was thinking or how many questions were running through her mind. I could only grip the steering wheel tighter, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me.

When we reached our apartment, we stepped inside, but the silence followed us like a shadow. We stood in the living room, the air between us heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, she broke it.

"Arjun..." Her voice was small, hesitant.

I exhaled harshly, running a hand through my hair before turning to face her. She was looking at me now, her eyes filled with emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. Pain? Anger? Disappointment?

Then, softly, she said, "I’m sorry."

I frowned. That was the last thing I expected.

"You... didn't want them to know about our marriage," she continued, her voice laced with guilt. "But because of me... I'm sorry."

She wouldn’t even look at me. And that? That hurt.

She thinks that matters more to me than her? More than the fact that she was hurting? That she had a panic attack? And that it was because of me?

But instead of worrying about herself, she thinks I’m upset just because my employees found out about our marriage? The same marriage I just announced without hesitation?

That’s what she believes I care about right now?

Anger simmered beneath my skin. Unbelievable.

Why? Why does she always do this? Why does she put others first, never herself?

Why can’t she see that she is hurt too? That she’s the one hurting the most?

She always tries to handle everything alone, to face every battle on her own. Even when she was having a panic attack, she tried to push me away.

"Ananya... you really think I care? That I care about some useless request I made months ago?" My voice was low, but the sharp edge of my anger was impossible to miss.

She flinched, and I hated it. Not because I was being harsh, but because she truly believed it. She really thought I was angry about that.

"Do you think that’s what upsets me the most? Seriously?" I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. How could she not see it?

I turned back to her, my gaze locking onto hers. "And most importantly, why did you do that?"

She frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"Why didn’t you call me when you were having a panic attack?"

Silence.

She looked away.

"Don’t look away, Ananya. Look at me." I stepped closer, gripping her arms gently but firmly, forcing her to meet my gaze.

"And you even tried to push me away when I came to you. Why?" My voice was raw now, laced with frustration, hurt, and something dangerously close to desperation.

"Tell me, Ananya. Why?"

She still didn’t answer.

"Do you still think you're alone? That you have to handle everything on your own? Or is it that you don’t trust me?" My grip tightened slightly, not to hurt her, but to ground her. To make her listen.

"Tell me if you don’t trust me," I challenged, my heart pounding in my chest. "Because you never even told me why you have these panic attacks. And that’s okay. Take your time. I won’t force you. But can’t you just let me in?"

My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded.

"Can’t you just let me take care of you?" My breath was uneven now, my chest rising and falling with the weight of everything I was feeling.

"Can’t you just let your tears fall freely when you’re hurt? When you need to? At least in my arms? Or have I failed so badly that you don’t even believe I’ll hold you when you cry?"

She was silent.

She had no answer.

I let out a hollow laugh, one that held no amusement. Only pain.

I released her, stepping back as something inside me cracked.

"Go to bed, Ananya," I said, turning away.

"Arjun... I..." She started, her voice hesitant, but I couldn’t do this right now.

I couldn’t stand here and look at her, knowing that no matter what I did, she still chose to suffer alone.

I cut her off, my voice weary. "Please. Just listen to me."

She listened. And then she went to bed.

But I didn’t.

I was still in our living room, staring at nothing, feeling everything.

I hate this.

I hate that we fought. Though, was it really a fight? No raised voices, no accusations—just raw, aching silence between us. But maybe that’s worse.

But what I hate most—what rips me apart—is the thought of how much she has suffered. How long she had to take care of herself alone that now, even when she wants to let me in, she can’t.

I know she’s trying. I see it in the way she lets me hold her, in the way she reaches for me when she thinks I won’t notice. But it’s hard for her. And I understand.

But it still hurts.

It kills me to see her holding back her tears, as if breaking in front of me is something she isn’t allowed to do.

How much has she been holding inside that now even crying feels impossible? That letting someone see her cry feels like a weakness?

I run a hand over my face, exhaling harshly.

I don’t just want to be the man she trusts.

I want to be the man she leans on.

I don’t know how long I sat there, lost in my thoughts, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The room was silent, but my mind wasn’t. It was filled with her—her trembling hands, her broken voice, the way she looked away instead of looking at me.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, rubbing my face in frustration.

I should have protected her.

I should have seen this coming.

I should have never asked her to keep our marriage a secret.

My jaw clenched at the memory of the disgust in their voices, the way they tore her down, questioning her character, her abilities—her worth. And she just took it. Without fighting back. Without screaming at them, the way she should have.

Because she’s used to it.

Because she’s always had to fight alone.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

I can’t change her past. I can’t erase the wounds that made her this way.

But I can make sure she never feels alone again.

I exhaled heavily, standing up. My body ached from tension, but I ignored it. Instead, I turned toward our bedroom.

I pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. She was curled up on her side, her back facing me, arms wrapped around herself.

As if she was holding herself together.

My chest tightened.

Slowly, I walked to the bed and sat on the edge beside her. She was asleep, her face turned away, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to shield herself even in sleep.

I exhaled softly before lying down beside her. Carefully, I pulled her closer, turning her toward me without disturbing her rest. As her head settled against my arm, I wrapped my other arm securely around her waist, holding her against me.

Even in sleep, she tensed for a moment before letting out a soft sigh, her body instinctively relaxing into mine.

She needed this.

She needed me.

And I would be here. Always.

I pressed a silent kiss to the top of her head, inhaling deeply.

No matter what it takes, no matter what battles I have to fight—I’ll hold her, protect her, and stand beside her.

Every time she needs me.

In every situation.

I promise.

Ananya

The warmth of the morning sun streamed through the windows, nudging me awake. I blinked against the light, stretching slightly before instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.

My fingers brushed against the cold sheets.

Arjun wasn’t there.

A dull ache formed in my chest as my mind raced with possibilities. Did he leave early? Did he not sleep beside me at all? But no… I felt him. I knew I did. The way he pulled me close last night, the steady rhythm of his breathing against my skin—I wasn’t imagining that.

So then, why wasn’t he here now?

And why did it feel like he was still upset with me?

I curled my fingers into the sheets, trying to push the thought away, but it was useless. My mind was stuck replaying every moment from last night. The way his voice hardened when he called me Ananya—not Firefly, not baby. Not in the way he usually did, with warmth laced into every syllable. This time, it felt different. Like he was struggling to say it at all.

My heart clenched.

He was hurt. I saw it. In his words. In his eyes.

And I hurt him.

I knew it was stupid to apologize to him for revealing our marriage. I knew he didn’t care about that. He wasn’t angry because people found out. He was angry because I still tried to carry everything alone. Because I didn’t call him when I needed him the most.

And yet, a part of me still couldn’t stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, he should have been upset about it. Because when he first asked me to keep our marriage a secret, it hurt. I accepted it, I understood his reasons, but it still hurt.

Maybe that’s why, deep down, I always assumed he’d regret it being out in the open.

I exhaled shakily, rubbing my temples.

But that wasn’t what truly upset him.

He was hurting because I still hadn’t told him about my panic attacks. About the real reason behind them. And the worst part?

I didn’t know if I could tell him.

Because once I did, once those words left my lips, I couldn’t take them back. And if—if—he looked at me differently after that, if he saw me as tainted or broken, I wouldn’t survive it.

What if he left?

What if he hated me?

My breath hitched.

No. I couldn’t think about that right now.

Shoving the thoughts aside, I forced myself out of bed. I needed to pull myself together. I freshened up quickly, trying not to let the anxiety settle too deep in my chest. But as I stepped into the living room, my eyes caught something on the coffee table.

A letter.

My stomach twisted.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached for it.

I'm going to London for a business trip. I'll be back in a few days.

— Arjun.

That was it.

That was all he left me with.

No explanation. No proper goodbye. Not even a single word spoken before he walked out the door.

I stared at the letter, my fingers tightening around the paper as my chest constricted with something sharp and suffocating.

Anger. Hurt.

Disappointment.

He left.

He left without facing me, without giving me a chance to say anything. And the worst part? He probably didn’t even want to see me before he left. Maybe that’s why he did it like this—to avoid me.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

Why does this hurt so much?

I knew he was upset last night. I could feel it in every word he spoke, in the way he looked at me like he was breaking from the inside out. But I never thought he would leave like this.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, but it was useless. The pain had already settled in, deep and unrelenting.

This wasn’t just about him leaving for a business trip. It was about us.

About the way we stood on opposite sides of something neither of us knew how to fix.

I clenched the letter in my fists, my vision blurring as the weight of it all crashed down on me.

I should’ve told him the truth.

I should’ve let him in.

But now he was gone. And I was alone. Again.

The apartment felt emptier without him. Too quiet, too still.

I sat on the couch, staring at the crumpled letter in my hands, my mind spinning in circles.

I knew I should get up. Go about my day. Pretend like it didn’t matter that he left like this.

But it did. It did matter.

I hugged my knees to my chest, resting my forehead against them.

Why did I do this? Why do I always push people away when all I want is for them to stay?

I knew Arjun wasn’t leaving me forever. It was just a business trip. He would come back. He said he would.

But my heart didn’t know how to believe it. Not when I had spent years convincing myself that people always leave.

That’s why I never let anyone in. That’s why I had built my walls so high. Because the moment you let someone too close, they have the power to hurt you.

And Arjun? He wasn’t just close. He was inside every layer of my defenses, standing in the very place I had sworn to protect.

And now, he was gone.

I closed my eyes and exhaled shakily.

No. He wasn’t gone. Not really. He would be back.

But… what if he came back different? What if this distance between us grew wider? What if I had already ruined everything?

I wiped at my eyes before any tears could fall.

I needed to do something. Sitting here, drowning in my own thoughts, wasn’t going to change anything.

So I stood up, forcing myself to move.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. But I knew one thing—

When Arjun came back, I couldn’t keep running. I had to fix this. I had to find a way to tell him the truth.

Because losing him? That wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

♡♡

I'm in my way to office. I couldn't bear to stay at home where Arjun wasn't there. So here I am.

As the elevator ascended, my heart pounded against my ribs. I clenched my fists, bracing myself for what awaited on the other side of those steel doors. Yesterday, they had ripped me apart with their words, thrown dirt on my name like I was nothing. And because of them… because of everything that happened… Arjun left. Doesn't matter if it was for business but he left.

But not today.

Today, if they so much as whispered, if they dared to look at me with judgment in their eyes, I wouldn’t spare them. Not anymore.

The elevator dinged, and as the doors slid open, I stepped into the office, head held high, shoulders squared.

Silence.

Not the hostile, tension-filled silence I was expecting. No hushed whispers. No lingering, accusing gazes.

Instead—

“Ananya!”

Before I could react, Isha pulled me into a tight hug. My entire body stiffened for a second before I let myself relax into her warmth.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling back just enough to study my face.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I… yeah.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Liar.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” she said firmly. “You’re not alone. And you don’t have to act like you are.”

I blinked at her, caught off guard by the intensity of her words.

Then I noticed something else—most of the people around me were unfamiliar. New faces. The ones who had humiliated me yesterday? They were gone.

Confused, I turned to Dev, who had been watching silently. He gestured for me to follow, and Isha grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the coffee area.

“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing between them. “Where is everyone?”

Dev smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Gone.”

“Gone?” I repeated.

“Fired,” Isha clarified, crossing her arms. “Every. Single. One. Of. Them.”

My breath caught.

“Yesterday night,” Dev continued, “Our CEO Mr. Arjun Malhotra personally saw to it that they were removed. Every person who disrespected you, every person who had the audacity to question your integrity—they’re gone. And he made it very clear that you’re here because of your hard work. Not because you’re his wife.”

My heart clenched.

Arjun did that?

For me?

I didn’t know whether to smile or cry. I felt… overwhelmed. Touched. Angry. Grateful. A mess of emotions that I couldn’t even begin to untangle.

But more than anything, I missed him.

I missed him so much it physically hurt.

I stared down at my coffee, my fingers tightening around the cup.

“Then why did he leave like that?” I whispered.

Isha and Dev exchanged glances, their expressions softening with understanding, but neither of them spoke. It was clear they knew something more than I did, but neither was ready to break the silence.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask again, but the question echoed in my mind over and over. Why did he leave like that?

The door to the coffee area creaked open, and the sound made me look up. It was just one of the new employees, someone I hadn’t met yet. They greeted me, but I barely heard them. My thoughts were still lost in a whirlpool of confusion and hurt.

I didn’t want to stay at the office, but I couldn’t go back home either. The house felt too empty, a constant reminder of Arjun, and all the memories we had made together there. Even at work, my eyes kept drifting toward his office, as if he might walk out any second and reassure me that everything would be okay. Did he make it to London? He would call me, right? He wouldn’t just leave me in silence... Wouldn’t he?

I glanced at my phone again, my heart sinking when I saw there were no calls or messages. The hours passed, and the ache in my chest only grew heavier. The evening crept in, and soon, it was time for me to go home. Still, no call. He must not have reached yet, I told myself, trying to convince my racing thoughts. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called.

The taxi ride home felt longer than usual. The silence between us, the absence of his presence, felt suffocating. We used to leave and come back together, every day. It felt like a routine, one that kept me grounded. But now, I was alone. I entered the house, the emptiness hitting me like a wave. I checked my phone again. No call.

I took a shower, my mind still buzzing with unanswered questions. I hardly ate dinner. He should’ve called by now. Shouldn’t he have? But the phone remained silent. And as the night stretched on, I found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Still no call.

It was midnight now, the cold silence unbearable. I checked my phone again, desperate for some sign from him. It was 1 AM. No call. Then, finally, my phone buzzed. I almost jumped out of bed. His message flashed across the screen: "I’ve reached."

I stared at it for a moment, feeling the sting of something I couldn’t quite name. He didn’t call. Just a message. After all this time, he hadn’t even bothered to call me. I tried calling him back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. I could barely breathe as my heart shattered into pieces. He hadn’t called. I needed to hear his voice so badly, to know he was okay, but he didn’t call.

He didn’t even tell me the exact date of his return. The uncertainty gnawed at me, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness in its wake. I hated this feeling—the helplessness of depending on someone, of waiting without knowing when or if things would return to normal. But no matter how much I despised it, I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop needing him, wanting him by my side, even when my pride screamed at me to let go. The ache of his absence felt unbearable, and no matter how much I tried to fight it, I was helpless in this sea of uncertainty.

I let the phone slip from my hand and sank back into the pillows, trying to sleep.

But sleep didn’t come.

After hours, as the minutes dragged on, my body grew heavy, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. Then, like an unstoppable force, my nightmares returned. Images of the past, of Vicky, of things I had buried so deep, surfaced, uninvited. I woke up suddenly, heart racing, breath short, sweat pooling on my skin. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe.

I sat up in bed, trembling. I was scared. Why now? I thought I was over this. I thought that after everything, after marrying Arjun, I was finally free. Free from the past, free from the memories that tormented me. But I was wrong.

My mind was racing, thoughts colliding in a chaotic mess. It had been so long since I’d had a nightmare. Since the day we got married, the darkness from my past had stayed away, buried under the safety of Arjun’s presence. But now, with the weight of everything pressing down on me, I knew it was only a matter of time before they returned. The nightmares, the memories, everything that haunted me—came crashing back, suffocating me in their intensity.

I could feel my vision blurring, my chest tightening with each passing second. The edges of my thoughts started to fray, and I could no longer tell where my memories ended and where the fear began. My breath quickened, and I could feel the panic clawing at my insides. No, not again... I thought, my pulse racing as the shadows of my past crept back, demanding attention.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t escape the feeling of helplessness that threatened to overtake me. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out all else. I was slipping, spiraling into that familiar darkness, and it terrified me.

I glanced to the other side of the bed. The other side was empty. I couldn’t help but feel the absence of Arjun there. Only when he was with me did I feel safe enough to sleep without fear. Without the nightmares. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath, but the fear was too much.

The bed felt too large without him. I missed the warmth of his body beside me, the comfort of his arms wrapped around me. I needed him. But he wasn’t here. And the emptiness, the fear, seemed to swallow me whole. I lay back down, burying my face in the pillow, desperately wishing I could close my eyes and fall back into a peaceful sleep. But the nightmares keep returning. And without Arjun, I didn’t know if I could face them alone.

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