Chapter 42: chapter 42

Arranged loveWords: 7676

Back at her apartment, Aarohi threw her purse onto the bed and sat down, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. She picked up her phone, trembling slightly, and opened the messages from the unknown number.

Her heart skipped a beat when another picture loaded. It was a photo of Vihaan, smiling, his eyes sparkling with joy. His face was bright, a genuine, soft smile that seemed to speak volumes. But what caught her attention even more was the caption: “This is how he looks when he’s in love.”

Aarohi’s eyes scanned the picture again, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. There was something different about the way he looked in the photo. He wasn’t just happy—he looked in love. The warmth in his expression made her heart ache.

But then, her eyes moved to the next picture, and her stomach dropped.

It was Vihaan kissing the hand of the girl who had taken the photo. He was holding her hand gently, looking up at her with a tenderness that Aarohi had never seen before. The look in his eyes... it wasn’t something she imagined. It was real. It wasn’t edited.

Aarohi felt her world shift. The doubt in her mind, the things she had pushed away, were suddenly all too real. She had never seen him look at her like that, never experienced that kind of affection. Her hands shook as she stared at the image.

It was clear now. He wasn’t being honest with her. He was hiding something.

Her mind spiraled as she thought about everything—the marriage that was supposed to bring them together, the promises he had made. Was this the real reason he didn’t want to go through with it? Did he not want to be with her, but someone else?

Aarohi felt a sharp pang in her chest. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. She needed answers. If he was hiding something, she had to find out what it was.

---

Determined to get the truth, Aarohi took a deep breath and picked up her phone. She called Vihaan. Her finger hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed the call button.

When he answered, his voice was hesitant, as if unsure of what she wanted to say.

“Aarohi... what’s going on? Are you okay?”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "Meet me tomorrow. Same cafe. I need to talk to you."

There was a long pause, then Vihaan’s voice came through, careful but soft. "Aarohi, please, let’s not—"

"No," she interrupted him. "I need to clear things up. Please. I need to know what’s going on."

She hung up before he could respond. She couldn’t hear him right now. All she could hear was the sound of her own racing heartbeat and the question that kept repeating in her head: Why was he hiding so much?

Aarohi sat alone at the café, her hands tightly clutching her coffee cup. The unease in her chest gnawed at her, and the weight of the pictures she’d seen only grew heavier with each passing second. She had hoped for an explanation when she called him here, but everything was spiraling out of control. The pictures—those haunting images—were real, and they were impossible to ignore.

Vihaan stepped inside the café, his usual confident stride now absent. His face was a mask of tension, a mix of anticipation and guilt. He sat down across from Aarohi without saying a word. His eyes briefly met hers, but neither of them knew where to begin.

Aarohi didn’t waste time. She slid her phone across the table, showing him the pictures that had tormented her. She watched his expression change as he glanced at the images—the ones of him smiling and laughing with a girl. The pictures were full of warmth, with him looking genuinely happy, even kissing the girl’s hand in one shot. His eyes shone with affection in every frame.

“What is this, Vihaan?” Aarohi’s voice was steady, but the hurt was evident. “Why do you look so... in love in these pictures?”

The air between them thickened as Vihaan stared at the phone in front of him. His face paled slightly, and he seemed to freeze. His eyes flickered with something—guilt, confusion, or maybe even regret—but still, no explanation came. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Aarohi’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she waited for him to speak. But he didn’t.

Vihaan’s silence was deafening. Aarohi’s patience started to wear thin. She needed answers, needed him to explain why the pictures—those pictures—looked so real, so intimate. Why did they appear so full of love?

“Vihaan, please,” Aarohi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

His lips trembled as if he were about to speak, but still, the words wouldn’t come.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Vihaan said the only thing he could bring himself to say: “The pictures are real.”

Aarohi’s eyes widened, a shock running through her. He didn’t deny it. There was no attempt to explain, to ease her confusion. “What do you mean by that? Why are you with her? Why is it so intimate? Why are you kissing her?”

Vihaan’s eyes darted to the table, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t speak. The silence between them felt like a wall that grew higher with each passing moment. Aarohi’s frustration and hurt began to boil over.

"Is this why you didn’t want the marriage? To be with her?" Aarohi’s voice broke. "Why are you doing this to me, Vihaan?"

Still, Vihaan said nothing. His eyes, once so full of determination and control, now seemed distant and unreadable. Aarohi could feel the anger rising in her chest, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. This was it—this was the moment when everything was supposed to make sense. But instead, it only felt like a cruel joke.

Without another word, Vihaan stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He didn’t look back at her as he walked away, leaving Aarohi sitting in stunned silence. The weight of the unanswered questions pressed down on her, suffocating her. Her heart raced with a mixture of confusion and betrayal.

---

Aarohi was about to get up, her hands trembling, when the waiter arrived and placed a small box in front of her. It was unassuming, wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with a string. For a moment, she thought about ignoring it, but curiosity won out.

She unwrapped the box slowly, her fingers shaking as she opened it. Inside, nestled on soft tissue paper, was a delicate silver locket. It shimmered under the cafe lights, catching her eye. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Along with the locket, there was a small note attached. Aarohi’s hands were trembling as she unfolded it and read the simple words:

"I’m sorry, Aarohi. I know I’ve hurt you. This is for you. Always yours."

Aarohi’s breath caught in her throat. She recognized the handwriting instantly. It was his.

Why was he doing this? After everything that had happened—after the pictures, the confrontation, the silence—why was he giving her this? Was this some sort of apology? Was it an attempt to erase what had happened, or was he trying to manipulate her emotions?

She held the locket in her hand, staring at it as the confusion in her mind deepened.

Vihaan had walked away without offering an explanation. He hadn’t tried to clarify what the pictures meant. Yet here he was, sending her a gift, his words apologizing for his actions. Aarohi’s chest tightened. Was he sorry? Or was this all just part of a bigger lie?

She stood up, the locket still clutched tightly in her hand. She needed time to process it all, to understand what was really happening. But no matter how much she wanted to believe in him, the images—the smiling, happy pictures of Vihaan with another girl—were too real to ignore. Too full of love.