Chapter 43: chapter 43

Arranged loveWords: 5013

Aarohi barely made it home before breaking down completely. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched the delicate silver locket in her hand. Her heart felt heavy, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t silence. She couldn’t believe she had let herself trust him, let herself hope for something real, only to be crushed by what seemed like betrayal.

Her parents were sitting in the living room when she entered, her face pale and tear-streaked. They both stood up immediately, their expressions shifting to concern.

“Aarohi, what’s wrong?” her mother asked, rushing toward her. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Aarohi shook her head quickly, unwilling to meet their gaze. “I’m fine, Maa. I just need some time alone.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her father frowned deeply.

“You don’t look fine,” her father said, stepping closer. “Talk to us, Aarohi. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Aarohi snapped, her voice louder than she intended. Her parents looked startled, but she didn’t wait for their response. She hurried to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

The moment she was alone, Aarohi sank to the floor, clutching the locket tightly. Her tears came harder now, sobs wracking her body as she replayed everything over and over in her head. The pictures. Vihaan’s silence. The note.

Why did he make me believe in this relationship if he didn’t care? she thought bitterly. Why did he promise to try when he was hiding so much?

The images of him smiling, blushing, and kissing someone else’s hand haunted her. It wasn’t just the pictures—it was the emotions they captured. He looked so happy, so in love. And here she was, left to pick up the pieces of her shattered trust.

Her mind refused to quiet. Every time she tried to reason it out, another wave of doubt and anger consumed her. She had wanted to believe in him, but now it felt like everything had been a cruel joke.

---

Meanwhile, Vihaan sat across from Karan in their usual spot. The dim lighting of the lounge barely illuminated his face, but the weight on his shoulders was unmistakable. He looked like a man grappling with emotions he couldn’t control.

“I think she’s back,” Vihaan muttered, his voice low and filled with unease.

Karan frowned, leaning forward. “What are you talking about? Who’s back?”

Vihaan ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “Tara. The pictures Aarohi showed me… they were of Tara and me. Those pictures are real.”

Karan’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for Vihaan to continue.

“It was years ago,” Vihaan said, his tone distant. “Back when I thought I was in love with her. Tara was... everything I thought I wanted. But she left, Karan. She left without a word and never looked back. I moved on—or at least I thought I did.”

“And now?” Karan asked cautiously.

“Now she’s trying to ruin everything,” Vihaan said, his jaw tightening. “She’s the one sending those pictures to Aarohi. I know it.”

“Why didn’t you tell Aarohi that?” Karan asked, his tone sharper now. “Why didn’t you explain anything?”

Vihaan looked away, guilt flashing across his face. “Because I froze. I didn’t know how to tell her. Those pictures… they’re real, Karan. And I don’t blame Aarohi for doubting me after seeing them.”

“But they’re old, right? You’re not involved with Tara anymore.”

“Of course not!” Vihaan snapped, his frustration bubbling over. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years. But how do I explain that to Aarohi when Tara’s playing these games? She’s making it look like I’m still... still in love with her.”

Karan sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You need to fix this, Vihaan. If you care about Aarohi—if you want this relationship to work—you can’t let Tara win. You have to be honest with Aarohi, no matter how hard it is.”

Vihaan nodded slowly, determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right. I have to fix this. I just hope it’s not too late.”

---

Back in her room, Aarohi lay on her bed, staring at the locket that now felt like a cruel reminder of her heartbreak. The note Vihaan had written echoed in her mind: “I’m sorry, Aarohi. I know I’ve hurt you. This is for you. Always yours.”

“Always yours?” she whispered bitterly. “What a lie.”

Her mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to believe there was some explanation she hadn’t considered. But the pictures—the raw, undeniable emotions they captured—kept pulling her back into despair.

A knock on her door startled her, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t face anyone right now. Not her parents, not her friends, and certainly not Vihaan.

As the night stretched on, one thought consumed her: If he truly cared, why didn’t he fight for me? Why didn’t he explain?

Little did she know, Vihaan was preparing to do exactly that.