Chapter 20

That evening, as I sat in our room staring out of the window, my thoughts kept drifting back to Siya and the conversation Veer and I had about her.

I wasn't angry or jealous—I wasn't a teenager, and neither was Veer. We were two adults, well aware of the weight and meaning of responsibility, especially in a marriage like ours. What would be the point of fighting over something that was long in the past , but the thought of her leaving him devasted and so closed off pierced my heart , he was alone in his life and then she came even if love wasn't there between them still she was the only person in his life back then

taking out my phone I searched her and the photos of her wedding with Rohan surfaced and the timeline of all of it suggested me that she was cheating behind Veer's back because she was married within a month of breaking up with him , kutti kahin ki mere veer ko dhoka deti hai , but I am glad she is out of his life now for good

But I couldn't deny the sadness that lingered, not for myself, but for Veer.

I had learned enough about Veeranshu in the short time we'd been together to understand how he approached life. Whether in business or his personal life, he was methodical, disciplined. He didn't leave anything unfinished—he wouldn't start something new without first closing what was old. So having a doubt that he still felt something for Siya was absurd because Ihave seen it in his eyes the way he looks at me , like I am some kind of dream , the one from which he is afraid to wake up and eyes they never lie

That was why it meant so much that he had trusted me enough to share the painful memories of Siya and her cruel words. It wasn't easy for him—I could see that in the way he hesitated, the way his voice carried a weight that hadn't been there before.

And yet, he told me. He let me into that part of his life, even knowing it might hurt him to relive it.

I trusted him completely, but that didn't stop the anger that bubbled up whenever I thought about Siya. What kind of person could say such things to someone as caring and thoughtful as Veer?

Cold. Incapable of love. A hollow shell.

Those words had stayed with him, shaping the way he saw himself, and that made me furious. Veer wasn't any of those things. He cared deeply, even if he showed it in quiet, understated ways.

I clenched my fists, my chest tightening with frustration. If I could go back in time, I would have a few choice words for Siya.

Later that day, we sat together in the living room. Veer was working on his laptop, his focus as sharp as ever, while I chattered away about my day at school.

"You won't believe what happened during the rehearsal for the annual play," I said, leaning forward on the couch. "One of the boys forgot his lines completely and tried to make something up on the spot. The result was a monologue about pizza toppings."

Veer looked up, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Pizza toppings?"

"Yep," I said, laughing. "Shakespeare would be proud."

He chuckled softly, closing his laptop and giving me his full attention. I didn't know how he managed to listen so intently—it wasn't as if my stories were particularly interesting—but he always made me feel like they mattered.

"Speaking of food," I said, my tone turning nostalgic, "do you know what my favorite lunch was when I was in school?"

He raised an eyebrow, curious. "What?"

"Grilled cheese sandwiches," I said, smiling at the memory. "But not just any grilled cheese. Dadaji used to make them for my tiffin. He'd add a little twist—some herbs and a secret sauce. I don't even know what was in it, but it was amazing."

Veer nodded thoughtfully. "You still like them?"

"Of course," I said. "Whenever I eat one, it reminds me of Dadaji and how he'd always put so much effort into making sure my lunchbox was special."

I paused, tilting my head. "What about you? Did you have a favorite lunch?"

His expression shifted slightly, the light in his eyes dimming just a little. "Not really," he said after a moment.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There wasn't anyone to make something special for me," he said simply. "The staff was there, of course, but for them, it was just part of their job. They cooked what was needed and moved on. It wasn't... personal."

His words struck a chord in me, and I felt a deep ache in my chest. I had always taken for granted the love and care Dadaji poured into every meal, every small act of kindness. The idea that Veer had grown up without that kind of warmth made my heart hurt.

I looked at him closely, noticing the way his expression seemed distant, as if he were remembering something from long ago. It wasn't just the food—his words hinted at a loneliness I couldn't fully comprehend.

Veer had lost his parents at such a young age, and though he had grown into a strong, capable man, I could see now that the wounds of his childhood had never fully healed.

Reaching out, I placed my hand over his, drawing his attention back to me. "You have me now," I said softly. "And I'll make sure you never feel that way again."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke, but the silence was filled with understanding.

I knew I couldn't erase the pain of his past, but I could show him that he wasn't alone anymore.

That evening, as we shared a simple dinner, I made a quiet promise to myself. I would make sure Veer knew what it felt like to be cared for—not just through words, but through the little things that made life meaningful.

And as I watched him across the table, I realized something else: our marriage might have started as an arrangement, but it was quickly becoming something far more real.

Something worth fighting for. Something worth holding on to.