5.

AUTHOR’S POV

The car moved through the quiet night, carrying two people who felt like strangers to each other. Silence filled the space between Ishani and Atharva—thick, heavy, and unspoken. The steady hum of the engine was the only proof that time was still moving.

Atharva drove with rigid calm. His jaw was clenched, his grip firm on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

There was something distant about him—guarded, restrained—as if he were holding back more than just words.

Beside him, Ishani sat quietly, her body turned slightly toward the window. She watched the city lights blur into darkness, finding a strange comfort in the night outside. It felt safer than looking at him—safer than facing the emotions she didn’t yet understand.

Then his voice broke the silence.

“Close the window,” Atharva said, his tone controlled.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

The sudden sound of his voice made her pause.

Ishani turned to look at him—and realized he was already watching her.

Their eyes met.

For a brief second, the world inside the car shifted. Something warm and unsettling stirred between them, a quiet pull neither of them dared to name. Words hovered on the edge of their lips, but neither spoke.

Atharva looked away first, his gaze returning to the road, as if staying any longer might reveal too much.

Slowly, Ishani rolled the window up.

The silence returned—heavier than before.

After a while, his voice came again, softer now, almost thoughtful.

“If you ever want to go somewhere,” he said calmly,

“you can tell me.”

Ishani turned toward him, her eyes filled with quiet questions. She hadn’t expected that—not from him.

He glanced at her briefly before speaking again.

“Words, Mrs. Yaduvanshi,” he said evenly.

“Eyes can’t speak.”

Their gazes met once more.

Ishani looked away, her fingers curling slightly in her lap. Her heart raced, as if it were trying to escape her chest. After a long pause, she finally spoke—her voice low, but steady.

“If you know how to read them,” she said softly,

“eyes speak too.”

The words lingered in the air.

Atharva’s lips curved into a faint, almost reluctant smile—so brief it could have been imagined. He said nothing, his eyes fixed ahead, but something inside him shifted.

Perhaps he didn’t know what to say.

Or perhaps he knew exactly what he felt—and wasn’t ready to face it yet.

The car continued its journey , carrying not just two people, but two hearts—slowly, quietly moving toward something neither of them could stop anymore.

ISHANI POV

We reach home nearly an hour ago.

I am in the bathroom, changing into a simple kurti and palazzo, trying to calm the chaos inside my mind. When I step out and pause at the doorframe, my breath catches.

He is lying on the bed.

The realization settles slowly—I have to sleep next to him.

My chest tightens.

What if he says something again?

What if he reminds me, once more, that he has no interest in this marriage?

After everything he said earlier, the thought of sharing the bed with him makes me uneasy, almost afraid.

I am not ready for that closeness.

Gathering whatever courage I have, I step into the room.

I open the drawer, take out a hair band, and tie my hair, pretending to focus on the small, ordinary act.

He is busy on his phone, his attention elsewhere. For a moment, I hope he won’t look up.

But suddenly, our eyes meet.

A tight knot forms in my stomach.

His gaze is intense, unreadable, lingering on me far longer than I expect.

It feels as if the room grows quieter, smaller.

My breath stutters, and instinctively, I look away, fixing my eyes on the mirror.

I turn to pick up my pillow from the bed, hoping to escape the weight of his stare.

That’s when his voice reaches me.

“Where are you going?”

I freeze.

For a moment, I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the pillow.

Slowly, I glance at him. He is watching me closely—waiting.

Summoning my courage, I finally speak.

“I… I need some fresh air,” I say softly.

“I’m going to the balcony.”

Before he can respond—before my resolve falters—I move quickly toward the balcony, leaving the room behind.

Leaving him.

Leaving the bed.

Leaving the emotions I am not yet ready to face.

AUTHOR'S POV

As Ishani left the room, Atharva felt something twist painfully inside his chest. It was not anger. Not irritation. It was something far more dangerous—something he refused to name.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his mind back to work, as if discipline could silence his heart.

An hour slipped by.

His phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He stepped outside to take the call, his voice calm, controlled.

But then—his eyes moved toward the balcony.

And everything inside him broke.

Ishani lay curled up on the couch, asleep. No blanket. Her arms drawn close to her body as she shivered in the cold night air. The sight hit him harder than any accusation ever could. His chest tightened, breath uneven. Without a word, he cut the call.

Why is she there?

He didn’t wait for answer

He lifted her into his arms.

She was light—too light. As if life itself had been weighing her down for far too long. Her head rested against his chest, trusting him even in sleep, and the irony burned.

She trusted him… when he had given her nothing to trust.

He laid her on the bed, careful, gentle—contradicting every harsh word he had ever spoken to her.

He covered her with the blanket, tucking it around her like a silent apology he would never voice.

His eyes stayed on her.

She slept peacefully, unaware of the storm she had created. Her face was soft, innocent. Her lips formed a slight pout, as if even in sleep she carried unfulfilled words.

She looked free—while he stood there, trapped by the consequences of his own cruelty.

Atharva’s expression hardened, then softened again—conflicted.

He didn’t deserve to look at her like this.

Yet he couldn’t look away.

Something ached inside him, slow and deep—a regret he would never admit, a longing he would never claim.

Loving her would mean accepting her. And that… he was

n’t ready to face.

Before his heart could betray him further, he turned away.

He walked out of the room,