"I am here to take my wife home."
My wife. The possessive way he said it made something twist in my chest.
I heard footsteps, then Ramesh's familiar voice asking where my luggage was. Puneet must have pointed it out, because I heard the sound of my suitcase being wheeled toward the door.
Then Armaan appeared in the doorway of the guest room.
He did not ask permission. Did not wait for me to come to him. He just walked in, bent down, and lifted me into his arms as though I weighed nothing.
"What are you doing? Put me down!"
He ignored me completely, carrying me out of the room, through the apartment, past Puneet who stood helplessly in the doorway.
"If you hurt her," Puneet called out, his voice shaking with anger, "if you make her cry, I will—"
"You will do nothing," Armaan said without looking back. "She is my wife. She belongs with me."
He carried me to his car and placed me carefully in the passenger seat, buckling the seatbelt around me as though I were incapable of doing it myself.
We drove in complete silence. I stared out the window, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge his presence.
When we pulled up to the Khanna house, I saw that everyone was there. Dadi standing at the door with tears in her eyes. Papa beside her with a gentle smile. Even Aryan was there, looking uncertain but supportive.
The front entrance was decorated with flowers and lights, as though this was a celebration instead of a prison sentence.
Armaan got out and came around to my side. Once again, he lifted me into his arms, ignoring my protests.
"I can walk," I said through gritted teeth.
"I know you can. But I am carrying you anyway. My wife. My home. My rules."
He carried me through the decorated entrance while Dadi performed a brief welcoming aarti. Then he carried me up thestairs, down the hallway, to the bedroom that I had shared with him for those two blissful, ignorant months.
The room had been transformed. Fresh flowers everywhere. New bedding. Soft lighting. It looked like something out of a romantic movie.
But there was nothing romantic about this. This was a cage dressed up to look like a paradise.
Armaan set me down gently on the bed, then stepped back.
"Welcome home, Love."
I did not respond. Just stood up, walked past him to the bathroom, and locked myself inside.
I heard him sigh on the other side of the door. Heard his footsteps as he walked away.
Then silence.
I slid down to sit on the cold bathroom floor and finally let myself cry.
Six months. I had to endure six months of this.
Six months of living with a man I loved but could not trust.
Six months of pretending everything was fine when my entire world had fallen apart.
I did not know if I was strong enough.
But I had no choice.
