"What happened?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully controlled.
She glanced down at her wrist as though seeing it for the first time.
"One of the bangles broke when I was removing them. A piece of glass must have cut me. I did not notice until later."
I looked more closely. There was still a tiny shard of glass embedded in her skin, catching the lamplight and glinting like a malicious little star.
That cold, sharp feeling in my gut intensified, spreading through my chest like ice water.
I stood up abruptly and walked toward the bathroom without saying a word. I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out the first aid kit.
Chapter 7
Viya
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Armaan disappear into the bathroom. The door closed softly behind him, and I was left alone in the vast bedroom that was now supposed to be mine as well as his.
Our bedroom.
The thought felt strange. Foreign. Like trying on clothes that did not quite fit.
I was about to lie down, exhaustion finally catching up with me, when I heard the bathroom door open again. I looked up, expecting to see him heading for the shower, but instead he emerged carrying a small white box with a red cross on it.
A first aid kit.
He walked back to the bed and sat down in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something else. Something clean and masculine that made my breath catch slightly.
He did not say anything. He just reached for my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"I need to remove the glass first," he said quietly, his eyes focused entirely on my wrist. "It will hurt."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He picked up a pair of tweezers from the kit and brought them close to the cut. I felt the sharp sting immediately as the metal tip touched the embedded shard. I could not help it. I flinched, pulling back slightly.
His eyes flicked up to mine. There was something in his gaze that I could not quite read. Concern, maybe. Or frustration that I had moved.
Then he did something completely unexpected.
He leaned forward and blew a soft stream of air across my wrist, right over the injury. The cooling sensation immediately eased the sting, and I found myself staring at him in surprise.
He did not meet my eyes. He just focused back on the task, carefully extracting the tiny piece of glass with steady hands. Once it was out, he set it aside on a tissue and reached for the antiseptic.
The liquid burned when it touched the open wound, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning the cut thoroughly before applying a generous amount of antibiotic ointment. Then he wrapped my wrist with fresh gauze and secured it with medical tape.
His hands were large and capable, but the way he touched me was incredibly gentle. Like I was something fragile that might break if he was not careful.
This was the first time in my life that someone had cared for me like this. Uncle had always been kind, but he had never been the type to tend to injuries or illnesses. That had never been his role. And Aunty certainly had never bothered with such things.
But here was this man, this stranger I had married less than twenty four hours ago, treating a minor cut on my wrist as though it actually mattered.
I did not know what to feel about that.
When Dadi had left me alone in this room earlier tonight, I had been terrified. My heart had been pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. I had no idea what to expect from this night. No idea what he would expect from me.
The fear had been suffocating. That was why I had rushed to change out of the heavy wedding clothes the moment I was alone. I had pulled off the elaborate jewelry, piece by piece, my hands shaking the entire time. That was when the bangle had broken, cutting into my skin. But even after I had changed into my comfortable pajamas, I still could not breathe properly.
So I had gone to the balcony. The open air had helped. The vast sky and the cool breeze had made the tightness in my chest ease just enough that I could finally take a full breath.
