Page 60 of The Defiant Wife

Silence. Complete and utter silence. The kind that swallows entire rooms whole. I barely hear it.Because my own words are still echoing in my head.

I'll marry her.

I definitely didn't plan on saying that.Across the room, Diya stares at me.Her eyes grow wider.Her mouth falls open.For one absurd second she looks like someone dropped her into thewrong story.The shock on her face is almost enough to make me laugh.

Almost.

Vihaan looks seconds away from choking.

Her mother drops her phone.

Bhai sa blinks. Once. Slowly.

The only person who doesn't seem surprised is me.Which is concerning.Very concerning.

I hold Diya's gaze.She still looks horrified.

Fair.

I'm a little horrified too.

Then I turn toward her father.And whatever amusement I felt disappears immediately.

My voice comes out steady. Final. Unyielding.

"Let's be entirely clear, Mr. Goyal."The man swallows hard."It would be my absolute pleasure to be your daughter's husband."His eyes widen in surprise,"And from this moment onward, you will speak about her with respect."

I take a step forward. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just enough. Just enough for him to understand exactly how serious I am.

"Because if we're discussing marriage . . . " My gaze flickers briefly toward Diya before returning to him. " . . . then we're discussing my future wife."

The room goes silent again. This time nobody dares break it.

Not even me.

Because somewhere between standing up and proposing marriage to a woman who spends half her life irritating me . . . I've managed to change the course of both our lives.

And judging by the expression on Diya's face—She realizes it too.

17. A PIECE ON THE BOARD

DIYA

I don't remember the last time I cried.

Not properly.Not like this.Not with tears slipping down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.Not with my chest hurting so badly that breathing feels exhausting.I sit on the edge of my bed staring at nothing.The room is quiet.Too quiet.The kind of quiet that makes thoughts louder.And unfortunately, my thoughts have decided to declare war on me.

My father wants me married.

No.

That's not right. My father wants me gone.The realization settles heavily inside my chest.

Because there is a difference.A huge difference.One comes from love.The other comes from convenience.And I know exactly which one this is.I let out a shaky laugh that sounds suspiciously like another sob.

How stupid.

How incredibly stupid.