The moment the bedroom door closed behind them, the silence changed.

Outside, the Rajvansh mansion still carried the distant sounds of laughter from family members who had not yet gone to sleep.

But inside—

there was only them.

Aarohi stood near the door, fingers clutching the edge of her dupatta, suddenly aware of everything.

The quiet. The closeness. The man standing in front of her.

And the way his voice had sounded when he had said—

little wife.

Abhimaan noticed the way she stayed near the entrance.

Like she was unsure whether to step further into the room or turn around and run.

For a second, he almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he loosened the buttons at his cuffs and spoke in the same calm tone he always used.

“You can breathe.”

Aarohi blinked.

“What?”

Abhimaan looked at her.

“You stop breathing every time I look at you.”

Aarohi stared at him in disbelief.

Then her cheeks warmed.

“I do not.”

One dark eyebrow lifted.

“You do.”

Aarohi looked away immediately.

And that alone told him he was right.

---

For the first time that evening, the cold heaviness between them eased.

Just a little.

Abhimaan moved toward the side table and poured a glass of water before holding it out to her.

“Drink.”

Aarohi accepted it quietly.

“Do you always sound like you’re giving instructions?”

Abhimaan’s expression remained unchanged.

“Yes.”

That answer made her laugh softly.

And again— that sound did something strange to him.

Because his room had always been silent.

And suddenly he was noticing how much better it sounded with her in it.

---

Aarohi slowly sat at the edge of the bed, carefully adjusting the heavy folds of her bridal lehenga.

Now that the noise of the rituals had faded, exhaustion was finally beginning to settle into her bones.

Abhimaan noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

Without saying anything, he walked toward her.

Aarohi looked up.

Her breath caught as he stopped in front of her.

Too close.

Close enough for her to notice the faint scent of his cologne. Close enough to see the tiredness hidden behind his eyes. Close enough to feel nervous for no reason at all.

Abhimaan’s gaze dropped to the heavy necklace resting against her throat.

Then he looked at her.

“You should take that off.”

Aarohi stared at him.

Her fingers instinctively moved toward the necklace clasp behind her neck.

But the intricate chain had tangled in her hair.

She tried once. Then twice.

And failed both times.

Abhimaan watched her struggle for another second before quietly saying—

“Turn around.”

Aarohi looked at him.

For a moment she forgot how to speak.

Then slowly— she turned.

Her pulse was suddenly too loud.

---

Abhimaan stepped behind her.

The room felt smaller instantly.

Aarohi held her breath as his fingers carefully moved her hair to one side.

His touch was light. Careful. Unexpectedly gentle.

For a man the world described as ruthless—

he touched her like she might break.

The cool tips of his fingers brushed the back of her neck while he untangled the chain from her hair.

Aarohi’s eyes fluttered shut for one second.

Because that simple touch felt far too intimate.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved more than necessary.

And yet the silence between them had never felt louder.

Finally, the clasp came loose.

Abhimaan lifted the necklace away slowly.

His fingers brushed her skin once more.

Aarohi inhaled sharply.

And this time—

Abhimaan noticed.

His jaw tightened.

Because hearing that small breath from her affected him far more than it should have.

He placed the necklace carefully on the table.

Then stepped back.

Putting distance between them before he forgot himself.

---

Aarohi turned to face him.

“Thank you.”

Abhimaan simply nodded.

But his gaze lingered.

Longer than it should have.

Long enough for Aarohi to notice.

And suddenly the air in the room felt warmer.

---

Trying to calm her heartbeat, Aarohi looked around the room.

“It’s very quiet here.”

Abhimaan leaned against the table.

“It usually is.”

“Do you like that?”

He looked at her for a long moment before answering.

“I was used to it.”

The difference in his words made her pause.

Was.

Not am.

Aarohi lowered her eyes.

Because for the first time—

she wondered if his loneliness had been louder than his silence all along.

---

She looked down at her bangles.

“Can I ask you something?”

Abhimaan’s gaze remained on her.

“You already are.”

Aarohi looked up.

“Why do you always seem like you’re carrying something alone?”

The question caught him off guard.

No one had ever asked him that.

People saw his power. His money. His control.

No one ever saw the weight.

But somehow—

she did.

Abhimaan looked away first.

And for the first time that night, his voice was quieter than usual.

“Because I have always had to.”

Aarohi said nothing.

She simply looked at him.

And somehow that felt worse.

Because pity he could handle.

Questions he could avoid.

But gentle understanding—

that was dangerous.

---

Before the silence could deepen, Aarohi suddenly winced as she tried to stand.

Abhimaan noticed immediately.

“What happened?”

Aarohi shook her head. “Nothing.”

His expression sharpened.

“Aarohi.”

No nickname.

Just her name.

Firm. Serious.

And Aarohi immediately knew he was not asking.

She hesitated before lifting her lehenga slightly to reveal the back of her heel.

A small red mark. Raw from the shoes.

Abhimaan’s jaw tightened.

“You wore those for hours?”

Aarohi looked confused. “They matched the outfit.”

Abhimaan stared at her.

Then without another word, he crouched in front of her.

Aarohi’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up once.

“Sit still.”

Her heartbeat nearly stopped.

Because Abhimaan Singh Rajvansh— the man who intimidated boardrooms— was kneeling in front of her.

For her.

He gently removed one heel. Then the other.

His touch was careful. Almost reverent.

Aarohi could only stare.

When he looked at the angry red skin on her foot, something dark moved in his eyes.

And quietly— almost to himself— he said,

“You should have told me.”

Aarohi’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

“You noticed?”

Abhimaan looked up at her.

“I notice everything about you, little wife.”

The words hit her harder than they should have.

And suddenly neither of them looked away.

---

The room fell completely still.

Aarohi forgot the world around her.

Because in that moment—

for the first time—

she did not see a stranger.

She saw a man who cared before he knew how to say it.

And for the first time—

Abhimaan realized he had already started caring far more than he should.

---

A few seconds later he stood.

The moment broke.

But the feeling remained.

Abhimaan moved toward the sofa near the window.

“You should sleep.”

Aarohi blinked.

“You’re sleeping there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He looked at her for a long second.

Then said quietly—

“Because if I stay too close tonight...”

He stopped himself.

Aarohi’s breath caught.

Abhimaan held her gaze.

Then finished in a lower voice—

“you will not sleep.”

And just like that—

Aarohi forgot how to breathe all over again.

---

That night, long after the lights were turned off, neither of them slept easily.

Because the room no longer felt like it held two strangers.

It felt like it held something far more dangerous.

The beginning.

----------

And slowly... without either of them realizing it, the distance between them is already beginning to disappear. ♡

Abhimaan noticing her pain before she says a word... 🖤

And that line— “I notice everything about you, little wife.”

Tell me your favorite moment below. I love reading your thoughts.

— Author