Page 124 of Mrs. Rathore

The house was dark. Quiet. I lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The silence had grown louder somehow, the ticking of the wall clock echoing like a drumbeat inside my head.

I turned to my side. Aryan still wasn't back.

He hadn't told me where he was going. Or who he was going with.

My hand reached for my phone instinctively. I stared at the screen, biting my lip, fighting the urge to dial his number. I shouldn't care. But I did.

What if something happened to him? That thought pushed me over the edge as I dialed his number.

He picked up after just two rings. "Avni? Are you okay?" His voice was immediately alert, concerned.

Of course. He thought I was in trouble. That was the only reason I would call, right?

"Yeah," I said, my voice small. "I... I just wanted to know when you'll be home."

There was a brief silence.

Then I heard it.

A voice in the background, soft and familiar. "Who is this?" It was Ira.

I froze. My blood went cold. My fingers tightened around the phone.

So that's where he was.

"With her."

"I'll be back in an hour," Aryan said quickly, trying to talk over the sounds in the background. "You sleep well. I've got the extra keys."

My voice was barely a whisper. "Are you with Ira?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his voice. He didn't mind giving me an explanation.

"Okay." I ended the call before he could say anything else and dropped the phone to the bed. My head pressed against the pillow as I tried to breathe through the tightness clutching at my throat.

It was my birthday. And my husband was with his ex-girlfriend.

I had told myself not to care. I had promised myself I was done feeling anything for him. But here I was, shattered by something I had known all along: he was never mine to begin with.

Why did it still hurt this much?

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. "Five more months," I whispered. "And then it'll all be over."

Exactly an hour later, I heard the door open.

I was still awake, half-drifting in a daze of exhaustion and heartbreak. My eyes were closed, but I could hear him. The soft rustle of fabric, his footsteps.

The sound of a pillow and comforter being taken from the closet. Then silence.

I waited for the mattress to shift. For the warmth of his body beside me, but it never came.

Instead, I felt his presence fade again as he moved to the next room. And with that, he gave me the clearest message yet: he didn't want to be near me. Not even on my birthday night.

I rolled over and pulled the covers up to my chin, a single tear sliding down my cheek and soaking into the pillow.

This wasn't a marriage, but survival.

And I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending I was okay.

---