Page 33 of Mrs. Rathore

As soon as we entered, my mother-in-law’s sharp voice cut through the chatter. “Where have you been?”

Her tone was clipped, her eyes narrow. “You should be sitting beside your husband, but…”

She trailed off, noticing the nearby guests. She quickly composed herself and stepped aside, her lips pressed into a thin line.

And there he was.

Aryan. Standing near the priest, deep in conversation and Ira was beside him, smiling as if she belonged there.

My jaw clenched as I rolled closer. Without hesitation, I reached up and intertwined my fingers with his.

His body went rigid.

“She’s my wife,” Aryan told the priest, his voice cold as he took the wheelchair from Noor.

I quickly adjusted my saree, draping the edge over my head respectfully. The priest raised his hand and rested it gently on me, chanting blessings I barely understood.

As the priest stepped away, Aryan grabbed my wrist with a rough grip and tied a red thread around it, a symbolic gesture in front of the guests, performed without even glancing at me.

“Where were you during the aarti?” he asked, his eyes now meeting mine. They were sharp and accusing.

“I was just giving your poor ex-girlfriend a little more time with you,” I said coolly.

His jaw twitched. “Wow. How generous of you. Must’ve been exhausting to spare those precious five minutes.”

He yanked the knot tighter. “Punish me all you want, Avni. But don’t humiliate my family in front of their guests. Next time, be there with me.”

“I just went to take some medicine. My legs were hurting,” I muttered, looking away.

“Is it really killing you to sit with me five minutes longer?” he snapped.

“I stepped away for five minutes and suddenly I’m treated like a criminal.”

“That’s because marrying me was your biggest crime.”

I flinched. “Can you just get away from me? You’re making me nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered coldly, standing. “I’m done wasting oxygen near you.”

My mouth fell open, stung by the venom in his tone. Before I could respond, he walked away straight to the verandah without looking back.

“He’s kind of arrogant, isn’t he?” Noor said gently beside me.

I couldn’t even look at her. Embarrassment wrapped around me like a second skin.

This marriage… this entire act… was my decision. But I was the one failing miserably at my own game.

I looked around the hall, people laughing, smiling, immersed in light conversation. Rhea was speaking with her grandmother, Mr. Rathore chatting with my father. At least Papa looked happy, even charmed.

My heart ached with quiet relief.

“Where’s Ira?” I asked, scanning the room.

Noor didn’t answer as she was too busy whispering something to Kavya.

Everyone had someone.

Except me.

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