Page 78 of Mrs. Rathore

He stilled, his eyes finally locking with mine. His expression faltered for the briefest second.

“I was drowning, Aryan. And when I came back up, you weren’t there. No one was. And now, instead of asking if I’m okay, you stand here accusing me of plotting all this like some psychotic puppet master.”

Silence fell between us. The only sounds were our harsh, uneven breaths and the faint hum of the night outside the window. He stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze.

“So…” he said slowly, his voice cautious now, “you didn’t know about the video?”

My chest tightened. God, he still thought this was about the video.

He didn’t even ask if I’d been hurt. Or scared. Or if I’d slept at all since the incident. No concern, no compassion, just cold suspicion.

How could he be so cruel?

“Aryan…” I said, my voice flat. “I saw the video yesterday. It was everywhere. I didn’t know who took it, and I didn’t care to watch it more than twice. Why would I? I was living it. And I sure as hell didn’t expect it to land in your Dadi’s inbox. I told Rhea to keep it far from her. I never wanted to relive that moment again, let alone use it.”

His fists clenched at his sides. There was a crack in his armor now, and I saw guilt, doubt, maybe even regret. But before itcould settle, he shut it down, rebuilding the wall with his usual indifference.

“This whole thing is a mess,” he muttered, his voice distant. “This marriage. Us. Everything.”

I leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He glanced at me again, and for the first time since the shouting started, his eyes looked less like a storm and more like the aftermath, still dark and tired.

He exhaled. “I’ll find out who did this. Who pushed you into that lake? Who filmed it? Who posted it online? If it wasn’t you, then someone’s playing both of us.”

I nodded slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “And when you do… I expect an apology.”

His jaw tensed. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Then he turned, striding to the door. It slammed shut behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls like the aftershock of an earthquake.

I stood there in the silence, hands trembling, heart still hammering against my ribs. Fear lingered, but underneath it, something colder crept in, not fear of Aryan, not anymore, but fear of something else.

A shadow behind the camera. A stranger in the dark.

Someone out there wasn’t just watching us; they were orchestrating something.

And I had no idea what was coming next.

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Chapter 29

AVNI

Our drive back to Rathore Mansion was steeped in silence, the kind that felt thick and suffocating, as if the air between us had congealed with everything unspoken. The engine's hum was the only sound accompanying us as we left behind four painfully long days at the Taj Lake Palace.

If there were a contest for the worst honeymoon in history, I was certain we'd win hands down.

And yet... I had tried. I let myself enjoy what I could-the food, the spa, the gentle bobbing of the boat against the water. Those little luxuries only highlighted how broken everything felt beneath the surface.

Aryan had spent most of his time digging for answers, trying to find the man who had pushed me into the lake. He interrogated the hotel staff, demanded statements, and even hauled the manager by his collar, yelling for the CCTV footage. But it all came to nothing. There were no cameras in the Sheesh Mahal courtyard. Convenient or suspicious? I couldn't decide.

"I'll try to talk to Grandma," I said quietly, the weight of the silence finally becoming unbearable.

"There's no need," he replied, his voice cold and clipped. "The damage is done. I don't want you to lie to her for my sake. I hate lying... but that's all we've been doing since this marriage began."

His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his jaw tense, hands firm on the wheel. The air between us shifted again, a new bitterness folding into the quiet.

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