Page 6 of Protect my Heart
“No. It was an arranged marriage,” I reply flatly.
Aarav lets out a breath.
“Good.”
“Do you have any issues marrying me?” he asks next, as casually as if he’s asking me to pass the salt.
A scoff escapes me. “Of course I do! Don’t do this out of guilt. And don’t listen to my mother. I don’t want to marry you. Or anyone else.”
I step back. The words slip out too fast. Why? Why now? “This isn’t a solution, Anika.” My name on his lips feels wrong. It’s been so long. He used to call me Anu. Hearing Anika from him still feels strange.
“What even makes you think I should marry you?” I snap, anger rising again.
He turns to face me fully now. Calm. Seriously?
“Because your mother’s health isn’t good. She needs to see you settled,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.
I clench my fists. “You think you can just show up after twelve years and fix everything with a marriage proposal? What are you even trying to do?”
“I’m not trying to fix anything,” he says calmly, but there’s an edge in his voice. “There’s nothing left to fix.”
His words hit me in the gut like a punch. He’s right. But that still hurts. “Then what are you trying to do?” I yell, my voice cracking. My body shakes with vulnerable anger.
“Protect you.” I freeze. Protect me? I fold my arms across my chest.
“How exactly are you protecting me?” I laugh. But it’s a painful one. “I don’t need your protection now.” I clench my jaw. Who gives him the right to barge into my life after all these years and say, Oh, I am protecting you?
“Vikram,” he replies, rubbing his fingers across his forehead like I’m giving him a headache.
You know what, dude? Same.
“You know he’ll come back for you.” He sighs. “He’s not a good man. You should stay away from him,” he says.
I know every word is true. But marrying Aarav means chaos. In my life. In my heart.
“Just six months, Anika,” he says, his voice softer this time.
Confusion clouds my gaze. He continues before I can respond. “I’ll leave after that.”
And just like that, he punches the air out of my lungs. Again.
Six months? Six. Months. I stare at him, completely thrown off.
“You… you can’t be serious.” A marriage proposal and a divorce proposal—together? Wow. How lucky I must be.
Tears blur my vision. His figure blurs before my eyes. I quickly blink them away, and my vision clears.
He raises an eyebrow, unbothered. How cruel he’s become. “Why? Is six months too much of a commitment for you?”
My jaw tightens. Commitment? He’s really going to talk about commitment? This man—this man who promised to always be there, who used to say I was his forever, who disappeared without a word? He doesn’t get to say that word.
My blood boils at his audacity. He dares talk about commitment when he was the one who abandoned me.
I kept sending him letters. I kept writing to him for years. But I never got a response. It was as if I was never part of his life, as if he had forgotten about me. As if it was easy for him.
“You’ve got some nerve,” I whisper.
I laugh. It’s hollow. Bitter.Nothing’s funny, but I can’t help it. An ache blooms in my chest. The weight of the lehenga wears me down. I nearly stumble.
