Author's POV :
But unbeknownst to her, Akarsh had been watching her every move. In the corner of his sprawling office, hidden behind a painting of their wedding day, was a small, unassuming camera that had captured every moment of her betrayal. His smirk grew wider as he recalled the day he had installed it, knowing that the truth would eventually come to light.
For months, he had pretended not to see the subtle glances, the lingering touches, and the late-night phone calls. He had always known that she was the villain in their story, the snake in the garden of their marriage. But he had played along, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Akarsh had built his empire on the foundation of cold, hard logic and an uncanny ability to read people. And Ashritha, for all her charm and beauty, was as transparent as glass to him. Her every move, every smile, every tear had been a carefully calculated ploy to manipulate him, to keep him in the dark. But the darkness was his element, and he had allowed her to believe she had the upper hand, all the while gathering the ammunition he needed to destroy her.
The camera in their bedroom was not the only one. Throughout the mansion, in the shadows of their lives, there were eyes and ears that reported back to him. He knew of her meetings with Vikram, the late-night conversations, the secret smiles that had once been reserved for him alone. Each piece of evidence had been stored away, a silent testament to her deceit. He had played the role of the oblivious husband, all the while knowing that the woman he had sworn to cherish was plotting his downfall.
The phone call with Vikram was the final nail in the coffin of her deception. As he listened, his anger grew into a fiery inferno, consuming every last shred of the love he had once felt for her. He knew he had to act swiftly, decisively, to cut her off before she could do any more damage. His mind raced with strategies, his fingers tapping a rhythm of retribution on the polished mahogany of his desk.
When Akarsh returned home that evening, Ashritha's performance was Oscar-worthy. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks flushed with feigned distress. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing, begging for his forgiveness. He held her tightly, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the scent of her perfume that had once been so comforting now a noose around his neck.
"Akarsh," she wailed, her voice thick with emotion, "I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear, it was just a mistake." Her tears felt like acid on his skin, each drop a silent confession of her betrayal. Yet, he held her, his own heart a tumult of anger and pain. He knew she was playing him, using their history to manipulate his emotions, but he couldn't bring himself to push her away.
He had played along for so long, watching her every move with the detached interest of a chess master studying his opponent. Each lie she told, each secret meeting she had with Vikram, had been cataloged, analyzed, and stored away. It was a masquerade that had gone on for far too long, and now the time had come to reveal the true nature of the game.
Akarsh had been biding his time, letting her plot unfold while he carefully constructed his countermove. The cameras in their home were his pawns, the evidence he had gathered his knights and rooks, all poised to checkmate her treachery. As she wept in his arms, her voice thick with regret, he felt the burden of his secret grow heavier. But he knew that to win this game, he could not show his hand.
He held her close, whispering soothing words that felt like shards of ice against his tongue. Her sobs grew softer, her body relaxing into his embrace as she allowed herself to believe in the illusion of his forgiveness. But Akarsh's mind was racing, piecing together the puzzle of her deceit with the cold precision of a master strategist. He had to admit, she had played her part well, fooling even him for a time. But the truth had a way of revealing itself, and now it was his turn to make a move.
He gently led her to the couch, stroking her hair as he held her, his heart aching with the weight of his decision. "Ash," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "I know this isn't easy for you. But we can get through this together."
Her eyes searched his, hope flickering like a candle in a gale. "Do you forgive me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.Akarsh's gaze never left hers as he spoke the words she desperately needed to hear. "Yes, I forgive you," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "But we need to fix this. We can't let this come between us."
For a moment, Ashritha felt a flood of relief wash over her. She threw her arms around his neck, her body shaking with sobs of gratitude. His embrace was warm, his touch familiar and comforting, and she allowed herself to believe in the lie she had spun. But as she hugged him, she could feel the tension in his muscles, the tightness in his arms that spoke of his unspoken anger. It was a fleeting comfort, a Band-Aid over a wound that ran much deeper than she had ever imagined.
Akarsh held her, his own heart a battleground of emotions. The urge to crush her in his arms and never let go warred with the need to maintain his façade. He knew that if he revealed his hand now, the game would be over before it had even begun. So he held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a balm to the fear that had taken root in her soul. He could feel her relax, the tremors in her body slowly subsiding as she took solace in his strength.
But as the night deepened, and their shadows grew long on the floor, he knew he had to act. He had to find out the truth, to understand the depth of her betrayal. He had to understand the woman he had thought he knew so well. With a gentle kiss to her forehead, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers. "Ash," he said softly, "I want to know more about you, your family, your parents."
Her eyes searched his, looking for the anger she had expected, but finding only curiosity. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice still shaky.
"I want to know everything," he said, his voice firm. "The good, the bad, the truth. We can't move forward unless I understand where you're coming from."
Ashritha felt a flicker of unease. She had never talked about her past with Akarsh, had always kept it hidden behind a veil of smiles and charm. But now, with the walls of their marriage threatening to crumble around them, she knew she had to give him something, a piece of the truth to keep him close. So she began to weave a new tale, one that painted her as the victim, her parents as the innocents caught in the crossfire of a corporate war.
Akarsh listened, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew she was holding something back, but he let her speak, let her lay out her story like a banquet of lies. He nodded, made the right noises, all the while knowing that the real answers were not in her words but in the shadows she didn't dare to speak of. He knew that the key to her heart, to her true intentions, lay in the past she had kept hidden from him.
He held her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm in a gesture of comfort that felt eerily genuine. "Thank you for sharing that with me," he said, his voice warm. "But I need to know more. Tell me about your childhood, your parents. What were they like?"
Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a shaky breath. "They were wonderful," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "They were kind, loving people. They didn't deserve what happened to them."
"What happened to them?" Akarsh prompted, his voice gentle.
Ashritha's eyes searched the room, looking for an escape from the web of deceit she had spun.
"They were killed," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. "In a... in a robbery gone wrong."
The lie slipped from her lips with surprising ease, and for a moment, she almost believed it herself. But Akarsh was not so easily fooled. He had built his empire on a foundation of truth, and he could sense the cracks in her story. He knew there was more, much more, and he was determined to uncover it.
He held her closer, his heart aching for the woman he had thought he knew. "I'm so sorry, Ash," he murmured, his voice laced with a concern that was all too real. "We'll get through this together. I promise."
But as he said the words, he knew that together was a promise he might not be able to keep. For in the world of power and deceit, there was no room for secrets, and the ones she had shared had only made him more determined to uncover the rest. The game had changed, the stakes had been raised, and Akarsh was ready to play.
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