THE IInd DECISION

21. Vacation?

Ashi Pov:-

"Do give me the pleasure of dancing with my wife," Ayan said, his voice low and commanding, meant for our ears only. It sounded less like a request and more like a declaration-a claim that I belonged to him, whether I accepted it or not.

Piyush, oblivious to the underlying tension, smiled and said, "Sure," before placing my hand in Ayan's.

As my hand slid into his, I felt the warmth of his touch, and it sent a shiver through me. With a slight smile, Ayan asked, "May I?"

I nodded, feeling a sudden shyness as all eyes seemed to turn towards us, though none knew the truth of our relationship. He placed his hand on my waist, and I rested mine on his shoulder as we began to move to the music.

"Mr. Ayan, it seems you've forgotten the terms of our contract," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as we started to dance.

"No, I haven't forgotten," he replied, spinning me around gracefully. "But I believe I'm entitled to at least one dance with my wife."

The way he said "my wife" sent a jolt down my spine. It was as if, for that moment, the world faded away, and it was just the two of us on the dance floor, everything else a blur.

As the song ended, I excused myself to check on something, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. Later, as I made my way to my car to leave, Ayan appeared beside me.

"Let's go home together. It's late and not safe," he suggested, gesturing towards his car.

"You seem to forget I work late hours regularly," I replied, arching an eyebrow.

He sighed, nodding, and after a brief pause, he said, "Let me take you somewhere. May I?"

I couldn't resist a mischievous smile. "Don't you think you're caring for me more than necessary?"

He didn't respond, and we quietly made our way to his car, making sure no one from the media spotted us. I settled into the backseat, but I couldn't help but notice his eyes on me through the rearview mirror. After a moment, I asked him to stop the car and moved to the front seat beside him.

I turned towards his face and softly said, "You bought that dress the other day."

I felt a twinge of nervousness. "Yes, but I refused it at first. Why did you go ahead and purchase it anyway? It was expensive."

Without looking at me, he replied, "First, it wasn't expensive. Second, yes, you refused, but your eyes said otherwise. And third, in the contract, I mentioned that after you signed the documents, I would take care of all expenses, regardless of the price, even if you start earning. You looked at that dress with so much love, I had to buy it."

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly looked away, not wanting to acknowledge the warmth spreading through me.

"We've arrived," he said, pulling into a rooftop café. "Let's have coffee; it's worth it."

I nodded and followed him inside. But just as we were about to sit down, I saw Ayan's face fall, his movements freezing. An older couple was seated nearby, and the moment they saw us, the woman's eyes welled up with tears. She stood up abruptly, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Shame on you! It's been only a year since my daughter passed away, and you've already remarried?" she shouted, her voice cracking with grief. "You'll never be happy. You took our daughter away from us, and now you've moved on so easily?"

Ayan said nothing, his eyes cast downward, absorbing the woman's pain without protest. She stormed off to the washroom, leaving a heavy silence behind.

"Let's go home," Ayan said quietly, not meeting my eyes. "I have some work to do."

I nodded, watching him walk outside, his shoulders slumped under the weight of unspoken guilt. Quickly, I followed the woman to the washroom, finding her wiping her tears.

"Aunty, please listen to me," I said gently. "I'm not here to mock you. I just want to clear up a misunderstanding that I know Ayan won't address. Yes, we are married, but it was Navya's last wish. She wanted him to remarry by the end of last month. Our marriage is purely contractual; we're just roommates inside the house."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she remained silent. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and walked out without saying another word.

I returned to the car, the tension from earlier hanging heavily in the air. The entire drive home, neither of us spoke. Ayan went straight to his study, and I waited for hours, but he didn't come to our room. It wasn't until 3 a.m. that he finally emerged, dressed in his gym clothes, and left without a word.

Sleep eluded me that night. Ayan, the man who seemed so composed and strong, was also deeply sensitive, carrying a burden he refused to share. By morning, I decided to give him the space he needed. The morning sun barely peeked through the curtains when my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced at the screen and read the message: You are required to be physically present for your job in Switzerland. My heart sank as I realized the implications of this sudden trip.