His Arranged Bride

Chapter 44

Nitya

Clutching Prathamji's lunch in my hand, as I walk toward his factory, I notice a hop in my steps, brought about by that tiny flutter of hope rising within my chest after my conversation with him one week back.

He told me he wants to make things work, to start anew with me. It's a glimmer of future I have been longing for—where our marriage is not just a duty but something meaningful, built on mutual trust, respect, and maybe even love.

Yet, along with this newfound hope, there is also a small knot of worry in my stomach. Prathamji has been seeming distracted for the last one week. And the way he has been talking and behaving, I feel like he is hiding something.

Part of me wants to ask him outright what's going on. But he has asked for time, and I have agreed to it because I believe he'll tell me everything once he is ready to do so.

Continuing to walk, I can't help but think about the unexpected intimacy between Prathamji and me last night.

The memory makes me blush, my cheeks growing warm as I recall how his lips felt on mine, how his touch sent shivers down my spine.

It all started after I turned off the lights and we both laid on the bed to sleep.

Before I could turn to him and hug him, I felt his hand gently touch my shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against my skin.

Surprised by it, when I turned to look at his face—soft in the moonlight streaming through the window—I noticed his expression almost... vulnerable.

"Nitya," he whispered, pulling me closer to him and engulfing me in a tight hug.

My heart skipped a bit, and for a moment, I froze, before I raised my hand to run them up and down his back.

"Prathamji." I looked up at him, feeling his warmth against my skin, the steady thump of his heartbeat echoing in my ear.

He tilted his head down, his lips brushing against my forehead first, then trailing down to my cheeks and jaw. His breath was warm as it fanned my face, and I could feel every place his mouth touched like it was igniting fire within me from the inside out. I trembled slightly, my body reacting to his closeness, to the way his lips felt against my skin.

He kissed me on the lips, soft and tender first, then again with a bit more pressure, more need. Butterflies swooped in the pit of my stomach as I realized it was not only our first kiss, but also my first kiss ever.

Feeling myself melting against him, I responded to the kiss, moaning when he skimmed my lips with his tongue before thrusting it inside, exploring every bit of my mouth.

I moved my hands up to his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my fingers. 

Prathamji groaned softly, his lips moving to my jaw, pressing kisses there, then lower, trailing along my neck.

I shivered, my breath coming faster, my heart racing in my chest.

His closeness and fierce kisses evoked such sensations within me that I found myself wanting to stay in that moment forever, lost in his touch, in the way he made me feel.

But then, he pulled back, his breathing ragged as he looked at me.

"Nitya, I....," he paused, but my heart fluttered due to what I saw in his eyes.

Did I see my feelings reflected in them?

Wanting to--yet not daring to--hope, I cupped his cheek, and asked, "What were you about to say?"

Prathamji opened his mouth, and I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw a tender expression marring his face.

I waited for him to reply. To confirm what I saw in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Only sighed and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Just a few days more, Nitya," he said. "I'll tell you everything then."

A loud shout from a nearby street vendor pulls me out of my thoughts, jolting me back to the present.

I blink, shaking my head slightly as a small smile curves my lips. My cheeks are still warm from the recollection, and I take a moment to steady my breathing.

Running my fingers over my lips, I feel his touch that still lingers there.

But even as that memory fills me with a sense of comfort and belonging with him, there is also a sliver of doubt that has creeped within me.

The intimacy we shared last night—it felt wonderful, yes, but also.... like he was seeking something, some kind of reassurance. As if he was troubled by something but was not able to share it with me.

My steps slow as I near the factory, and I bite my lip, unable to shrug off the uneasiness rising within me. A sense of restlessness gnaws at me as I enter the factory, and I'm unable to fathom why I'm feeling that way.

Perhaps I'm overthinking a little too much.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way toward Prathamji's office, eager to see him.

He has said he'll tell me everything after a few days, so I won't spoil our time by thinking about it. All I'll do is spend time with him and make new memories with him. Beautiful memories that will serve as a prelude to our happy life together.

As I reach his office, I smile imagining his surprised face on seeing me here. 

With my smile still intact, I push the door open—only to stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

Prathamji is standing in the middle of the office, his back to me. And hugging him tightly is a woman I have never seen before. Her face is pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck.

My breath catches in my throat, my heart plummeting into my stomach.

I can't move, can't breathe. All I do is stare, my mind reeling.

Is she Sandhya?

As if she heard my thoughts, on cue, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine over Prathamji's shoulder.

A slow, smug smile spreads across her face, and she pulls back just enough to look up at him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"You have already done enough, Pratham," she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It's now time to free yourself from the marriage you were forced into."

Her words hit me like a slap on my face. I feel like the floor has fallen out from under me, my world crashing around me.

Prathamji doesn't turn, doesn't even seem to notice me standing at his door. But she smirks at me with her hand still wrapped around Prathamji. There is a cruel gleam in her eyes as she leans close to him and kisses on the side of his neck.

Unable to tolerate it anymore, I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away.

And before I even realize what I'm doing, I start running, my feet pounding against the floor as I flee from the office, from the factory, from him.

Tears blur my vision, my chest tightening painfully with each step that I take.

How could he do this to me? How could he say he wanted to start anew with me, come close to me, make me hope for our future, and then crush that hope so brutally? How? Why?

As I continue running, I realize I have no idea where I am going. Yet, I don't stop because there is this need in me to get away. To find somewhere I can let my pain out. Somewhere I can fall apart.