𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: 𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐨 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲

Chapter 13

We hit 50k in just 12 chapters!
T

hank you so much to each one of you.

•Aaravi's pov•

I sat curled up on the balcony chair, hugging my knees, my eyes lost in the endless blue of the sea. The breeze was cool, brushing against my face like a gentle whisper, as if the wind was trying to tell me something—something I desperately needed to hear. Maybe that I was safe now. Maybe that I could finally breathe.

I closed my eyes, letting the wind wrap around me. For the first time in a while, my soul felt quiet. Still. Peaceful.

But the trance didn't last long.

"Why are you sitting here without changing your clothes? Change into something comfortable, and then we'll have breakfast," came his voice—low, irritated, breaking the stillness like a rock thrown into calm water.

I flinched, quietly nodding, and stood up without meeting his eyes. The warmth that had just begun to settle around my heart faded again, like it always did in his presence.

"I'll arrange lunch," he added curtly, and just like that, he left the room, taking the brief moment of peace with him.

I dragged my luggage onto the bed, unzipped it, and took out a purple saree with tiny golden motifs, a matching blouse and petticoat, my brush, and my sindoor. I always packed it all neatly—even if no one cared how I looked, I cared. I cared because somewhere deep inside, I still wanted to feel like I mattered.

After finishing in the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying my hair. I parted it gently and pressed a pinch of vermillion into my hairline. The red streak always made me feel something—like I was claiming my place, even if that place was uncertain and fragile.

I slipped on matching bangles and clutched my phone, stepping out of the room quietly.

The house... it was beautiful. Not just in the aesthetic sense—but in the way it felt. Warm. Lived-in. Loved. Not a hotel with sterile lighting and stiff sheets, but a house—a real house—where the air smelled of salt and sun, and the sea sang just outside the balcony.

This... this was exactly how I had imagined Greece in my dreams.

Staying in a house by the sea. Not a five-star hotel. A house that made you feel like you belonged. Because a hotel can never give a homey feeling.

Was it really a coincidence?

I sighed softly. It had to be. Why would he care enough to do something like that for me?

Still, my heart refused to believe it was just a coincidence. Maybe that was my biggest flaw—hoping where there should be none.

I wandered through the house, my fingertips brushing the white-and-blue walls, until a soft sound caught my attention. Clinking. A faint sizzling.

I followed it... and stopped dead in my tracks.

There he was—in the kitchen.

Wearing a black apron.

Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Veins prominent. Hair tousled. Eyes focused.

Cooking.

For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

I didn't know whether it was the sight of him like this—so casual, so strangely domestic—or the fact that my aloof, distant husband was cooking lunch in a house he booked instead of a hotel. Either way, I found myself staring. Hard.