Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

88. In Our Own Worlds

(Sarah's Pov)

The previous night had been difficult. Throughout dinner, I felt awkwardly out of place among Ryan, Nitya, and Harsh. They spoke with a familiarity and ease that made her feel small, like I didn’t belong in their circle. If it weren’t for Krystal, I wouldn’t have made it through the meal. She was the only one who made me feel remotely comfortable. Still, even her presence couldn’t fully erase how "low class" I felt sitting at that table.

This morning, Ryan brought up another plan. He wanted me to join his university friends for a little gathering. I knew instantly that I didn’t want to go.

"Come on, join us," Ryan said, clearly frustrated. "What’s the problem this time? Are you just going to sit in front of the TV all day? Why did you even bother coming if that’s what you’re going to do?"

I kept my voice low, trying not to let my feelings show. "You left me with no choice," I replied, but even I could hear the hurt creeping into my tone.

Ryan wasn’t having it. "Oh, don’t give me that! You’re the one who started this. If you hadn’t told them about the honeymoon, I wouldn’t be doing this."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. "Ryan, it’s your life. Don’t mix it with mine. I’m fine here. You can go enjoy your day with your friends. I won’t get in your way, but please stop trying to force me into your plans."

His face hardened. "Alright," he muttered, storming out of the room and leaving me standing there, feeling hollow.

The silence in the room after he left was deafening. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or let anyone see how hurt I was.

The trip finally ended, and as soon as we got home, Ryan headed straight to the hospital without even taking a moment to rest.

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It’s been a week since then, and looking back, living under the same roof hasn’t been nearly as difficult as I thought it might be. We don't squabble like the couples you see on TV; there’s no constant arguing over trivial things. Even when it comes to the bathroom, there’s no fuss. Ryan wakes up earlier than I do most days, and on the rare occasions that I’m up first, we just wait for one another without a word of complaint. It’s a quiet understanding.
He never points out my slightly messy bed, and I keep my things from spilling over into his space. We each have our space and respect the boundaries. Our daily routines rarely overlap, and we don’t bother sharing personal items.
We’re each preoccupied with our own lives. He’s busy with his routines, and I’m wrapped up in mine.
But once in a while, when the mood is just right, we’ll sit down and play online games together.

That evening during dinner, Ryan's mom casually mentioned that I should do the Karva Chauth fast the next day. The thought of it immediately made me uneasy... fasting has never been my thing. I can’t stand the idea of going without food for long; the hunger pangs drive me crazy.

The next morning, before dawn, she handed me a plate piled high with sweets and insisted that I eat them all before starting the fast. I hesitated and asked if I could have something other than sweets, but she firmly refused, saying this was the traditional way, and I had to stick to it.

I’m not a fan of sweets, and I rarely indulge in them. Still, out of courtesy, I picked up a single piece of rasgulla and ate it. That turned out to be the only food I would have for the entire day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and purples, my stomach was practically growling. I was starving, but Ryan’s mom had been adamant that I couldn't eat anything until Ryan got home. She insisted it was essential since this was my first Karva Chauth. I tried calling Ryan multiple times, hoping he would answer. But he never picked up, and eventually, his phone was turned off. Frustration boiled inside me, and I finally retreated to my bed, feeling the hunger pangs intensify.

The clock struck midnight, and the door creaked open, pulling me from a restless sleep. I blinked and saw Ryan entering the room, casually tossing his bag onto his bed as if he hadn’t kept me waiting for hours.

I shot up, indignation coursing through me. “Do you even know what time it is?” I demanded, my voice tight with irritation.

He shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. “I was busy in surgery.”