The morning light filtered through the grand, cream-coloured curtains, casting a soft glow over the spacious bedroom. Jiya blinked awake, momentarily disoriented. The weight of the wedding day still lingered in her bones, but as she turned to the side, she saw the space where Atharv had slept. His absence reminded her of how far they were from being a true couple.
She sat up slowly, gathering the silken sheets around her. The room, though lavish, felt cold—like everything here had been carefully curated to impress but lacked any warmth of true affection. This house, Atharv’s house, felt more like a fortress. Her mission came rushing back to her, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.
"You're awake," Atharv said, standing in the doorway, already dressed for the day. His navy blue suit was tailored to perfection, his hair neatly in place. He looked every bit the successful businessman that he was—composed, controlled, and unreadable.
Jiya nodded, pulling the covers tighter around her. "Good morning."
Atharv studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face, as though he were trying to gauge her mood. "Breakfast is ready downstairs. I have a meeting in an hour, but if you need anything, ask Tara. She'll help you get settled."
"Thank you," Jiya replied softly, unsure of how to engage with him in these quiet moments.
He gave a curt nod, his expression still distant. "I'll see you later."
As Atharv left the room, Jiya let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. This man—this stranger—was supposed to be her husband, and yet they felt miles apart. Still, there was something in his demeanour, a kind of reserved kindness, that she hadn't expected.
Over the next few days, Jiya tried to settle into the rhythm of Atharv’s household. The sprawling mansion, with its marble floors and pristine decor, was vast and intimidating. The servants were polite, though formal, and there was a strange sense of isolation in the air. Jiya often found herself wandering through the halls, lost in thought, wondering how she would carry out her family's wishes in this unfamiliar world.
Atharv, for his part, was always busy. He left early in the morning and returned late at night, immersed in his work. But even in his absence, she could feel his presence—his routines, his habits, his touch on everything that surrounded her. His meticulous nature was reflected in the way everything was organized and the way he carried himself with quiet authority.
One afternoon, Jiya found herself in the kitchen, watching as Tara, the housekeeper, prepared tea. She tried to engage in conversation, but her mind wandered as Tara droned on about household matters. The truth was, she was still trying to figure out where she fit in all this.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the front door open. Atharv had returned home early today. Jiya’s heart skipped a beat, a mixture of nervousness and something she couldn’t quite place.
"Jiya," Atharv’s voice called out from the hallway, surprising her. He rarely sought her out directly.
She stepped out of the kitchen, finding him standing near the staircase, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie loosened as though he’d had a long day. There was something different in his expression today—a softness she hadn’t seen before.
"Yes?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"I wanted to check on you," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "It’s been a few days since… everything. Are you settling in?"
Jiya was caught off guard by his question. "I… yes. It’s all very new, but I’m managing."
Atharv stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her face. "I know this hasn’t been easy for you. It hasn’t been for me either."
For a moment, the mask of indifference slipped, and Jiya saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. He was a man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, but beneath the surface, there was someone… human. Someone real.
"You’ve been kind," Jiya found herself saying, her voice softer now. "I didn’t expect that."
Atharv looked at her for a long moment, as if searching for something in her words. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled. "It’s the least I can do."
They stood there, the silence stretching between them, but this time, it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like something was shifting, something she couldn’t quite name.
That night, after dinner, Jiya wandered into Atharv’s study. It was a room she hadn’t yet explored, and curiosity got the better of her. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with volumes on business, philosophy, and history. His desk was cluttered with documents, evidence of his busy life.
She ran her fingers over the leather-bound books, feeling an odd sense of connection to him. This room was different from the rest of the house. It felt personal, lived-in.
"Are you exploring my secrets?" Atharv’s voice startled her.
She turned to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. He had changed into a more casual outfit—a simple white shirt and black trousers—and looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.
"I… was just curious," Jiya said, feeling her cheeks flush. "I didn’t mean to intrude."
He stepped into the room, his presence filling the space. "You’re not intruding. You’re welcome here, Jiya."
Something about the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It was the first time he’d said it with warmth, with meaning.
Jiya shifted, feeling a strange sense of intimacy between them. "This room is… different. It feels like you."
Atharv chuckled softly, walking over to his desk. "It’s the only place I can think."
She watched as he picked up a small picture frame from the desk. "This was my mother," he said quietly, showing her the photograph. The woman in the photo had kind eyes, and Jiya could see the resemblance between them.
"You don’t talk about her much," Jiya observed, surprised by the sudden openness in him.
Atharv’s expression softened, his gaze lingering on the photo. "I don’t talk about a lot of things." He looked up at her then, his eyes locking onto hers, and in that moment, something shifted.
Jiya felt the walls around her heart begin to crack. He wasn’t just the cold, detached businessman she had been prepared to hate. He was a man with his own struggles, his own pain, and in that moment, she realized she wasn’t just betraying Atharv the businessman—she was betraying the man.
He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time since they had married, Jiya felt an overwhelming desire to reach out, to close the distance between them. But the weight of her mission still hung over her like a dark cloud.
"I don’t know what you expected when we married," Atharv said, his voice low and filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, "but I want you to know… you’re not alone here."
Her heart skipped a beat. The vulnerability in his voice, the honesty, was disarming. She had been sent to destroy him, to make him suffer, but here he was, offering her something she had never anticipated—kindness, and maybe even… affection.
Jiya swallowed hard, her emotions a tangled mess. "Atharv… I…"
He took her hand then, gently, his touch warm and steady. "We don’t have to rush this. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here."
At that moment, all her resolve began to crumble. How could she possibly betray him now?
But the image of her family flashed in her mind—their expectations, their demands. You can’t forget why you’re here, Jiya. You can’t.
She pulled her hand away, her voice barely a whisper. "I… I need time."
Atharv nodded, his expression unreadable once again. "Take all the time you need."
As he left the room, Jiya sank into the chair by his desk, her mind swirling with guilt, confusion, and something that felt dangerously close to affection.
