Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

131. Stop Being So Nice To Me That I Can't Handle

Without a word, Ryan moved forward and knelt down in front of me. Before I could protest, he started fixing the pleats of my saree, his hands moving deftly as if he’d done it a thousand times.

“Ryan, you don’t have to do that,” I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with him at my feet. "Please, get up."

He didn’t even glance up, his focus entirely on his task. "It’s fine. I used to help my mom with this when I was younger. She wasn’t great at sarees either, at least not in the beginning.”

I stood there, watching him in disbelief. My heart raced, and I struggled to find the right words. “But Ryan… she’s your mom. I’m… not... comfortable...”

He paused, lifting his head to meet my eyes. His expression was soft but firm. “And you’re my wife. That makes you my responsibility, too.”

I was at a loss for words. He turned back to the saree, smoothing out the fabric with such care that I could hardly believe what was happening.

My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the surge of emotion. "Ryan, please."
I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

Stop being so nice to me that I can't handle.

The more he goes easy on me, the more he softens with each word, each gesture, the harder it becomes to keep my distance. Every time he notices the small things and tries to fix them, it chips away at the walls I’ve built.
His quiet understanding, the way he offers help without making me feel small, I find myself falling for him a little more.
I didn't want to fall again, I tell myself. But with each act of kindness, it’s getting harder to resist.

After fixing the pleats, Ryan stood up, and without a word, reached out to casually pull the stick from my hair that held my bun together. In an instant, my hair fell over my shoulders, cascading down freely. He had no idea how that simple, thoughtless action sent a wave of emotions rippling through me—one that stirred deep inside, making it nearly impossible to stay composed.

I swallowed my feelings, following him quietly as we made our way to his car. He didn’t seem to notice the turmoil swirling within me as he drove us through the city for the next half hour. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather, it gave me too much time to think, to reflect on how effortless his actions could affect me.

When we arrived, Ryan parked in the underground lot of a grand hotel.
As we stepped into the hall, my eyes widened. The sheer opulence of the venue made me feel small and out of place. Chandeliers hung like stars from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over people dressed in luxurious attire—everywhere I looked, it felt like I had stepped into a world of aristocrats. My simple, plain periwinkle saree felt even more inadequate in comparison, as if it wasn’t made for a place like this.

Ryan walked confidently ahead, his strides long and purposeful, while I followed closely, trying to keep up. He went straight to the groom, and they immediately engaged in a lively conversation. The groom seemed to light up at the sight of Ryan, and after a moment, he turned toward me, extending his hand with a wide grin.

"Hello, bhabhi," he greeted warmly, offering a handshake.

I hesitated. Before I could decide whether to shake his hand or not, Ryan swiftly stepped in, playfully swatting his friend's hand away.

I smiled faintly, feeling a mix of relief and awkwardness. Not wanting to intrude on their banter or attract more attention to myself, I stepped back a little, keeping some distance from both Ryan and the crowd. The vibrant atmosphere swirled around me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, like I was trying to blend into a scene where I didn’t quite belong.