Sacred Games Of Twisted Fate {18+}

* pregnant? *

***author's pov***

Aayara stumbled into the kitchen, her hand clutching her stomach as a wave of nausea hit her. She barely had time to react before she clamped her hand over her mouth and rushed to the bathroom. Her vision blurred as she bent over the sink, vomiting the contents of her stomach. She gasped for air, trying to steady herself, her heart racing in panic.

The thought hit her like a lightning bolt. Am I pregnant? Like really! , this is happened two time from a while ..

She froze for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her breath came in short bursts as the question lingered in her mind. The idea seemed almost impossible, but the sickness, the dizziness... it all made sense now. Her stomach churned again, and she quickly braced herself against the sink.

No. This couldn’t be happening. How could she be pregnant? She had been so careful—hadn’t she? A million thoughts rushed through her mind, and her head spun with confusion, fear, and uncertainty. She felt trapped, unsure of what to do next.

Shakily, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze fixed on the bathroom door. What if I am  really pregnant? What does this mean for me?

She swallowed hard, trying to fight the growing panic inside her. Everything felt so overwhelming—this uncertainty, this sudden shift in her life. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before slowly walking back into the kitchen, her mind in a daze. She needed answers, but she didn't even know where to start.

🏵️

Aayara carefully placed the breakfast tray on the table, her hands trembling slightly as she took a deep breath. She had spent the last few minutes trying to steady her nerves, the thought of her recent discovery still weighing heavily on her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty, but there was no turning back now. She had to face him.

She knocked gently on his door before entering, her heart racing as she saw him standing by the mirror, his tie in his hands. His expression was cold, emotionless, as usual. The distant, guarded look in his eyes made her stomach churn.

"Good morning," Aayara said softly, her voice unsteady despite her best efforts to sound calm. She walked over to the table, placing the tray with breakfast in front of him. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, but he didn’t acknowledge her immediately.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his face still devoid of emotion as he adjusted his tie, completely absorbed in his task.

"I made breakfast for you," she added quietly, watching him in silence.

Arjun didn’t respond right away, his fingers working methodically, adjusting the tie with practiced precision. Aayara couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in her chest. She stood there, unsure of what to say next. She had so many questions, so much confusion swirling inside her, but she couldn’t seem to find the courage to voice them.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low but sharp. "You didn’t need to." His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, there was something almost vulnerable in them. But it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Aayara tried to smile, but it felt forced. "I know. But I wanted to."

She stood by the door, waiting for him to finish, her thoughts swirling with everything she had discovered. Her body still felt uneasy from the nausea, but she tried to ignore it. It wasn’t the right moment to address it, especially not with him.

Arjun straightened up, finishing with his tie before turning his attention back to her. His gaze flickered toward the breakfast, and then back to her face. "You’re acting strange. What’s wrong?"

Aayara hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, she swallowed hard and simply shook her head.

"Nothing," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just... I’m just tired."

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth yet—not until she was sure. But as she stood there, the uncertainty gnawing at her, she realized she was already standing on the edge of something far bigger than she could have imagined.

Aayara stood frozen as Arjun approached her, his eyes filled with an emotion she had rarely seen from him—vulnerability. He gripped her shoulders gently, but there was a firmness in his touch that made her heart race.

"If you're upset with me about how I behaved this morning, I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer than usual.

Aayara stared at him, surprised by his sudden vulnerability. She had never seen him apologize for anything so sincerely before. She blinked, trying to process his words. "It's okay, Arjun," she replied, her voice quiet but comforting.

He shook his head, his fingers digging slightly into her shoulders as he continued, "No, it’s not. You don't understand. It was my mother’s saree. I loved her so much. She left me when I was just eight." His voice faltered for a moment, the rawness of his words hanging heavily in the air. "When I saw you in that saree, I... I thought you would leave me too. Just like she did."

Aayara’s heart twisted in her chest. She never expected him to open up like this, never thought she would hear such a raw, painful confession from him. She saw the fear and pain in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as if holding back everything he had been bottling up for years.

Before she could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her as if he were afraid to let go, and she could feel the tremor in his body. His fingers gently traced the nail marks on her back, the ones he had left in a moment of anger. His touch was tender now, almost apologetic, as though he were trying to make amends for everything that had happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don't know how to handle these feelings. I never wanted to be this way. But I couldn’t help it."

Aayara’s breath caught in her throat as she stood in his arms, unsure of what to say. She could feel the weight of his confession, the rawness of his emotions. Despite everything that had happened, there was a part of her that understood—understood his fear, his anger, and his pain. He was broken in ways she couldn’t fully grasp, but she could see it now. The cracks in his armor.

Gently, she placed her hands on his back, feeling the warmth of his body. "Arjun," she whispered softly, "I won’t leave you. I’m not going anywhere."

Her words seemed to break something in him, and he hugged her tighter, burying his face in her hair. For a moment, they stood there, holding each other, both lost in the silence of the moment. The weight of his past, of his mother’s abandonment, was heavy, but for now, in this moment, they both seemed to find solace in each other’s presence.