The Unwanted Royal Marriage

59. She's manipulating me.

Adhyay's pov

It had been a week since we found out about our twins, and Meera was already two months into her pregnancy. Yet here I was, sitting in my office, managing work while keeping constant tabs on her. Thanks to Kabeer, I never missed a single detail. Kabeer, my brother, seemed more concerned about Meera than I was—something I didn't mind. If anything, I respected him for it. He knew far more about pregnancies, courtesy of his experience in Canada.

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when Rajat walked in, his face a mix of irritation and annoyance.

"Sir, there's someone here to meet you," he said curtly.

"Who?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"She claims to be a well-wisher," he replied, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Let her in," I said, curiosity piqued.

Moments later, a woman entered. She appeared to be around fifty, her lips curled in a sly smile that immediately unsettled me.

"Rana sa, khamma ghanni," she said, joining her hands in greeting.

"Ghanni khamma," I replied with a nod. "Kaun hai aap?"

"Namaste, jamaisa. Main Geetanjali Kapoor," she said. Her name struck a chord, though I couldn't place it immediately.

"Kya kaam hai?" I asked, my confusion growing.

"Kaam kuch nahi, jamaisa... bas aapki aankhein kholni hai," she said cryptically, the sinister smile never leaving her face.

Jamaisa? The word grated on my nerves.

"Par aap hain kaun?" I pressed.

"Arey, kya Meera ne kabhi mujhe mention nahi kiya?" she asked, her smirk widening.

The mention of Meera immediately set me on edge.

"Aapko meri biwi ke baare mein kaise pata?" I asked, irritation seeping into my voice.

She laughed—a hollow, mocking sound.

"Saggi bua hoon uski. Geetanjali Oberoi Kapoor," she said smugly.

It clicked then. Meera had briefly mentioned this woman during one of our conversations about her family.

"Aap yahaan?" I asked, more curious than wary now.

She leaned forward slightly, her expression cold. "Haan. Tumhare liye kuch laye hain hum. Muh dikhayi ka tohfa."

Frowning, I watched as she retrieved an envelope from her purse and handed it to me. I hesitated for a moment, then opened it.

Inside were photos—photos of Meera with a man. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I sifted through them. The images were damning. Meera looked happy, victorious even, and the man's hand rested possessively on her waist. They seemed... close. Too close.

As I stared at the photos, a sharp pain settled in my chest.

"Rohan Arora," she said, her voice slicing through my thoughts.

The name hit me like a punch.

"Rohan Arora?!" I repeated, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

"Haan... photos from Italy. I think you know who he is," she said with a smirk that only fueled my irritation.

Of course, I knew him. Rohan Arora. The man who stole Meera away from me for three years. The man because of whom Meera faked her own death to protect me. She had vanished to Italy, leaving me shattered, while she secretly stashed him behind bars and carried Ruhaan in her womb. All of it without my knowledge.