Born to Love You

39- Undone

Aru's Pov:

It started with small things, just little gestures to make my point. I didn't want to make a scene, but I needed him to feel it—to feel the distance I was putting between us, even if it was just temporary.

The first time was when he came into the kitchen. I was standing in front of the fridge, and I could feel his presence behind me, so close that I almost could've reached out and touched him. But I didn't. I had to make him feel the silence between us. Without turning around, I flipped my hair back, letting it cascade over my shoulder, blocking his way. I didn't even spare him a glance as I stepped aside, knowing he'd have to move past me to reach the fridge.

He didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. I could sense the frustration in his silence as I simply walked away, leaving him standing there in the cold air of the kitchen. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.

The second time came during dinner. He came in, expecting me to serve him like usual, but I was in no mood to pretend. I was sitting at the table, eating, and when he came in, I just took my time, chewing my food slowly, not even acknowledging that he was there.

When he stood in front of me, waiting for me to pass him the plate or say something, I couldn't be bothered. I just continued eating, my eyes fixed on my plate, ignoring him entirely. He stood there for a moment, watching me with those sharp eyes of his, but I didn't move.

Finally, he sighed, a soft but frustrated sound, and sat down without a word. I couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

But I wasn't finished.

The third time, I decided I'd push it further. He was already getting irritated, I could see it, but I needed to see just how far I could go. I woke up early that morning, leaving before he had a chance to speak to me. I was determined. I'd leave for college as early as possible, just to keep him from seeing me, from making me feel his gaze. I slipped out of the house quietly, without a word, just a simple, deliberate absence.

I left him in that house, knowing he'd notice. It was like a game—a silent, unspoken battle between us, and I wasn't going to be the one to lose. I could feel his presence linger even after I had gone, but I didn't care.

It wasn't the healthiest way to deal with it, but it was all I could do. All I wanted to do was make him feel that absence, feel that distance that had grown between us, even if just for a little while for him to realise he had hurt me.

Aryan's Pov:

The house felt colder than usual, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Aradhya had been avoiding me, and it was driving me insane. She wasn't outright disrespectful—she still cooked, still kept up with her responsibilities—but the warmth she carried, the nervous little glances she'd throw my way, the hesitant conversations... all of it was gone.

I hated it.

Not that I'd admit it to anyone, least of all to her. She didn't deserve to know the effect her absence had on me, not after what happened. My anger that night was justified. She had no business talking about things she didn't understand. Disha's husband wasn't someone you could pity or forgive. He was filth—unworthy of any acceptance, and certainly not mine.

Forgiveness. What a joke.

Some mistakes could be overlooked, I supposed. But then there were the kinds of mistakes that ruined lives, that stripped people of their dignity and left scars you couldn't see. Disha's husband? He belonged to that category, and if Aradhya thought otherwise, she was more naive than I'd given her credit for.

But damn it, her silence was unbearable.

I slammed the glass of whiskey onto the table, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The silence pressed in on me, heavy and suffocating. I missed her. I missed her nonsensical chatter, the way she'd fidget nervously when I was near, the way she always looked as though she was trying to say something but held back.