Her Deviant Husband

Chapter 49

Warning: Mentions of cheating and some disturbing things. Also, read this chapter carefully it has a lot of plot.

Athira's pov.

After stomping back to the bedroom, knowing Reyansh wouldn't be able to follow me immediately, my mind began racing with thoughts that had been lurking in the background.

Why was the Syndicate acting now?
Why had they remained silent for so many years?
What grievance, if any, did they have against the Roys? And was there even a reason at all?

I let out a deep sigh, inhaling the scent of spice, musk, and leather that seemed to linger in the air—his scent. I caught a faint whiff of it clinging to my own skin and clothes, instinctively bringing my shoulder closer for another breath. The same warmth, the same familiarity. Reyansh. A soft, almost dorky smile tugged at my lips. Hell, I loved the way he smelled on me. It grounded me, soothed me, gave me clarity when I was alone with my thoughts.

Kicking off my heels, I stepped into our shared closet, placing my purse back in its usual spot. Just as I was about to turn away, something caught my eye—a small, old diary tucked into a far corner. I had noticed it before, but never paid much attention. Had Reyansh known it was here, I doubted it would have remained untouched. But today, for some reason, curiosity got the better of me.

I reached for the diary, flipping through its fragile pages, until a photograph slipped free. A stunning woman sat on an elegant chair, holding a small boy on her lap, while a tall, handsome man in a guard's uniform stood protectively beside them. My breath hitched as I looked closer, my gaze drawn to the boy's wide, innocent amber eyes—the same eyes as the woman.

Realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This was Reyansh. A younger, softer version of him, back when his eyes still held light—before time and pain had stolen it away.

Fuck. He looked adorable. There was an innocence in his face, a quiet joy in the way he clung to his mother. I ran my fingers reverently over the worn edges of the photograph, lost in thought.

What kind of man would he have been if she had lived? Would he still carry that same light? Would he have ever needed to build walls around himself?

The ache in my chest was sudden and sharp.
Some things, I supposed, I would never have answers to.

I carefully turned the fragile pages of the diary, the yellowed paper crackling softly under my fingertips. There was something eerie about it, something almost sacred.

A strange tension settled in my chest as I reached the first page, ink faded but still legible.

"I am a sinner."

The opening line sent a shiver down my spine. My eyes darted to the name signed at the bottom of the page. My breath caught.

Arathrika Sehgal.

This diary... it belonged to Reyansh's mother.

My hands tightened around the delicate book as I forced myself to read on, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"I am a sinner, and I have paid for my sins. I loved a man who could never be mine. And I married another to atone for that sin. My dear sister, Akira—my sweet, reckless sister—fell in love with a normal man, a man who could let her escape this world and treasure her. Unlike me who fell in love with a man who was a part of my world for years. So, I helped her get her dream, I helped my sister run away. And I was left behind. Punished to restore my family's honor. To marry the man who was meant to marry her. The heir to the Ahluwalia family. To live a life that was never meant to be mine."