The Sisodia heirs stood unrivaled in control and possession, their world a testament to their might. To onlookers, their lives were a manifestation of perfection, with their family and surname commanding respect, prestige, and reputation.
Yet, behi...
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The next morning, Aviraj enters his room, having just wrapped up his work in the home office.
Prepared to leave for his company, he was looking out for a peaceful morning. However, his gaze falls upon the empty space on the bed where his blazer had been neatly laid out earlier. A faint crease on the bedspread was the only indication that it had there at all.
Bafflement etches on his face, and he tries to recall where it might have been misplaced. At the same time, Tarini emerges from the walk-in closet, her presence drawing his attention like a magnet.
Their eyes meet for a fleeting instant before she looks away, the weight of their last argument hanging palpably between them.
They hadn't talked to each other since then, given he had been occupied with his work after leaving Aayansh's room, and she had retired to bed before he returned.
Tarini walks towards him, her movement spontaneous, though seeming more like avoidance than approach. She passes him indifferently with her shoulder nudging his with a subtle yet firm touch that might have been accidental.
Aviraj's gaze trails her, as she reaches the door and slams it shut with a loud thud that echoes through the room. The sound seems to reverberate through the silence, a manifestation of the tangible distance between them.
Tarini turns back, striding to make her way to the dressing table. This time, Aviraj himself steps back, clearing a path for her in a silent gesture.
She walks past him once again, without acknowledging his presence and the courtesy he had extended, and sits down at the dressing table, her focus turning to getting ready.
Aviraj's watches her discreetly from afar, his mind wandering back their heated exchange from previous evening. He concludes that her fury had only escalated in the intervening hours, the cooling-down period doing little to alleviate the intensity.
Unfolding the sleeves of his shirt, he slips into the walk-in closet. Scanning the array of blazers, he picks out a new one, the lost blazer momentarily forgotten in the face of more pressing concerns.
He returns after changing, and catches the sight of Tarini, who was now standing in front of the mirror. Her waist length hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of dark silk, already dry from the earlier blow-dry, but she was running the dryer through it again with a delicate touch.
For a moment, Aviraj was captivated by her serene beauty, the soft focus of the morning light rendering her almost otherworldly. The hum of the dryer and the mild rustle of her hair creates a soothing melody that seems to mesmerize him.
He almost steps in her direction, spellbound by the familiar allure of her presence, but the memory of facing her wrath earlier keeps him from approaching her. Not daring to upset her further, he hesitates, his feet rooted to the spot.
Making his way to the bed, Aviraj picks up his phone from the side drawer. He sits down, pretending to scroll through messages, but his gaze keep drifting back to his wife, sneaking glances at her.
