My hands were still trembling long after Riyan's mother left the room.
Her words clung to my skin like poison:
"You ruined one Malhotra already.
Don't ruin another."
I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to steady my breathing. The sitting room felt suffocating—like the walls themselves were warning me to run.
I stood up shakily, intending to leave before anyone else found me alone.
But as soon as I opened the door—
Riyan stood on the other side.
His eyes immediately scanned my face.
The fear.
The shakiness.
The redness in my eyes from holding back tears.
His expression changed instantly—
from neutral
to tense
to furious.
"Aarvi," he said quietly, "what happened?"
I shook my head quickly. "N-Nothing. I just—"
"Don't lie to me."
His voice cut through the air, sharp and controlled.
But not angry at me.
Angry for me.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You're shaking."
I looked away, embarrassed.
"I'm fine."
He caught my wrist gently.
"Who was here?" he demanded. "Who talked to you?"
I didn't want to tell him.
Not because I wanted to protect her—
but because I didn't want to make things worse.
But my silence was an answer on its own.
Riyan's jaw clenched.
"My mother," he said, not a question but a certainty.
I swallowed hard.
He exhaled slowly—
but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.
"What did she say to you?" he asked.
His voice was soft, but the softness was dangerous.
"I-It's not important—"
"It is," he cut in. "Everything that scares you is important to me."
My breath hitched.
He didn't realize what he had just said.
Or maybe he did.
He took another step, closing the distance between us. His voice dropped even lower.
"Aarvi," he whispered, "tell me what she said."
I hesitated.
He waited.
He didn't rush me.
Didn't force my chin up.
Didn't snap.
He simply stood there…
waiting to catch the truth I was afraid to speak.
Finally, I whispered:
"She told me I don't belong here."
His eyes darkened.
"She said I should stay insignificant… because I ruined Arjun," I continued, voice cracking.
His breath froze.
"And she said…"
Tears welled in my eyes again.
"…that if I ever stand in your way, this house will swallow me whole."
Riyan closed his eyes for a long, tense second.
When he opened them again, they were burning.
Not with hatred.
Not with grief.
But with a terrifying calm fury I had never seen in him.
"Aarvi," he said, voice shaking with barely contained rage, "you should have called me."
"I didn't want to cause trouble—"
"You are my wife," he snapped—then quickly lowered his voice, as if catching himself.
My heart thudded painfully.
"I will decide who is trouble," he said quietly.
"Not you."
I stared at him, stunned.
Then something in him broke.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once like he was fighting himself.
"She had no right," he muttered. "No right to speak to you like that. No right to threaten you. No right to blame you."
"Riyan—"
He turned sharply, eyes blazing.
"I told you not to be alone with them," he said. "Not because I don't trust you—because I don't trust them."
My breath caught.
"From now on," he said firmly, stepping closer again, "if anyone—anyone—tries to corner you, you tell me immediately."
His voice softened.
"And you don't walk away alone. Ever."
A warmth spread through my chest—
the kind that came from finally, finally being defended.
But that warmth was quickly replaced by fear.
"Your family will hate me more," I whispered. "They'll think I'm making you change."
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then—
to my shock—
he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"They don't get to decide what I feel," he murmured.
My breath caught painfully.
His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary.
Then he withdrew his hand.
"We're in this together now," he said quietly. "You. And me. Against whoever tries to bury the truth."
For a moment…
it felt like the world had stopped spinning.
But then—
A loud THUD echoed from upstairs.
Riyan and I whipped our heads toward the sound.
Another noise followed.
Something falling.
Something heavy.
Riyan stiffened.
"Stay behind me," he said instantly, protective instinct flaring.
My heart raced.
"What was that?" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the ceiling.
"That sound," he murmured, "came from the West Wing."
A chill ran through me.
We weren't the only ones awake tonight.