Morning arrived quietly.
No sirens.
No shouting.
No dramatic headlines screaming from the gates.
Just sunlight slipping through the curtains like it had always belonged there.
I woke to the steady beep of a heart monitor.
Not mine.
Arjun lay on the hospital bed beside the window, pale but breathing evenly, a thin line of stitches running across his side. Tubes and wires surrounded him, but for the first time since I'd known his name—
He looked real.
Alive.
Safe.
Riyan stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the city like he was seeing it for the first time.
"You should sleep," I said softly.
He shook his head. "I'm afraid if I close my eyes, I'll wake up and this will be gone."
I understood that fear too well.
Arjun stirred slightly, his lips curving into a weak smile.
"You're both still here," he murmured. "So I guess I'm not dreaming."
Riyan turned instantly, crossing the room in two strides.
"Easy," he said, voice rough. "Doctor said no hero movements."
Arjun chuckled weakly. "You were never good at listening to doctors either."
Riyan swallowed hard, then did something I hadn't seen him do before.
He laughed.
Not bitter.
Not hollow.
Real.
"I thought I lost you," he said quietly.
Arjun's gaze softened. "You didn't. You were just… delayed."
Silence settled between them—heavy, emotional, unfinished.
Then Arjun looked at me.
"I owe you everything," he said. "You stepped into hell so we could walk out."
I shook my head. "You protected me first. Long before I knew who you were."
His eyes flickered with memory.
"You always deserved better than the story they gave you."
Riyan turned to me then.
His expression wasn't cold anymore.
Wasn't guarded.
It was… honest.
"I spent years punishing you for a crime you didn't commit," he said quietly. "If you walk away now, I won't stop you."
My heart clenched.
"And if I don't?" I asked.
He hesitated—just for a second.
"Then we start again," he said. "Not as a deal. Not as a punishment. As a choice."
Choice.
The word felt powerful.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
I stepped closer.
"I didn't survive all this to run," I said. "But I won't stay out of obligation either."
His lips curved faintly. "I wouldn't want you to."
Arjun closed his eyes, smiling.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm too tired to watch another tragic misunderstanding."
A nurse knocked and stepped inside, smiling politely.
"Visiting hours are almost over," she said. "But he's stable. He'll recover."
Relief washed through me so strong my knees nearly gave out.
When she left, Riyan reached for my hand—not urgently, not possessively.
Just there.
"Things will get ugly," he warned softly. "The board. The press. The fallout."
"I know," I replied.
"And my family won't forgive easily."
I met his eyes.
"Neither do I."
That earned a quiet smile.
Outside the window, the city moved on—cars, people, life continuing like it always had.
But inside that room, something had shifted.
We weren't bound by hatred anymore.
Or secrets.
Or fear.
The past hadn't disappeared.
But it no longer owned us.
And for the first time since I married the man who hated me—
I wasn't surviving.
I was choosing what came next.