Aarya
spent three nights without sleeping properly before she gave her answer.
She lay
awake in her father's house, staring at the ceiling she had known since
childhood, listening to the familiar sounds of the guards changing shifts
outside. Everything around her felt safe, unchanged—and that was exactly why
her thoughts refused to rest.
If she refused the marriage now, she would walk away cleanly.
No pain. No chains.
But walking away would also mean accepting that everything she had lost once would
remain lost forever.
She remembered the hospital room from her
previous life. The silence after the doctor spoke. The way her arms had felt unbearably empty. That child had existed once. Even if briefly. Even if fate had been cruel.
Her body still remembered how to carry life.
If she left now, fate would move on without her. Someone else would stand where she
once had. The chance would disappear.
By morning, her decision was already made—quietly, without drama, without courage.
"I'll goahead with the marriage," she told her father later that day.
Vikram looked at her carefully. "You don't have to do this for anyone."
"Iknow," she said softly. "I just want things settled."
Rudra accepted her answer with visible relief.
"You seem calmer," he said during one of their meetings.
"I am,"Aarya replied, and did not explain further.
The wedding happened again, smaller and more restrained. Less celebration, more
formality. Aarya stood beside Rudra beneath the sacred fire, composed and
distant, as if she were signing a contract rather than beginning a life.
She did not look at him for reassurance.
After marriage, she lived with him the way one lives beside a stranger—polite,
careful, detached.
She spoke when spoken to.
Shared meals.
Lay beside him at night without turning away, without reaching out.
Rudra noticed the change and mistook it for improvement.
"This is better," he said once. "We understand each other now."
Aarya nodded.
Meera noticed too.
"You've changed," she said lightly one afternoon, watching Aarya with sharp eyes.
"People do," Aarya replied.
When Aarya realized she was pregnant, it was early morning. She stood alone in the
bathroom, the test trembling slightly in her hand.
This time, she did not cry.
She sat down slowly and waited until her
breathing steadied.
She told
no one.
Not Rudra.
Not her father.
Not anyone who might interfere.
She chose her own doctor. Paid quietly. Kept her medication locked away. Meera was
shut out completely, though she didn't yet realize it.
Life continued as usual.
Rudra did not notice anything different. He never did.
Then,while he was away on a business trip, Aarya packed her things.
Only what belonged to her.
She left the house before sunset and went
straight to a lawyer.
The divorce papers were filed the same day.
Rudra found out through his office.
"What is this?" he demanded over the phone. "You didn't even talk to me."
"There was nothing to discuss," Aarya said calmly. "I don't want this marriage."
He accused her of acting suddenly. Of being unstable. Of embarrassing him.
She listened without reacting.
She did not tell him she was pregnant.
The divorce moved quickly.
Rudra did not fight it the way people expected him to. He was tired—tired of
emotional conversations, tired of things he
did not know how to fix.
Meera spoke to him gently, as she always did.
"Give her space," she said. "She's overwhelmed. If you don't push her, she'll calm
down. She'll come back on her own and ask for forgiveness."
He believed her.
It sounded reasonable. Kind, even.
So he signed the papers and told himself this was not an ending—just a pause.
That night, Aarya returned to her father's house.
The gates opened the way they always had. Familiar. Unquestioning.
She went straight to her room.
Her room had not changed much. The wide
windows. The bookshelf she never emptied. The soft lamp her father had insisted
on keeping exactly where it was.
This was not a place prepared for her.
It was a place that had always belonged to her.
She sat on the edge of the bed and let the silence settle.
Then she placed both hands over her stomach and closed her eyes.
"Stay," she whispered. "Just stay."
For the first time since waking up in this life, fear reached her.
Not of Rudra.
Not of Meera.
But of fate.
Somewhere else, Rudra slept believing she would return.
Aarya knew she would not.