The room still smelled of roses and incense when I finally lifted my veil.
Everyone had left. The laughter downstairs had faded. The music was gone. It was just the two of us now — husband and wife.
Arman stood near the window, his back facing me. His shoulders were stiff, not relaxed like a man who had just married the love of his life.
"Arman?" I called softly.
He turned slowly. He smiled.
But it wasn't the smile I had fallen in love with.
It was careful. Controlled. Almost forced.
"You must be tired," he said.
Tired?
My heart was racing too loudly for me to feel tired.
I had imagined this moment a thousand times. He would come closer. Hold my hands. Whisper something sweet. Maybe tell me how beautiful I looked tonight.
Instead, he kept his distance.
There was something in his eyes.
Guilt.
Fear.
Or maybe… regret?
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
But that second was enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Yes," he replied quickly. "Everything is fine."
Everything was not fine.
I could feel it.
The silence between us grew heavier. He avoided my eyes. His phone buzzed suddenly on the table.
He looked at the screen.
And his face changed.
Color drained from his skin.
He grabbed the phone too quickly, as if hiding something.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"No one."
No one.
Then why did his hands tremble?
He walked toward the balcony and answered the call in a low voice. I couldn't hear the words — only the tension in his tone.
My stomach twisted.
A strange feeling began to grow inside me.
This wasn't shyness.
This wasn't nervousness.
This was something else.
Something dark.
When he came back inside, I pretended not to notice.
But I noticed everything.
The way he avoided touching me.
The way he kept checking his phone.
The way his smile never reached his eyes.
That was the moment I realized—
Tonight wasn't going to be the beginning of a fairy tale.
It was the beginning of a truth I wasn't ready to hear.
And deep inside, I knew…
Whatever that truth was,
It would change everything.