Mihir's POV

"I leave tomorrow."

The words landed quietly.

Too quietly.

I looked up from the file in my hands.

For a fraction of a second, my mind stopped on the word.

Leave.

Then the rest followed.

Tomorrow.

Manhattan.

The project.

Right.

She had mentioned it months ago.

I remembered approving the schedule when she was still treating me like little more than a signature on a contract.

I had forgotten the date.

Or maybe...

I hadn't wanted to remember it.

I closed the file.

"When?"

"Evening flight."

I nodded once.

"How long?"

"A week."

Only a week.

It should have been reassuring.

Instead, an unfamiliar tension settled somewhere beneath my ribs.

A week.

Seven days.

It wasn't long.

People traveled for work all the time.

She was capable.

Independent.

Far more prepared than most executives I had ever worked with.

There was absolutely no reason to worry.

So why did I?

I ignored the feeling before it could grow.

"Everything ready?"

She nodded.

"Almost."

Silence settled between us again.

She looked... uncertain.

Not about the trip.

About something else.

I recognized it because I'd seen it earlier that morning.

Whenever she was thinking too much, her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of whatever she was holding.

Tonight...

it was her phone.

"You don't seem excited."

She smiled faintly.

"I should be."

"But?"

She looked away.

"I don't know."

Neither did I.

Because if I admitted the truth...

I wasn't particularly pleased either.

Not because of Manhattan.

Not because of work.

Because she wouldn't be here.

The realization irritated me.

This wasn't supposed to matter.

It was a contract.

Four months.

Temporary.

Clear.

Simple.

Somewhere along the way...

it had stopped feeling simple.

I stood and walked toward the window instead of looking at her.

The city lights blurred against the glass.

"Is everything arranged?"

"Yes."

"Accommodation?"

"The company handled it."

I nodded.

"Good."

Another pause.

I almost asked more.

Almost.

Who was leading the project with her?

Who else was flying?

Would someone receive her at the airport?

Would she be working late?

Would she remember to eat?

The questions came one after another.

I buried every single one.

None of them belonged to me.

Not in this marriage.

Not in this agreement.

Not in the place I occupied in her life.

If I asked...

It would sound possessive.

Suspicious.

Like I was trying to claim a right I didn't have.

And I refused to do that.

So instead, I asked the only question that felt fair.

"When do you return?"

"Next Friday."

"I'll send someone to pick you up."

She looked at me.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

A small pause.

"I want to make sure you get home safely."

The moment the words left my mouth, I wondered if I'd said too much.

But she didn't look uncomfortable.

She only studied me quietly.

"Okay."

That single word eased something inside me more than it should have.

I nodded once and returned to my chair.

Opened the file again.

Read the same paragraph three times.

Didn't absorb a single word.

Across the room, I could hear her folding clothes into a suitcase.

Neatly.

Methodically.

Every sound reminded me the trip was real.

A week.

The room would be quieter.

Too quiet.

I disliked the thought immediately.

Ridiculous.

I'd lived alone for years.

Silence had never bothered me before.

Now...

it already sounded different.

"You'll be busy?" she asked suddenly.

I looked up.

"Hm?"

"Next week."

"Very."

She nodded slowly.

"That's good."

I wondered why she sounded disappointed.

Before I could think about it further, she zipped the suitcase closed.

"Done."

I watched her for a second.

Then said the only thing that felt appropriate.

"Take care of yourself."

She smiled.

A small one.

"I will."

"And don't skip meals."

One eyebrow lifted.

"You're starting to sound like Naina."

"I'm starting to sound practical."

That earned a quiet laugh.

"I'll eat."

"And sleep."

"I'll try."

I knew what I'll try usually meant.

It meant she'd work until two in the morning.

Survive on coffee.

Forget lunch.

Pretend she was fine.

I resisted the urge to argue.

Instead, I simply nodded.

"Good."

She walked over to place her passport beside the suitcase.

For a brief moment, we stood only a few feet apart.

Neither of us spoke.

There was nothing to say.

At least...

nothing either of us was willing to.

She thought this was a one-week business trip.

I was trying very hard not to think about how empty this room would feel without her in it.

And because I had no right to ask the questions I wanted to...

Who's going with you?

Will someone be looking after you?

Will you be alone in another city?

...I asked none of them.

Not because I wasn't curious.

Not because I didn't care.

But because trust wasn't measured by how many questions you asked.

Sometimes...

it was measured by the ones you chose to keep to yourself.

So I swallowed every unnecessary thought...

looked at her one last time before returning to my file...

and hoped she wouldn't notice that for the first time in months,

a seven-day business trip felt far longer than it actually was.

The silence didn't last long.

It rarely did anymore.

Aayat was sitting cross-legged on the bed now, laptop beside her, checking through the itinerary one last time.

She frowned at the screen.

"Three meetings on the first day."

"Hm."

"Two site visits."

Another absent-minded hum from me.

"And a dinner with investors."

That made me look up.

"You don't sound happy about it."

"I'm not."

"You accepted it."

"I know."

She sighed dramatically, closing the laptop with more force than necessary.

"Past Aayat makes commitments. Present Aayat suffers because of them."

A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

She immediately looked at me.

"You laughed."

"I did."

"I'll consider that emotional growth."

I shook my head.

"I wouldn't go that far."

She smiled to herself.

Then, as if another thought had just occurred to her, she looked at me thoughtfully.

"Your elections are in two months."

I nodded.

"They are."

She pointed a finger at me.

"So."

"So?"

"You have exactly sixty days."

I raised an eyebrow.

"To do what?"

She stared at me like I had asked the most ridiculous question imaginable.

"To win."

"I've been trying."

"No."

She waved a dismissive hand.

"You've been working."

A pause.

"Winning requires attitude."

I leaned back in my chair.

"I'm listening."

She stood up dramatically, walking into the middle of the room as though she were addressing a rally instead of one very confused man.

"Picture this."

I folded my arms.

"I'd rather not."

"You don't have a choice."

I sighed.

"Apparently."

She ignored the interruption.

"The results are announced."

She gestured toward an imaginary crowd.

"The entire state is waiting."

Her voice deepened theatrically.

"'And once again, the people have chosen...'"

She pointed straight at me.

"'Chief Minister Mihir Raghuvanshi!'"

I couldn't help smiling.

She wasn't finished.

"The crowd goes wild."

She clapped once herself.

"Reporters lose their minds."

Another gesture.

"Fireworks."

I blinked.

"There won't be fireworks."

"There are now."

"Aayat..."

"No interruptions."

She continued pacing.

"You walk onto the stage."

She straightened her shoulders, attempting to imitate my expression.

"Calm."

She pressed her lips together.

"Serious."

She frowned.

"'Thank you for placing your trust in me once again.'"

I was already losing the battle not to laugh.

"And then?"

She looked completely invested.

"Then you give one of those speeches you politicians love."

"I don't love speeches."

"You tolerate them professionally."

"That's more accurate."

She nodded.

"Exactly."

Then she folded her arms.

"So."

I waited.

"Go become Chief Minister again."

"...That's your motivational speech?"

"Yes."

"It's surprisingly demanding."

"It worked, didn't it?"

I smiled.

"I haven't won yet."

"You will."

There wasn't even a hint of hesitation.

Just certainty.

I studied her for a moment.

"You're very confident."

She shrugged.

"I've seen how you work."

A beat.

"You care."

Another.

"People notice that."

I looked away for a second.

Compliments had never sat comfortably with me.

"They also notice mistakes."

"They do."

"And?"

She smiled.

"Good leaders aren't people who never make mistakes."

She tilted her head.

"They're people others still trust after they make them."

The room grew quieter.

She said it so casually.

As if it were obvious.

As if trust were something simple.

I found myself laughing softly.

Not because what she'd said was funny.

Because of how unexpectedly earnest she'd become after turning my election into a theatrical campaign.

She looked offended.

"What?"

"You changed from campaign manager to philosopher very quickly."

"I have range."

"I can see that."

She grinned.

"You're welcome."

I shook my head, still smiling.

And then...

A thought appeared so suddenly that it caught me off guard.

Is this really the same woman?

The same Aayat Raghuvanshi whose name dominated business magazines.

The woman people described with words like cold.

Unapproachable.

Ruthless.

Arrogant.

The woman whose board meetings were apparently silent because everyone was too intimidated to speak unless invited.

The number one businesswoman in Asia.

The woman competitors feared and journalists struggled to interview.

I looked at the person standing barefoot in the middle of our bedroom, passionately inventing imaginary election victory speeches and insisting there would be fireworks despite government protocol.

She caught me staring.

"What?"

I smiled faintly.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"That 'nothing' definitely means something."

I shook my head.

"I was just thinking."

"Dangerous."

"For me?"

"For everyone."

That earned another quiet laugh.

No.

The world wasn't wrong.

Aayat probably was all of those things in a boardroom.

Sharp.

Demanding.

Impossible to intimidate.

But they only knew Aayat Raghuvanshi, the business icon.

They had never met the woman who argued about imaginary fireworks, complained about her past self scheduling too many meetings, smiled over cups of morning tea, and somehow managed to make a discussion about elections feel oddly... light.

Perhaps both versions were real.

The difference was simply this...

One belonged to the world.

The other...

She was only beginning to let a handful of people see.

She looked at me for a long moment before speaking.

"Aaj kal toh sarkaar waise bhi janta ki nahi sunti."

("These days, the government doesn't listen to the public anyway.")

The complaint was matter-of-fact.

Not loud.

Not emotional.

Just... a quiet observation.

I closed the file in my hands.

"That's a serious allegation."

"It is."

She adjusted the edge of her dupatta unconsciously.

"People keep saying things. Nothing changes."

I watched her.

"And you're saying this to the Chief Minister."

"I'm saying it to Mihir."

A small pause.

"The Chief Minister isn't here."

Something about that made me smile.

Just a little.

She noticed immediately.

"What?"

I leaned back against the chair.

"Sarkaar toh sirf aapki hi sunti hai."

( The government only listens to you. )

For a second...

she simply stared.

Then her brows drew together.

"What?"

"The government only listens to you."

"I don't understand."

"You complain."

"I listen."

"You refuse to eat."

"I send coffee."

"You don't sleep."

"I notice."

I held her gaze.

"The evidence is fairly convincing."

She blinked.

Then, before I could react...

Thap.

A light slap landed against my upper arm.

Not hard.

Barely enough to make a sound.

More a protest than a hit.

I looked down at my sleeve.

Then back at her.

"You hit the Chief Minister."

She didn't look guilty.

She looked unconvinced.

"You're possessed."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The real Mihir doesn't say things like that."

I raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

She shook her head once.

"The real Mihir speaks in complete files."

Despite myself...

a laugh escaped.

Short.

Quiet.

Unexpected.

She looked at me as though I'd confirmed her theory.

"There."

"I knew it."

"What?"

"You're definitely possessed."

I folded my arms.

"And who has possessed me?"

She met my eyes with perfect seriousness.

"I don't know."

A pause.

"But whoever it is..."

"...return him before the elections."

For a second...

I laughed again.

This time she looked away almost immediately, as if she'd said more than she'd intended.

The room fell quiet.

Neither of us spoke.

But for the first time...

the silence didn't feel heavy.

It felt... shared.

"Enough for today," Aayat said quietly.

I looked up from the file in my hand.

"What?"

"Sleep."

The way she said it wasn't a suggestion.

It was a conclusion.

I glanced at the clock.

"You're ordering the Chief Minister now?"

Her expression didn't change.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Because apparently someone has to."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

But I closed the file instead.

"Fine."

She looked slightly surprised that I agreed so easily.

Then she turned away, walking toward the bed.

Neither of us said anything after that.

The lights went off.

The room fell silent.

The kind of silence we had always shared.

Except...

somewhere along the way, it had started feeling different.

Not empty.

Just quiet.

Time passed.

The city outside slowly disappeared into the night.

And yet, sleep didn't come.

I stared at the ceiling, completely awake.

Tomorrow she would leave.

Manhattan.

A week.

Seven days.

It shouldn't matter.

That was the arrangement.

Four months left.

A contract.

Separate lives.

Separate choices.

There was no reason for it to bother me.

And still...

my mind kept returning to one simple thought.

Seven days.

Seven days of not hearing her voice in the morning.

Seven days of not watching her quietly judge everyone around her.

Seven days of this room feeling exactly the same...

and somehow different.

I frowned slightly at my own thoughts.

Ridiculous.

I turned my head.

And stopped.

Aayat was asleep.

Completely unaware.

One of her hands had moved closer during the night.

Her fingers were wrapped around my pinky.

Not tightly.

Almost like she had reached for something without realizing.

For a moment, I just looked at it.

And then...

I smiled.

A small one.

The kind I wouldn't allow anyone else to see.

I wasn't supposed to smile.

Not because of this.

Not because of her.

I wasn't supposed to notice these things.

I wasn't supposed to care if she was leaving for a week.

I wasn't supposed to feel the absence of someone who was never supposed to become a presence.

But there I was.

Awake at midnight.

Looking at her hand holding mine.

And thinking about seven days without it.

Without her.

I looked away immediately, almost annoyed at myself.

This was unnecessary.

She was my wife because of a contract.

Temporary.

A situation.

Nothing more.

That was the truth.

The only truth that mattered.

Except...

my fingers didn't move away.

I let her hold on.

Just for tonight.

Because tomorrow she would leave.

And for reasons I didn't want to understand...

the thought felt heavier than it should have.

Morning arrived too quickly.

I had barely slept.

Not because of work.

Not because of the upcoming meetings.

Because my mind had been stuck on a thought I refused to acknowledge.

Seven days.

I walked into the dining area and found Aayat already sitting there.

Of course she was.

Perfectly composed.

Like she hadn't spent the entire night unknowingly holding onto my hand.

Like she hadn't made leaving today feel like something I had to think about.

She was looking through something on her phone while having breakfast.

I sat across from her.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then she suddenly looked up.

"There's no online food delivery there."

I paused.

"There?"

"Manhattan."

She said it like this was a serious crisis.

"I checked."

I looked at her.

"And?"

"I hate it."

The seriousness on her face almost made me smile.

Almost.

"You hate the city because there is no food delivery app?"

"No."

A pause.

"I hate the inconvenience."

Of course.

Aayat Raghuvanshi would never admit she was talking about missing comfort.

She would call it inconvenience.

I took a sip of tea.

"Toh main chalun aapke saath?"

(So, shall I come along with you?)

She looked up.

I continued calmly.

"Aapka personal chef bankar."

(By becoming your personal chef.)

For a second...

she just stared at me.

The same expression she gave during business meetings when someone said something completely unreasonable.

A professional evaluation.

A full analysis.

Then she placed her cup down.

"You're really possessed."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Again?"

"Yes."

She looked genuinely concerned.

"I don't understand how you run a state."

A pause.

"How people choose you as a Chief Minister..."

She shook her head slightly.

"Very questionable."

I looked at her.

"Very good."

She continued eating as if she hadn't just insulted the person sitting across from her.

I leaned back.

"For your kind information, Mrs. Raghuvanshi..."

Her eyes lifted at the name.

"...you were the one noticing yesterday how good I am as a Chief Minister."

She immediately looked away.

"I was not."

"You were."

"I was making an observation."

"Exactly."

A faint smile appeared.

"You admitted it."

"I did not."

"You said I understand people."

"That doesn't mean..."

"You said I should win the elections."

She stopped.

Only for a second.

But I noticed.

Because I always noticed.

"It was different."

"Different how?"

She looked back at me, completely serious.

"It was because..."

A pause.

She searched for an answer.

"...because you were doing your job."

I nodded slowly.

"So?"

"So nothing."

"You were impressed."

"I was not."

"You were."

"I was analyzing."

"That sounds like a businesswoman's way of admitting she was impressed."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't change my words."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"No."

"Yes."

The silence lasted for a moment.

Then, unexpectedly...

the corner of her lips moved.

Barely.

But enough.

I noticed.

Of course I did.

She immediately picked up her cup to hide it.

I looked away before she could catch me watching.

Because somehow...

this was becoming a habit.

Noticing.

Her expressions.

Her silence.

Her little reactions.

Things I was never supposed to pay attention to.

And yet...

I did.

After breakfast, the day returned to what it was supposed to be.

Work.

Aayat left for her office first.

"See you."

And somehow...

even that stayed in my mind longer than it should have.

I left a little later for the Secretariat.

The moment I stepped inside, everything changed.

Files.

Meetings.

Reports.

The responsibilities that came with the chair.

The same responsibilities I had carried for years.

I entered my office and placed my folder on the desk.

The first file waiting for me was already marked urgent.

Case 1: Rural Water Supply Project

Several villages had reported delays in receiving clean water connections despite the project being approved months ago.

The issue wasn't funding.

It was coordination between departments.

I called the officials responsible and instructed them to submit a revised timeline within forty-eight hours.

"No more delays," I said calmly.

"People don't need another promise. They need results."

⸻

Case 2: Government Hospital Staff Shortage

A report showed multiple district hospitals were functioning with fewer doctors and nurses than required.

The health department had been repeatedly sending requests, but recruitment approvals were stuck.

I reviewed the numbers and cleared the proposal for immediate action in critical areas.

Healthcare couldn't wait for paperwork to move at its own speed.

⸻

Case 3: Farmers' Compensation Dispute

A group of farmers had complained about delayed compensation after crop losses caused by unexpected weather conditions.

The department claimed the verification process was ongoing.

I asked for the pending cases to be reviewed personally.

"Verification is important," I said.

"But so is remembering that behind every file there is a family waiting."

⸻

Case 4: Education Infrastructure Review

Several government schools required basic repairs before the upcoming academic session.

The report had been sitting for weeks.

I signed the approval and instructed the department to prioritize schools in rural areas first.

⸻

By afternoon, the stack of files had reduced.

Not completely.

It never did.

There was always another issue.

Another person waiting.

Another responsibility.

I leaned back in my chair for a moment.

The office was quiet.

My eyes briefly moved toward my phone.

No messages.

I looked away immediately.

There was no reason to check.

She was at work.

I was at work.

That was how it had always been.

Separate schedules.

Separate priorities.

And yet...

somewhere between yesterday and today...

I had started expecting her presence.

I picked up the next file.

Work first.

Always.

At least that was what I told myself.

***

By 4 PM, most of the urgent files had been cleared.

I should have stayed in my office.

There were still meetings.

Still reports.

Still things waiting for my approval.

But somehow...

I found myself standing outside Aayat's office.

I didn't have a reason.

At least not one I wanted to admit.

I told myself it was practical.

The airport route.

The timing.

The fact that she was leaving for a week.

All reasonable explanations.

None of them convincing enough.

I entered her office after informing her assistant.

She was exactly how I expected.

Sitting behind her desk.

Laptop open.

Files arranged perfectly.

Already preparing for a trip that would take her away from here.

From this house.

From...

I stopped that thought.

She looked up.

"Mihir?"

I nodded.

"Ready?"

Her eyes moved briefly toward the clock.

"Yes."

A pause.

Then she closed her laptop.

"I can go by myself."

Simple.

Direct.

Aayat.

I looked at her.

"I know."

She seemed slightly surprised by how quickly I agreed.

"Then?"

"I'll drop you."

Her expression changed slightly.

Not much.

Just enough.

"You don't need to."

"I know."

Another pause.

"I can manage."

"I know that too."

She studied me for a moment.

The same way she studied business decisions.

Looking for the hidden reason.

There wasn't one.

At least not one I could explain.

Finally, she said,

"Mihir..."

I interrupted gently.

"I insist."

Silence.

She looked at me.

And maybe because she knew me well enough now...

she realized I wasn't saying it as an obligation.

Not as a husband fulfilling some duty.

Just...

a choice.

Her expression softened for the smallest second.

Then she looked away.

"Fine."

I nodded.

"Fine."

She gathered her things.

And I stood there waiting.

Quietly.

Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But inside...

I was asking myself the same question again.

Why did I come?

Why did I insist?

She could go alone.

She had done everything alone for years.

She was capable.

Strong.

Independent.

The Asia's number one businesswoman who intimidated entire rooms with one look.

The woman everyone described as cold and impossible to approach.

And yet...

I had come to drop her to the airport.

Because the thought of her leaving without seeing her one last time before a week away...

felt wrong.

I looked away before she could notice.

I didn't know when it happened.

When a person who was supposed to be temporary...

started feeling like someone whose absence I would notice.

The airport was crowded.

People rushing past us.

Announcements filling the air.

Everyone moving toward somewhere.

And somehow, I only noticed the fact that she was leaving.

Aayat stood in front of me with her passport and documents in hand.

"I'll call if anything urgent comes up."

I nodded.

"Okay."

A pause.

She looked at me.

"Take care of yourself."

The words were simple.

But coming from her...

they meant more.

I wanted to say something.

Something normal.

Something appropriate.

But before I could think...

I moved.

And I hugged her.

For a second, even I didn't understand why.

It wasn't planned.

It wasn't a decision.

It just happened.

My arms around her.

Her completely still.

I realized what I had done a moment later.

This wasn't our first hug but still.

This was just us.

And maybe that was why it felt different.

I immediately stepped back.

Aayat didn't say anything.

She didn't react.

She just stood there.

Frozen.

Her expression unreadable.

Like her mind was still trying to process what had happened.

I looked at her.

"Aayat..."

Nothing.

Then slowly, she blinked.

Once.

Her eyes moved away.

And just like that, she picked up her bag.

"Bye."

That was it.

No question.

No comment.

No teasing.

Just one word.

She turned around and walked toward the security gate.

I stood there.

Watching her disappear into the crowd.

I had expected her to say something.

Anything.

A complaint.

A remark.

A sarcastic comment about my behavior.

But she didn't.

And somehow...

that affected me more.

I stayed there until I couldn't see her anymore.

Until the crowd swallowed her completely.

Only then did I look away.

I exhaled slowly.

What was I doing?

She was my wife because of a contract.

Four months.

A temporary arrangement.

Yet here I was...

standing in an airport after watching her leave, feeling like something had shifted.

I told myself it was concern.

Responsibility.

Habit.

Anything except the truth.

Because the truth was far more inconvenient.

I was going to miss her.

And I wasn't supposed to.

Twenty-three hours.

That's how long it had been since she left.

I hadn't counted.

At least, that's what I told myself.

But somehow, I knew.

The house had returned to its usual silence.

The same rooms.

The same schedule.

The same responsibilities.

Everything was exactly the same.

Except it wasn't.

My phone rang late in the evening.

The moment I saw her name on the screen, my hand moved before I could think.

I answered.

"Aayat."

A small pause.

Then her voice.

"I reached."

Two words.

Simple.

But something inside me eased.

"Safely?"

The question came immediately.

I didn't even realize how quickly I had asked.

A pause.

"Yes."

"Was everything fine?"

Another pause.

"Yes, Mihir."

I leaned back in my chair.

"Are you alright?"

Silence.

Not long.

Just enough for me to realize I had asked something beyond a normal check.

A temporary partner wouldn't ask that.

A person fulfilling a contract wouldn't ask that.

But I had.

Finally, she answered.

"I'm fine."

Her voice was calm.

Controlled.

The same Aayat.

But I could hear the tiredness underneath.

"Long flight?"

"A little."

"You ate?"

The moment the question left my mouth, I stopped.

Why did I ask that?

Aayat was quiet for a second.

Then...

"You're asking?"

I frowned slightly.

"What?"

"You asked if I ate."

I looked away.

"It was a normal question."

"Hmm."

That sound.

That small doubtful sound.

I knew it already.

"You don't believe me."

"No."

I almost smiled.

"Why?"

"Because you don't usually ask normal questions."

Fair.

I didn't have an answer for that.

So I changed the subject.

"How is the hotel?"

"Fine."

"The project?"

"Tomorrow is the first meeting."

I nodded even though she couldn't see.

"Good."

Another silence.

Usually, silence with Aayat was comfortable.

But this one...

felt like both of us were aware of something we weren't saying.

Finally, she spoke.

"You reached home?"

"Yes."

"Work?"

"Done."

A pause.

Then quietly,

"Good."

One word.

But I noticed it.

Of course I did.

I looked at the empty room around me.

And for the first time in twenty-three hours...

the house didn't feel quite as empty.

Because she was on the other end of the call.

And somehow...

that was enough.

Morning came...

The meeting room slowly emptied.

One by one, the officials gathered their files and left.

The discussions about the state budget, upcoming reforms, and security updates were finally over.

Only three people remained.

Me.

Zyraan.

And Kushagra.

The silence after everyone left was different.

Heavier.

Kushagra  leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his face.

"So..."

I looked up from the files in front of me.

"How is your temporary marriage going?"

My expression didn't change.

"None of your business."

The answer came calmly.

Too calmly.

Zyraan glanced at me but said nothing.

Kushagra gave a small laugh.

"Still so defensive."

I continued reading the documents.

"I answered your question."

He ignored the warning.

"I just find it interesting."

A pause.

"The great Mihir Malhotra, who never let anyone get close enough to understand him..."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"...is suddenly married."

I closed the file.

Slowly.

"Kushagra."

The way I said his name should have been enough.

It wasn't.

"And to someone like her."

I looked at him.

"Careful."

He smiled.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

Silence.

"Asia's number one businesswoman. The woman everyone knows as ruthless, arrogant, impossible to work with and what not more."

His smile grew slightly.

"Funny, isn't it? That someone like you ended up with someone like her."

My jaw tightened.

But I didn't respond.

Because I knew him.

He wasn't interested in conversation.

He was looking for a reaction.

And I refused to give him one.

But then...

"Although..."

He leaned forward.

"I wonder how long she'll last."

The room went still.

Zyraan's expression changed immediately.

Kushagra continued.

"Politics isn't a boardroom, Mihir."

A pause.

"People like her are used to controlling everything."

His voice turned sharper.

"Maybe she'll realize soon that she can't control a husband the way she controls companies."

That was enough.

My chair moved back.

The sound cut through the room.

"Kushagra."

My voice was no longer calm.

He looked at me.

"You don't know anything about her."

A brief silence.

"You don't know what she's capable of."

My eyes hardened.

"You don't know what she has built."

I stepped closer.

"And you definitely don't get to reduce her to your assumptions."

Kushagra raised his eyebrows.

"There it is."

I stared at him.

"The reaction."

I didn't answer.

Because the truth was...

I didn't even know why his words bothered me so much.

This was supposed to be a contract.

A temporary arrangement.

Four months left.

Nothing more.

So why did hearing someone speak about her like that feel personal?

Why did the thought of anyone disrespecting her make my patience disappear?

Zyraan watched quietly.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

Kushagra smiled faintly.

"You sound very protective for a temporary husband."

The room became silent.

I looked at him.

Cold.

Steady.

"Don't confuse my silence with permission."

My voice lowered.

"You can question my decisions."

A pause.

"You can challenge my politics."

Another.

"But you will not speak about her like you know her."

Kushagra studied me for a moment.

Then smiled slightly.

"Interesting."

I picked up my file.

"Meeting is over."

He didn't move immediately.

Neither did I.

Then Zyraan finally spoke.

"Kushagra."

His tone was lighter.

But the warning underneath was clear.

"Find a new hobby."

Kushagra laughed softly and stood.

"Touchy subject, apparently."

I didn't reply.

I didn't need to.

He walked out.

The door closed behind him.

For a few seconds, neither Zyraan nor I spoke.

Then Zyraan looked at me.

"You know..."

I ignored him.

"Don't."

He smiled slightly.

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were about to."

"Probably."

I gathered my files.

But somewhere in my mind, one thought remained.

Aayat.

The same woman who stood in meetings and made entire rooms go silent.

The same woman people called arrogant.

The same woman who never needed anyone to defend her.

And yet...

I had just done exactly that.

Without thinking.

Without planning.

Without remembering that this was only a contract.

Only temporary.

I looked away.

Temporary.

I repeated the word in my head.

But somehow...

it didn't feel as simple as it used to.

Zyraan waited until the door closed behind Kushagra.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then...

"Why are you behaving like this, Mihir?"

I looked at him.

"What?"

Zyraan leaned back slightly, studying me.

"That much anger?"

His voice wasn't mocking this time.

Just curious.

"Calm down."

I looked away, picking up the files again.

"I'm calm."

Zyraan almost laughed.

"No, you're not."

I ignored him.

But he continued.

"You know what was interesting?"

I didn't answer.

"You didn't get angry when he questioned your decisions."

Silence.

"You didn't get angry when he attacked your politics."

A pause.

"But the second he spoke about her..."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You lost control."

My fingers tightened around the file.

I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Zyraan."

"No, seriously."

He leaned forward.

"What happened to the man who doesn't care what anyone says?"

I stayed quiet.

Because I didn't have an answer.

Because the answer itself was something I didn't want to admit.

Zyraan smiled faintly.

"How could he say something like that about my wife?"

The words escaped before I could stop them.

The room went silent.

My own voice echoed in my head.

My wife.

Interesting.

Zyraan's eyebrows lifted immediately.

"There it is."

I looked at him.

"What?"

He smiled.

"Nothing."

I knew that expression.

He was enjoying this.

"Don't start."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was just appreciating the moment."

I gave him a warning look.

But he didn't stop.

"Your wife."

A pause.

"That's interesting coming from you."

I looked away.

"She's my wife."

"Contract wife."

The words hit differently.

Because they were true.

I hated that they were true.

Zyraan watched my expression carefully.

"Temporary marriage, right?"

I didn't respond.

"Four months left."

Still silence.

"So why did you look like you wanted to destroy someone when he insulted her?"

My jaw tightened.

"Enough, Zyraan."

"No."

His voice became serious.

"You keep pretending this is just an arrangement."

A pause.

"But your actions keep disagreeing with you."

I looked at him.

He didn't back away.

"You notice when she's tired."

Silence.

"You remember small things about her."

Another pause.

"You worry when she leaves."

My expression hardened.

"Stop."

"Why?"

His voice softened.

"Because you're scared of saying it?"

I looked away.

The room felt smaller.

Because maybe he was right.

Maybe the problem wasn't Kusagra.

Maybe the problem was me.

Because somewhere between the arguments...

the coffee...

the quiet conversations...

the way she held onto my finger in her sleep without realizing...

something had changed.

Something I had refused to name.

Zyraan watched me for another second.

Then he said quietly,

"Say it, Mihir."

I frowned.

"Say what?"

He smiled slightly.

"The truth."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Mihir."

"No."

But the word didn't have the same strength anymore.

Because the truth had been sitting there for days.

Waiting.

And maybe I was tired of pretending.

I ran a hand over my face.

Then finally...

I said it.

Quietly at first.

"Damn it."

Zyraan didn't move.

I looked down.

Then the words came out.

Not controlled.

Not calculated.

Just honest.

"Damn it."

A breath.

"I.FUCKING.LOVE.HER."

Silence.

Complete silence.

For the first time...

I didn't try to take the words back.

Zyraan just stared at me.

Then slowly...

a smile appeared on his face.

"Wow."

I looked at him.

"Don't."

He raised his hands.

"I'm not saying anything."

"You are thinking it."

"Definitely."

I sighed.

But somewhere inside...

something felt lighter.

Because the truth was no longer trapped inside me.

Aayat was still in Manhattan.

Miles away.

Unaware.

And yet...

she had somehow become the one person who could make me lose control without even being here.

And that scared me.

Because Mihir Raghuvanshi didn't lose control.

He didn't need anyone.

He didn't depend on anyone.

But Aayat...

Aayat had walked into my life like a storm.

And somehow...

I had started calling the storm home.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The words were out.

The truth I had spent weeks refusing to even acknowledge.

Zyraan didn't tease me.

Didn't smile.

Didn't say I told you so.

And somehow...

that made it harder.

Because he understood.

I don't know when it happened.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe it was finally admitting something I had been fighting for too long.

But suddenly, the weight of everything felt too much.

I stood up.

And before I could think about it...

I pulled him into a hug.

Zyraan froze.

Not because he didn't want it.

Because he had never seen me like this.

Mihir Raghuvanshi .

The man who stood in front of crowds without fear.

The man who handled crises without showing a crack.

The man who never let anyone see him break.

Holding onto his best friend like he was trying to hold himself together.

For a few seconds, I said nothing.

Then my voice came out quieter than I expected.

"Zyraan..."

A pause.

"I'm scared."

His expression softened.

"Scared of what?"

My grip tightened slightly.

"Of losing her."

The words hurt more when spoken aloud.

"I know I shouldn't be."

A shaky breath left me.

"I shouldn't be because..."

I swallowed.

"Only four months are left."

Silence.

"Four months, and then she'll leave."

My voice dropped.

"The divorce."

The word felt heavier than it should have.

"She'll walk away."

I closed my eyes.

"And I don't want her to."

Zyraan didn't interrupt.

He just listened.

"I miss her."

The confession came quietly.

"I miss her when she's not around."

A small laugh escaped me, but there was no humor in it.

"Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?"

I pulled back slightly, looking away.

"I used to think I needed silence."

"I thought I was better alone."

A pause.

"But now..."

My voice softened.

"I don't care if she's rude."

A faint smile appeared despite everything.

"I don't care if she argues with me."

Another breath.

"I don't care if the whole world calls her arrogant."

My eyes lowered.

"I can live with all of that."

A pause.

"But I can't live without her, Zyraan."

The room was silent.

Because even saying it sounded impossible.

Me.

Needing someone.

Wanting someone to stay.

"I know she doesn't love me."

The words hurt, but I said them anyway.

"And she doesn't have to."

I looked at him.

"I don't want to force her."

A pause.

"I don't want her to stay because of guilt."

My voice became softer.

"But maybe..."

I hesitated.

"Maybe my love can be enough."

Zyraan's expression changed.

"I know I can't make her feel something she doesn't."

I looked down.

"But maybe if I love her enough..."

A breath.

"Maybe I can fill the empty spaces."

"Maybe I can show her that staying doesn't always mean losing herself."

For a moment, Zyraan just looked at me.

Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Mihir."

I looked at him.

"You know what scares me?"

I frowned slightly.

He smiled sadly.

"That you actually mean every word."

I stayed quiet.

Because I did.

Every single word.

Zyraan shook his head lightly.

"The man who said marriage was just a responsibility..."

A pause.

"Is standing here afraid because his wife might leave."

I looked away.

He didn't mock me.

He didn't make it smaller.

He just said softly,

"You really love her."

A tear slipped before I could stop it.

I immediately looked away.

But Zyraan noticed.

Of course he did.

And for once...

he didn't comment.

He just stood there.

Because sometimes the person who knows you best doesn't need an explanation.

They already understand.

And somewhere between a contract, four months, and a promise that was never supposed to become real...

I had fallen for the one person I was supposed to let go of.

Zyraan stayed quiet.

For once, he didn't have a sarcastic reply.

Didn't make a joke.

Didn't try to lighten the moment.

He just looked at me.

And maybe that scared me more.

Because Zyraan knew me.

He knew when I was pretending.

He knew when I was hiding something.

And right now...

there was nothing left to hide.

I wiped my face quickly, looking away.

"Don't."

His eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"Mihir..."

"Don't tell her."

My voice came out immediately.

Almost desperate.

I looked back at him.

"Please."

The word felt strange coming from me.

I didn't ask people for things.

Not like this.

But this wasn't about pride anymore.

It was about her.

"Please, Zyraan."

A pause.

"Don't tell Aayat."

He watched me silently.

"I don't want her to know."

"Why?"

The question was quiet.

I looked down.

"Because..."

I struggled to explain something that didn't even make sense in my own head.

"Because she didn't ask for this."

A pause.

"She didn't ask me to fall in love with her."

My voice lowered.

"And she doesn't owe me anything because I did."

Zyraan's expression softened.

"I don't want her to feel pressured."

I took a breath.

"I don't want her to look at me differently because she knows."

Another pause.

"I don't want her staying because she feels guilty."

The thought alone hurt.

"I want her to choose."

I looked at him.

"Even if that choice isn't me."

The room went silent.

Zyraan stared at me for a long moment.

Then he sighed softly.

"You really are gone, aren't you?"

I gave him a tired look.

"Zyraan."

"No, I'm serious."

He shook his head slightly.

"The same Mihir Raghuvanshi who never cared what anyone thought..."

A pause.

"Is worried about making a woman uncomfortable because he loves her."

I didn't answer.

Because there was nothing to say.

Zyraan looked away for a moment.

Then back at me.

"Fine."

I looked at him.

"Fine?"

He nodded.

"I won't tell her."

The tension in my chest eased slightly.

"But..."

I waited.

His eyes narrowed a little.

"You can't keep running from it forever."

I looked away.

"I know."

"No, you don't."

His voice softened.

"You're hoping that if you love her quietly enough, it won't hurt."

A pause.

"But love doesn't work like that."

I stayed silent.

Zyraan placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Still..."

He gave a small smile.

"Her secret is safe with me."

I exhaled.

"Thank you."

He looked almost offended.

"Don't thank me."

"Why?"

"Because now I have to watch you act normal around her while knowing you are completely finished."

Despite everything...

a small laugh escaped me.

Zyraan smiled.

"There he is."

I shook my head.

But the heaviness was still there.

Because Aayat was still away.

And I still had no idea what would happen when she came back.

Four months.

A contract.

A divorce waiting at the end.

And a heart that had already forgotten the agreement.

The room slowly returned to normal.

At least, it looked like it did.

Zyraan didn't mention anything again.

He didn't have to.

The understanding between us sat quietly in the room.

I gathered the files from the table, trying to return to the version of myself everyone knew.

The calm one.

The controlled one.

The one who didn't let emotions interfere.

But now...

I knew that version was incomplete.

Because somewhere in Manhattan, Aayat was going through her day.

And I wanted to know if she was okay.

The thought came naturally.

Too naturally.

I picked up my phone.

Zyraan noticed.

"Calling her?"

I ignored him.

But he smiled slightly.

"Five minutes ago you were asking me not to tell her you love her."

I looked at him.

"Zyraan."

"Now you're calling to ask if she ate."

I gave him a warning look.

He raised his hands.

"I'm silent."

I walked away before he could say anything else.

The call connected after a few rings.

For a moment, I wondered if she would pick up.

Then...

"Aayat."

Her voice came through.

And something inside me immediately settled.

"Hi."

There was a small pause.

"Mihir?"

Just hearing her say my name felt different.

I sat down at my desk.

"How was your meeting?"

A pause.

"Good."

Of course.

Short.

Simple.

Very Aayat.

I almost smiled.

"Just good?"

A small silence.

"It went well."

I leaned back.

"That's better."

Another pause.

Then I asked,

"Did you eat?"

Silence.

A longer one this time.

I already knew the answer.

"Aayat."

"What?"

Her tone was slightly defensive.

"Did you eat?"

"I was busy."

I closed my eyes briefly.

There it was.

The answer.

"You didn't."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

A small pause.

I could imagine her expression.

The slight irritation.

The look she gave when someone pointed out something she didn't want to admit.

"I'll eat later."

"No."

The word came out before I thought.

Silence.

I softened my voice.

"Please eat now."

Another pause.

"You sound like you're giving an order."

"I am."

A beat.

Then I added,

"Consider it a Chief Minister's request."

There was a quiet moment.

And then...

I heard it.

A small breath.

Almost a laugh.

Almost.

"You are impossible."

I smiled before I could stop myself.

"I've heard that before."

The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable.

It was different.

Softer.

I looked at the files on my desk.

The state.

The responsibilities.

Everything I had always considered important.

And yet...

my attention was somewhere else.

"How's the hotel?"

"Fine."

"Sleeping properly?"

"Mihir."

"What?"

A pause.

"You sound like you're checking on a child."

"No."

I looked away.

"I'm checking on my wife."

The words slipped out.

A small silence followed.

Not awkward.

Just noticeable.

I immediately regretted saying it.

But Aayat didn't comment.

After a few seconds, she simply said,

"I'll eat."

And somehow...

that was enough.

"Good."

Another pause.

"Your meeting?"

I looked surprised.

"What?"

"How was your meeting?"

The fact that she asked made something warm settle in my chest.

"It was fine."

"Only fine?"

I smiled faintly.

"Better than fine."

A small pause.

"Good."

And that one word from her felt strangely satisfying.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds.

Neither of us rushing to end the call.

Then she spoke.

"I have another meeting."

"I know."

"You know?"

"You always do."

A pause.

Then quieter,

"Take care of yourself, Aayat."

Silence.

I wasn't sure if she heard the difference in my voice.

I hoped she didn't.

Because I wasn't ready for her to know.

Not yet.

"Goodnight, Mihir."

"It's not night there."

A pause.

"I know."

A tiny hint of amusement.

"Still."

I smiled.

"Okay."

The call ended.

I looked at the blank screen for a long moment.

Then I placed the phone down.

Zyraan, who had been standing near the door, looked at me.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't need to.

Because he had heard enough.

I had spent years believing love was a weakness.

A distraction.

Something that made people lose control.

But now...

one phone call asking if someone had eaten had managed to calm a storm inside me.

And that terrified me.

Because Aayat was still far away.

The divorce was still waiting.

The contract was still real.

But for the first time...

I wasn't thinking about the ending.

I was just grateful she had answered.

The house felt different when I returned.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually, silence was something I preferred.

Something I had built my entire life around.

But tonight...

it felt like something was missing.

I walked upstairs, loosened my tie, and entered our room.

And then I stopped.

For a second, I didn't move.

Because it wasn't just the room.

It was the memory of her being in it.

A faint scent lingered in the air.

Her perfume.

Soft.

Familiar.

Aayat.

I closed the door behind me slowly.

And for some reason, that small thing affected me more than it should have.

I had seen her leave.

I had dropped her at the airport.

I had watched her walk away.

But standing here...

in a room that still carried traces of her presence...

made the distance feel real.

My eyes moved around.

Her side of the room.

The chair where she usually placed her files.

The space near the mirror where she stood getting ready.

The small details I had never noticed before.

Or maybe...

I had noticed them.

I just refused to admit it.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

A small breath escaped me.

"This is ridiculous."

I said it quietly to myself.

A few months ago, I wouldn't have understood this version of me.

The man who missed someone's presence.

The man who noticed a perfume.

The man who called just to ask if she had eaten.

But now...

I did.

My fingers brushed over the empty space beside me.

And immediately, I pulled my hand back.

Because that felt too much like accepting it.

Too much like admitting how much she had become a part of my life.

My phone lit up.

For a second, my heart reacted before my mind did.

A message.

Not her.

I looked away.

A small, tired smile appeared.

"You're really gone, Mihir."

The words sounded strange coming from me.

Because I had spent my whole life being certain.

Certain about decisions.

Certain about people.

Certain about what I wanted.

But Aayat...

Aayat had changed the one thing I thought could never change.

Me.

I leaned back against the bed.

The room still smelled like her.

And for the first time...

I understood something I had never allowed myself to feel.

Missing someone wasn't weakness.

Wanting someone to come back wasn't losing control.

Sometimes...

it was just proof that someone had quietly become home.

The thought hadn't even settled when my phone rang.

The screen lit up.

And for a second...

I just stared.

My Witch🧚‍♀️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1. Did you expect Mihir to finally admit, "Damn it... I love her"?

2. How many times did you scream "JUST TELL HER!" while reading?

3. Prediction time: Will Manhattan bring them closer or create more distance?

4. Who is going to suffer more when the divorce date gets closer?

5. Team 'Confess Now' or Team 'Slow Burn'?

Tell me how was the chapter?

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