The silence of the room stretched, suffocating and heavy.
Aarush remained seated on the bed, staring at the ceiling, while the golden glow of the night lamp cast long shadows across the room. His fingers still clenched the sheets, his mind caught in the storm of memories, pain, and rage.
But beneath all of that, there was something else. A whisper of guilt.
It wasn't because he had made Sanya sleep on the floor. No.
It was because, for a brief, fleeting moment, he had felt something other than hatred when he saw her trembling form curled up like a wounded bird.
And that was dangerous.
With an irritated sigh, he reached for his whiskey again, pouring himself another drink. He didn't need emotions clouding his judgment. Not now. Not ever.
But the moment the ice cubes clinked against the glass, a soft sound caught his attention.
A whimper.
Aarush's gaze flickered toward the floor, his grip tightening on the glass.
Sanya was shivering.
Even in the dim light, he could see how she had pulled her dupatta tightly around her, trying to keep the cold at bay. But it was useless. The marble floor was unforgiving, stealing the warmth from her body, and her already exhausted state wasn't helping.
His jaw tensed.
Why did he care?
Why was his chest tightening at the sight of her like this?
This was exactly what she deserved.
And yet, that soft, involuntary sound of distress clawed at him, an unwanted reminder of a past where he had once promised to protect her.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath.
Shoving the glass onto the table, he rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. He walked over to the balcony, letting the cool night air hit his face. Maybe he needed the distance, needed to clear his head.
But even as he stood there, staring at the dark sky, his mind refused to let go of the girl lying on the floor behind him.
---
Sanya barely felt conscious anymore.
Her body ached. The floor was too cold, too hard, seeping into her bones like an unbearable weight. She had thought she could endure it, had thought she could suppress the trembling, but her body was betraying her.
She bit her lip, forcing herself not to make a sound.
She wouldn't give Aarush the satisfaction of seeing her weak.
Not after everything.
But the night stretched endlessly, and exhaustion clawed at her. Her eyelids fluttered shut against her will, and in her half-conscious state, the past came rushing back.
A memory.
Of warmth.
Of safety.
"Sanya, what are you doing up here?"
A teenage Aarush had stood before her, his brows furrowed in concern as she sat curled up on the terrace of his family's mansion. She had been crying, her arms wrapped around her knees.
"It's nothing," she had whispered, trying to hide her tears.
But Aarush had seen through her. He always did.
Without a word, he had taken off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then, he had sat beside her, letting the silence stretch.
"I don't know what's wrong," he had said after a while. "But whatever it is, you're not alone, okay?"
That night, she had fallen asleep leaning against him, her small fingers clutching the fabric of his sleeve.
Because back then, he had been her safe place.
---
A sharp noise jolted Sanya back to the present.
Her eyes fluttered open, her heart pounding against her ribs. The warmth she had felt in her dreams was gone, replaced by the suffocating reality of the cold, hard floor.
Aarush was still on the balcony, his broad silhouette framed against the city lights.
She forced herself to sit up, her body aching in protest. She needed to be stronger.
She couldn't afford to break.
Slowly, she turned to look at him, the once-familiar face now unreadable.
"You hate me," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But do you ever wonder what I lost that night too?"
Aarush stiffened but didn't turn.
"I lost a mother, Aarush. I lost a childhood. I lost… you."
The words hung in the air between them, raw and painful.
Aarush let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You lost me?" He finally turned, his dark eyes burning. "Sanya, you never lost anything. You were protected. You were kept safe while I—"
His voice cracked for a fraction of a second before he clenched his jaw.
"You have no idea what loss feels like," he spat. "You got to live."
"Living isn't the same as surviving," she whispered.
Aarush's fingers twitched at his sides, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
For a moment, just a moment, something in his gaze softened.
But then, as if realizing it, he took a step back, shaking his head.
"You don't get to play the victim, Sanya." His voice was cold again, distant. "Not when your blood is stained with my family's ruin."
Sanya swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of tears.
There was no use.
Aarush had already decided she was guilty.
And no matter what she said, no matter how much she tried to make him see the truth—
He would never believe her.
He would never forgive her.
With a quiet nod, she turned away, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she lay back down on the cold floor.
Aarush remained standing, watching her for a long time.
His fists clenched, his heart warring with emotions he didn't want to feel.
But in the end, he did nothing.
Because hate was easier.
Because if he let himself feel anything else—
He wasn't sure he would survive it.
The room was silent, but it was the kind of silence that pressed against Sanya's chest, making it hard to breathe. The only sound was the faint rustling of the sheets as Aarush shifted on the bed, his back still turned to her. The distance between them was more than just the space of a few feet—it was an unbridgeable chasm filled with hatred, resentment, and unanswered questions.
Sanya curled up tighter, her body aching from the hardness of the marble floor. The embroidery of her heavy lehenga pricked against her skin, but she didn't move. She didn't dare. It wasn't just the coldness of the floor that bit into her—it was the coldness in Aarush's eyes, the sharp edge in his voice that cut deeper than any blade.
Her wedding bangles clinked softly as she hugged herself, the sound a cruel reminder of the vows they had taken only hours ago. In sickness and in health. In happiness and in sorrow. But what about in hatred? What about in revenge?
She blinked up at the ceiling, her vision blurring. How had she ended up here? In this marriage that was nothing but a prison sentence. A wife in name, but nothing more. A burden. A punishment.
Aarush shifted again, and for a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep. But then she heard his slow, steady breathing—the kind that wasn't quite peaceful. He was awake. Awake and lost in whatever storm raged inside him.
Sanya swallowed hard. Would this be her life now? Would every night be like this—wrapped in silence, separated by pain neither of them knew how to heal?
Her fingers lightly traced the floor beneath her. The cold seeped into her skin, numbing everything. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. If she would become like him—cold, detached, unfeeling.
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. No, she wasn't like Aarush. She couldn't shut out emotions the way he did. She couldn't pretend that this marriage didn't hurt, that his hatred didn't crush something deep inside her.
Her gaze flickered to the bed. He lay still, his form barely visible in the darkness. For years, she had imagined what it would be like to sleep next to the man she had once admired. She had pictured warmth, security, love.
But all she had was distance.
And cold.
A tear slipped down her cheek, lost in the darkness. She shut her eyes, willing sleep to take her away, even if only for a little while.
But the night stretched on, endless and unforgiving, much like the path that now lay ahead of her.