AANYA

Cold.

That was the first thing I felt. A strange chill seeping into my skin, sharp enough to break the veil of sleep. My hand brushed the surface beneath me-smooth, hard, and biting cold.

I frowned, still half-asleep, my lids heavy. And then I realized.

Marble.

I had slipped out of the couch in the middle of the night, blanket tangled around me like a rope.

"Oh ho, Aanya," I muttered inwardly, mentally patting my forehead, "can't you even sleep properly."

Slowly, carefully, I sat up. The clock on the side wall glowed faintly-just past six. Outside, the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, spilling thin silver lines onto the floor.

I folded the blanket neatly, almost as if tidying up could erase the clumsiness of my fall. My eyes lifted then-to him.

Aarav.

Still asleep on the bed, his face turned slightly toward the balcony doors, his breath calm, even. For a moment, I just looked at him-at how unbothered he seemed while my own world still spun in quiet storms.

I shook myself out of it. Picking up my lavender saree, I tiptoed to the washroom.

When I emerged, draped and ready, the mirror caught me mid-step. I paused. Lavender wasn't the boldness of red-it was softer, quieter. Safer, maybe.

I traced the line of sindoor at my hairline, my hand steady even though my heart wasn't.

The balcony door creaked faintly. I turned.

He was there-Aarav-already awake, standing against the railing outside, the early sun washing his profile in pale gold. He turned just as I pressed the final touch of sindoor.

A silence hung, and then he stepped inside.

"Good morning," he said, voice still rough from sleep.

I looked up, forcing a small smile. "Morning."

He slipped his hands into his pockets, his tone even. "Aanya... today we'll be leaving from here."

I nodded.

"So, pack your things," he added, glancing briefly toward the wardrobe. "We'll leave after breakfast."

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his clothes and walked into the washroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

---

Downstairs, the air was thick with the faint fragrance of incense. I lit a diya before the small idol, my hands folded, a quiet prayer pressed into my lips.

When I rose, his parents and sister were already there. They too bent for blessings, their voices soft, respectful. Without hesitation, I bent and touched my father-in-law's and mother-in-law's feet.

"Stay happy, beta," his father said gently, his hand resting on my head.

His mother's smile was faint but kind.

Aarav joined soon after, and the four of us gathered in the hall. His father and sister settled comfortably on the sofas, Aarav leaning back in quiet conversation with them. Their words were light, scattered-ordinary questions, small jokes, the kind of talk families share on slow mornings.

After a few minutes, his mother rose and I instinctively followed her into the kitchen.

The air smelled of cardamom and fresh ghee. She moved with practiced ease, reaching for spices, setting pans on the stove. When I tried to take over, she didn't stop me-instead, she guided me gently.

"Hand me that plate, beta."

"Not too fast, stir it slowly."

Her tone wasn't commanding, just... warm. Each instruction carried a softness that brushed against something hollow inside me. Maternal. Familiar in a way I had almost forgotten.

From the doorway, I could hear the faint sound of Aarav's voice drifting from the hall-deep, steady-mingled with his father's laughter and Avni's quick remarks. It all blended with the clink of utensils and the sizzle of breakfast on the stove, like a household rhythm I didn't know I missed until now.

Breakfast was simple, warm, shared. Not grand like last night's reception, but far more human.

And yet, it ended quickly.

"I think we should leave now," Aarav said, glancing at the time. Always the clock, always the work.

His mother looked up, disappointment flickering.

His father nodded slowly. "ok beta."

When I rose to touch their feet again, his mother surprised me by pulling me into a hug. Her voice softened against my ear. "Beta, whenever you want to talk to us, you can call. And you can visit us whenever you wish. Even if Aarav says no."

My lips trembled at the corners. "Ji."

Outside, he walked ahead but paused to open the car door for me. I slipped inside with a quiet "thank you."

He rounded to the other side and got in, his eyes dropped to his phone, the glow reflecting faintly on his face.

In the car, silence pressed between us again. He stared ahead, focused, while my thoughts spiraled inward.

This family talks to me as if I were their daughter. As if I'm leaving for my sasural after a wedding. And then there's my family... my parents who stripped me even of a phone, saying-'you're going to a rich house, they'll buy you one. Why waste our money?

I bit my lip, glancing at the passing trees. If I tell them I don't have a phone, what will they think? That I'm greedy? Demanding? A marriage barely begun, and I start asking for things?

My fingers curled in my lap. Bhagwanji, what kind of family did you give me? Even beggars sometimes live with more dignity than this.

I lost myself in the thoughts until the car slowed. My eyes widened.

The house loomed ahead-tall, wide, not as massive as the one we had just left, but still... overwhelming.

"Ohh..." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Aarav glanced briefly. "Let's go." He instructed the driver to carry the luggage inside.

Inside, the air was different. The house breathing too softly.

How can someone live here alone? Doesn't he get scared?

"This way," Aarav's voice broke my thoughts.

He led me upstairs, stopping before a door. He pushed it open. "This is your room. I told Sunita to clean it for you."

I stepped in slowly. The room was simple but elegant-soft curtains, polished furniture, everything in place. Mine now, apparently.

He pointed toward the next door. "My room is right beside this one. If you need anything, you can tell me. Or Sunita."

I nodded. "Okay."

He lingered for a second too long at the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His hand brushed the strap of the bag he carried, as though debating something. Finally, he cleared his throat and pulled out a small box wrapped in neat paper.

"Ah... this," he said, holding it out. "It's for you."

I blinked. "For... me?" The words never escaped, but I was sure my face betrayed them.

He caught the look anyway. His lips twitched, almost a smile, then flattened again. "Mom said... I should give you something. A gift. So-" he lifted the box slightly, "here."

I hesitated before taking it. The paper was smooth under my fingertips, but my mind was already spinning. Gifts? For me?

"Open it," he urged softly, almost too quickly. "See if you like it. If not..." his hand rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking away, "I'll get you something else."

Carefully, I peeled away the paper, lifted the lid-

A phone.

My breath hitched. I stared at it, silent.

He mistook my silence. Immediately, his voice rushed in, low and uncertain. "What happened? You don't like it? Maybe I should have asked first. I can get another one, something different-"

"Thank you," I cut in, steadier than I felt.

He stopped mid-sentence, blinking at me. Relief softened the edges of his face, though he tried to hide it.

"I... sometimes talk too much," he admitted under his breath. Then, with a gesture toward the phone, he added, "All the numbers are saved-mine, Ma's, Papa's, Avni's. If you want... you can call."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Alright then." He lingered just a second longer, as if he had more to say but chose silence instead. Finally, he straightened. "Take some rest. Lunch will be ready later."

When the door clicked shut behind him, I stood there, the phone in my hand, staring at it as if it held secrets.

I never told him. I never said I didn't have a phone. Then why... why give me one?

I sank onto the bed, the device heavy in my palms.

Can he hear my thoughts?

What if he can... what if he already knows everything I keep buried?

No, that's ridiculous. He's just sitting there, scrolling on his phone. Still... why does it feel like he reacts exactly when my mind wanders too far?

Maybe it's all coincidence.

Ya, coincidence.

Or... maybe not?

Uff, Aanya, stop. Shut up. Don't go crazy imagining things. It's nothing. Just... nothing.