Anaya couldn't stop thinking about Rhea.
The way she had spoken to Aarav—casual, confident, familiar—lingered in Anaya's mind long after they returned home. It wasn't jealousy. She told herself that repeatedly.
It was awareness.
Awareness that Aarav had a life long before this contract. A world filled with people who knew him in ways she never would.
She was only passing through.
---
That evening, Anaya found herself in the library—one of the few places in the house that felt lived in. Books lined the shelves, most of them business-related, but a few older novels were tucked away at the bottom.
She ran her fingers along the spines, stopping when one slipped out slightly.
Before she could pull it free, a voice spoke behind her.
"You won't like that one."
She turned.
Aarav stood near the doorway, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. He looked different without the sharp lines of his suit—less guarded, almost human.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Something my father liked," he replied. "I never finished it."
She hesitated, then slid the book back into place.
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"Rhea works closely with you," Anaya said finally, choosing her words carefully.
"Yes."
"You trust her."
"Yes."
Nothing more.
She nodded, though the simplicity of his answers left too much unsaid.
"I won't interfere," she said quietly. "I know my place."
His jaw tightened.
"That's not what this is about," he said.
"Then what is it about?"
For a moment, it seemed like he might actually answer.
Instead, he looked away. "You don't need to worry about her."
"I wasn't worried," she replied, even as she knew the lie was thin.
He studied her face. "Good."
The conversation ended there.
---
Dinner was quieter than usual.
Aarav received a call midway through the meal. His expression changed—subtle, but Anaya noticed.
"I'll be late," he said after hanging up.
"Work?" she asked.
"Yes."
She nodded. "Alright."
But something about the way he avoided her eyes told her it wasn't just that.
---
Anaya returned to her room, restless.
She sat on the bed, staring at the walls that still didn't feel like hers. The silence pressed in on her thoughts.
Why did it matter?
This marriage wasn't real. It had an expiration date.
And yet, the idea of Aarav walking back into that familiar world—where she didn't exist—left an ache she couldn't explain.
---
It was close to midnight when she heard the door downstairs open.
She hesitated, then stepped out of her room.
Aarav stood in the hallway, loosening his tie. He looked tired.
"You're still awake," he said.
"I couldn't sleep."
Neither could he, it seemed.
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the space between them felt charged—too quiet, too aware.
"There are boundaries," Aarav said suddenly.
She blinked. "I know."
"No," he corrected. "Between us. They exist for a reason."
Her chest tightened. "I haven't crossed any."
"I know," he said again, softer this time.
Then why did it feel like a warning?
"Good night, Anaya," he said, stepping back.
"Good night," she replied.
She watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps fading.
Only when she closed her door did she realize her hands were trembling.
The boundaries were clear.
But for the first time, she wondered who was really afraid of crossing them.
---