Page 75 of The Secret Bride
She could have it. She already owned it anyway.
I had slept better last night than I had in years. Maybe ever. There was something about having her in my arms, feeling her breathing sync with mine, knowing she was safe and close and mine, that quieted every restless thought in my head.
For the first time in a month, I had not woken up at three in the morning replaying that scene at the party. Had not tortured myself with images of Puneet's hand on her waist. Had not ached with the emptiness of sleeping in a bed that should have had her in it.
Because she was here now. Finally. Where she belonged.
After a month of separation, of deliberately putting an ocean between us, of forcing myself not to call or text or give in to the desperate need to hear her voice, I had realized something fundamental.
I was in love with my wife.
Not the shallow attraction I had felt for Avija. Not the convenient affection or the practical compatibility. This was something else entirely. Something deeper and more consuming and infinitely more terrifying.
This was real love. True love. The kind of love that my father had felt for my mother. The kind that destroyed you when you lost it.
The kind that would make me destroy anyone who tried to come between us.
Our marriage might have started as a convenience, a one year arrangement to satisfy astrological prophecies and family obligations. But I knew with absolute certainty that this would last far beyond that arbitrary deadline.
This would last until I took my last breath. And if there was anything beyond that, it would last there too.
I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. She hummed contentedly in her sleep and nuzzled closer against my chest, her arm tightening around my waist.
Perfect. She was absolutely perfect.
I must have been staring too intently, because after a moment, she stirred. Her head lifted slightly, and sleepy eyes blinked open to look at me.
"Good morning," I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
"Good morning," she murmured back, her voice still rough with sleep.
She was breathtaking like this. Hair mussed from sleep, face free of makeup, wearing nothing. This was Viya in her most natural state, and I wanted to wake up to this sight every single day for the rest of my life.
She started to sit up, clearly intending to get out of bed.
Not a chance.
I tightened my arm around her and pulled her back down against me.
"Where do you think you are going?"
She looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, now more alert.
"I am not the one going anywhere. You are the one who needs to leave. It is morning, and Akshita might come knocking on my door any moment to get me for breakfast."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
"So?" She looked at me like I was being deliberately obtuse. "If she sees you here, she will ask questions."
"Then I will answer them. I will tell her I am your husband and I have every right to be in your room."
"Armaan!" She sat up properly now, her expression shifting to something between amusement and exasperation. "Akshita will tell this to the whole world. You know how office gossip spreads."
I shrugged, completely unbothered by the prospect.
"Let her tell. Or better yet, I will tell everyone myself. Why wait?"
