Page 59 of His Arranged Wife
"I said a lot of things this morning. Most of them I shouldn't have."
"Do you?" His grip tightened slightly. "Love me?"
She looked at him—really looked at him. At the man who'd been forced to marry her, who'd made it clear from day one that she meant nothing, who'd given her his body but never his heart.
And she made a decision.
"Does it matter?" she asked softly. "Would it change anything?"
He didn't answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
It wouldn't change a thing.
She pulled her wrist free gently. "That's what I thought."
This time, when she left, he didn't try to stop her.
Bruno watched her go, then looked up at his master with what could only be described as disappointment.
Samarth stood alone in the library, staring at the door through which his wife had disappeared, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath his feet.
There's only you. It's always been only you.
She loved him.
His unwanted wife, who he'd treated with cold indifference for a year, who he'd relegated to the margins of his life, who he'd touched in darkness but ignored in daylight—
She loved him.
And he had no idea what to do about that.
CHAPTER 8
One Year Anniversary - 6:47 AM
Nimisha woke up alone. The space beside her was cold, the sheets undisturbed. Samarth hadn't come to bed last night. After their confrontation in the library yesterday, she hadn't expected him to.
Today marked exactly one year since their wedding.
Three hundred and sixty-five days of being Mrs. Samarth Ranawat.
She stared at the ceiling, her chest tight with an emotion she couldn't name. Grief, maybe. For the marriage that never was. For the love she'd foolishly given to a man incapable of returning it.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from her brother Abhay.
Happy Anniversary, choti. I hope he's treating you better than I fear he is. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.
Tears pricked her eyes. At least someone remembered. At least someone cared.
She typed a response:Thank you, bhai. I'm fine. Don't worry.
Lies came easier via text.
She got up, showered, dressed in a simple salwar kameez. No point in dressing up. No point in pretending today was special.
It was just another day.
