Page 7 of His Arranged Wife
"Bhabhi!" He crossed the room and touched her feet in respect before she could stop him.
"Shaurya, please, you don't need to—"
"Respect is respect," he said with a grin, settling beside her. At twenty-seven, Shaurya was everything his older brother wasn't—warm, open, genuinely kind. "How's the book coming?"
"Slowly."
"Writer's block?"
"Something like that."
Saroj's expression soured at the easy rapport between them. "Shaurya, shouldn't you be at the office?"
"Took the afternoon off. Figured I'd spend some time at home." He glanced at Nimisha. "Want to grab lunch later, bhabhi? There's a new place that opened in Bandra. Best biryani in the city, supposedly."
Before Nimisha could answer, Saroj interrupted. "Nimisha needs to help Kritika with the prayer room organization. It's been neglected."
"I don't mind doing it alone," Kritika said quickly. "Really, Maa, Nimisha should spend time with Shaurya if she wants—"
"The prayer room is important," Saroj insisted. "Family tradition takes precedence."
Nimisha recognized the trap. If she refused, she'd be disrespecting tradition. If she agreed, she'd be admitting she'd neglected her duties.
"I'll help with the prayer room," she said quietly. "Shaurya, perhaps another time?"
His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face, but he nodded. "Sure, bhabhi. Another time."
The conversation continued around her—Saroj and Kritika discussing the household, Shaurya trying and failing to drawNimisha in. She responded when addressed, smiled when expected, and felt absolutely nothing.
This was her life. Sitting in rooms where she was tolerated but not wanted, smiling through thinly veiled insults, being compared to a woman who fit this family in ways she never would.
An hour later, when Saroj and Kritika finally left to examine the prayer room, Shaurya lingered.
"She's harder on you than she should be, bhabhi," he said quietly.
"She wants what's best for her son."
"You are what's best for him." Shaurya's voice was fierce. "If he were smart enough to see it."
Nimisha's throat tightened with unexpected emotion. "I'm fine, Shaurya. I'm always fine."
He studied her for a long moment, and she knew he didn't believe her. But he was kind enough not to push.
"You know where to find me if you need anything," he said finally. "Anything at all."
"Thank you."
After he left, Nimisha sat alone in the sitting room, staring at the cold tea in her cup.
A shadow moved in the doorway. Bruno.
The dog stood there, his dark eyes fixed on her, and for a moment, she thought he might approach. But then footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Bruno melted back into the shadows.
Even he knew better than to be seen with her.
Nimisha set down her teacup and returned to her study. She had a love confession to write, after all.
She just had to remember what love looked like.
