Page 115 of The Defiant Wife

Gentle.

Certain.

His arm settles around my waist again as he leads me toward the exit.

Nobody tries to stop us. Nobody dares. The room stays silent behind us.

He smiles gently as we step out. Then leans forward and kisses my forehead. "Let's go home, Trouble."

For the first time in my life . . . Someone chooses me.

Not despite my scars. Not out of pity. Not because they have to.

But because, to him . . . I am worth more than an entire kingdom.

44. MAGNIFICENT

DIYA

The curtains are drawn tightly across the bedroom windows, keeping the moonlight outside and leaving the room wrapped in soft darkness.

We're lying on the bed with our backs to each other. A stretch of cool silk sheets separates us, but my mind is still back at tonight's gala.

I keep staring at the wall, twisting the edge of the bedsheet between my fingers.

I can still hear Veeraj's voice. The way he stood in front of me. The way he defended me without thinking twice.

He walked away from one of the biggest political events of the year because someone insulted me.

I still don't know how to carry the weight of that. "You didn't have to do that," I whisper into the silence, my voice barely louder than a breath.

Behind me, the mattress shifts. I hear him turn toward me. "Do what?" he asks quietly. His voice is calm, but I know he already knows what I'm talking about. "You know exactly what."

I close my eyes for a second. "It was such an important event for you, Veeraj. The palace spent months preparing for it. You didn't have to throw everything away because of me."

He goes quiet. Then suddenly, his arm slides around my waist from behind and gently pulls me against him.

My back settles against his chest. His warmth surrounds me instantly. He lowers his face near my neck. "I didn't do it because of you," he says softly. "I did it because of him."

His voice turns firmer. "How dare he stand in front of me and disrespect my wife?"

My breath catches. Even after all this time, hearing those words still does something to my heart.

I slowly turn in his arms until we're facing each other. One of my hands rests against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm. "It's normal, Veeraj," I whisper. "It happens all the time." I force out a small smile that doesn't feel real. "People look at me like that everywhere. I've gotten used to it."

I shrug lightly. "I'm . . . different to look at."

"It's expected."

His jaw tightens immediately. "Expected?" he repeats quietly. There's disbelief in his voice.

His hand comes up to cup my face. His thumb gently brushes across my cheek, making me look at him. "No." He shakes his head. "Never say that again." His eyes don't leave mine. "You're beautiful, Diya." His voice is steady. Certain. "I noticed you the very first day I walked into your NGO." He smiles faintly. "You were arguing with someone, completely convinced you were right."

A tiny laugh escapes me through the tears. "I was right."

"I know." His smile grows. "You usually are."

His thumb brushes lightly over one of the pale patches on my cheek. "I noticed your smile."