The hallway on the seventeenth floor was hushed, the kind of silence only luxury hotels could afford—carpet thick enough to swallow footsteps, golden sconces casting soft light across cream walls, and a faint fragrance of orchids following us from the lobby.
We stopped where the corridor forked, two doors facing one another.
"Seventeen‑oh‑three for you ladies," Aarav announced, slipping Janvi's key into her palm with a grin that earned him another glare. "And seventeen‑oh‑five for us. Perfect neighbors, hmm?"
Rudra said nothing. He simply rolled the trolley bag forward. My trolley bag. And without asking, without even looking at me, he pushed it right up to the door of my room.
The nerve.
I moved quickly, catching the handle before he could knock. My hand brushed his, my heart stuttering, but I refused to let it show. "Thanks," I said quietly, pulling the bag inside.
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second.
Steady. Silent.Like he knew every storm I was pretending not to feel.
And then the moment broke. I pulled the bag fully inside and closed the door behind me.
The room was just as magnificent as the lobby—floor‑to‑ceiling windows spilling daylight across a king‑sized bed, a sitting area with cream sofas, and a bathroom door framed in dark mahogany. Janvi threw herself onto the bed with a sigh, stretching out her arms dramatically.
"Finally!" she groaned. "My back is killing me."
I stood still for a moment, my palm flat on the door, my breath uneven. Through the tiny peephole, I caught a glimpse of Rudra as he slipped into the room opposite ours. Calm. Unhurried. As if nothing had happened.
My throat tightened.
I turned, walking toward the bathroom, but Janvi's voice caught me mid‑step.
"Are you seriously angry?"
I froze.
The question was casual, but her eyes weren't. They followed me with quiet understanding.
I tried to shrug. "I'm fine."
Janvi propped herself up on her elbows, brows raised. "Liar."
My lips trembled before the words could even form. I dropped my gaze to the carpet, my voice cracking. "I know this hotel belongs to the Singhaniya family. I know people will look at him. I knew it before I even married him."
I swallowed hard, the confession spilling out before I could stop it.
"But did I ever say I wasn't jealous? Because I am. Janvi, I'm jealous when someone looks at him. I'm jealous when I can't stand beside him in public. And this stupid law—this stupid secrecy—it ties my hands. It forces me to pretend there's nothing between us when there's everything."
My voice broke. The weight of it pressed against my chest until tears finally slipped free.
Janvi sat up quickly, eyes softening. "Anaya…"
I pressed a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. "I can't even say he's mine. I can't even stop them from… from…" My voice dissolved into silence.
And then Janvi was there. She crossed the room in two quick steps and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me tight into a hug.
"Shhh," she whispered against my hair. "Anu, listen to me."
Her voice was steady, firm in a way only Janvi could manage. "You told me yourself, remember? He chose you. Not because he had no options, but because he wanted you. He could have had anyone, Anaya. Anyone. And yet, he picked you."
I choked on a sob, clutching her kurta.
"So you tell me," Janvi continued softly, "who's the lucky one? Not you. Him. He's the lucky one. Because he has a wife who cries not for herself, but because she can't claim him in front of the world."
Her words struck deep, somewhere raw and unguarded.
"Every pain has its time, Anu," she whispered. "Every storm has an end. Maybe right now you have to hide. Maybe right now it hurts. But you know what comes after pain?"
I shook my head weakly.
"Peace. Happiness. And one day, when the time is right, no one will doubt who you belong to."
I tried to smile, but another tear slipped down. Janvi brushed it away with her thumb.
"I hate tears, Anu," she said softly, with a mock pout. "Especially yours. They don't suit you."
A weak chuckle broke from my lips. "You sound like Ria right now."
Janvi laughed, a small, warm sound that loosened the heaviness in my chest. "Exactly. I learned from the best. Speaking of her… we should call her later. She'll scold you for crying."
"Please do," I murmured, finally letting out a shaky laugh.
Janvi pulled back, brushing her braid over her shoulder. "Then it's settled. We freshen up, we get ready, and we face today with smiles. Agreed?"
I nodded, finally feeling the fog lift.
We walked into the bathroom together, laughter echoing softly as we teased about the over‑stocked luxury toiletries and the absurdly big bathtub. For a moment, it felt normal again—like two girls on a trip, not two women carrying secrets heavy enough to break them.
But even as I laughed, part of me stayed back at that door. At the memory of his smirk, the weight of his gaze, the unspoken promise in his silence.
Because no matter what I said to Janvi, the truth was this:
Yes. I was jealous.
And Rudra Singhaniya knew it.
The suite smelled of lavender soap and hotel‑fresh towels by the time Anaya and Janvi emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, cheeks glowing from hot showers. Both had slipped into casual kurtis for the morning, faces bare except for the flush of laughter still lingering between them.
Janvi flopped onto the bed, scrolling through her phone, when she suddenly sat upright. "Anu! Let's call Ria. It's been twelve hours—we owe her gossip."
Anaya smiled softly, tugging the towel off her braid. "Hmm. She'll be cranky if we don't."
So they set the phone against a pillow and dialed. Within seconds, the screen lit up with Ria's familiar face.
"Finally!" Ria's voice burst through, half‑whiny, half‑relieved. "Do you two remember you have a sister back in Delhi, or what?"
Janvi giggled. "Relax, drama queen. We're here now."
But almost immediately, Anaya frowned. "Why do you look… distracted?"
Ria blinked too quickly. "Huh? Nahi toh. I'm fine."
Janvi and Anaya exchanged a glance. Something was off. Ria wasn't her usual chatty self. Her eyes darted sideways every few seconds, her lips tugged with a smile she tried—and failed—to suppress.
"Ria…" Janvi drawled, suspicion lacing her tone. "Kahaan ho tum?"
Before Ria could protest, Anaya leaned forward. "Show us."
With an exaggerated sigh, Ria tilted her phone.
And there he was.
Ravi.
Standing just behind her, one hand clutching more shopping bags than any man should have to carry. Designer labels, bright colors, a mountain of retail therapy dangling from both arms.
Anaya and Janvi gasped in unison. Their mouths fell open, then stretched into identical teasing smiles.
"Ohhhh," Janvi sang, her voice wicked. "Toh madam early morning shopping kar rahi hain…"
"…aur saara bojh uthaya hai Mr. Ravi ne," Anaya finished, grinning wide.
Ria nearly dropped her cold coffee in panic. "No! Shut up! It's not—"
"Not a date?" Janvi supplied helpfully, eyes sparkling.
"Bilkul nahi," Ria snapped, cheeks turning a shade too pink to be convincing.
Anaya cupped her face with mock innocence. "Then what should we call it? Hmm?"
"Public service," Janvi deadpanned. "Ravi as free porter."
Anaya laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.
Ria groaned, throwing her head back. "Seriously, tum dono unbearable ho."
The teasing continued until Ria's ears turned crimson. Finally, she muttered, "I'll call you when I get home. Bye!" and hit the red button before they could tease further.
The screen went black, leaving Anaya and Janvi laughing breathlessly, sprawled across the bed like children sharing a secret.
Meanwhile, across the café where Ria sat sipping her coffee, Ravi balanced the mountain of bags and his phone simultaneously. His screen still glowed—Rudra's name flashing.
"Reached the office?" Rudra's voice came firm, commanding even through the line.
Ravi shifted the bags on his arm, exhaling. "Yes, sir. Just in traffic. Fifteen more minutes."
Ria froze mid‑sip. The straw clinked against the glass as her brows shot up. She glanced sideways at Ravi, who didn't notice.
Liar.
She bit back a smile, eyes glittering. He was lying through his teeth, cool as ice, while standing here in a mall café buried under shopping bags.
Rudra's voice hummed again. "Hmm. Be on time. Call me once you're inside."
"Of course," Ravi replied smoothly. "I'll update you."
The call ended. Ravi slid the phone into his pocket with the calm of a man who had done nothing wrong. He adjusted the bags again and muttered under his breath, "Maan, yeh bags kuch zyada nahi hain kya…"(Man, aren't these bags a little too much?)
Ria rose from her chair, her lips twitching with a secret she couldn't hold back anymore.
She turned to him, holding her phone out like evidence. "Zyada toh hain, Mr. Tandan. Waise… dekhiye."
She tapped the screen, and a video started playing.
Ravi leaned closer, brow furrowing. The clip showed a mirror, a pair of muscled arms flexing, a smirk on familiar lips. He inhaled sharply.
"That's—"
"Your video," Ria finished sweetly. "From the mansion gym. Just a few weeks ago."
The screen played again: Ravi doing tricep dips in a fitted vest, sweat glistening, expression cocky.
Her grin widened, mischief dripping from every syllable as she teased:"Matak matak jaise… Ravi_Na Tandan."(Swaying around like Ravi‑Na Tandan.)
Ravi's jaw dropped. His ears flushed red instantly.
"Ria—" he started, panicked.
But she cut him off, holding her hand out with mock authority. "Ab bags uthaiye, ji."(Now pick up the bags, sir.)
Her eyes danced with laughter, though her tone was commanding.
Ravi blinked at her, speechless for once. Then—unable to stop himself—he laughed, shaking his head as he adjusted the mountain of bags on his arms.
"Tum toh… impossible ho," he muttered, still grinning.
Ria turned away, hiding her smile behind her coffee straw. But her cheeks stayed pink, her eyes brighter than ever.
Back in the hotel, Anaya and Janvi were still sprawled on the bed, replaying Ria's flustered face in their minds.
"She's so gone," Janvi laughed.
Anaya smirked. "And he has no idea."
But somewhere, in the quiet corners of her heart, Anaya knew—maybe Ravi did know. Maybe he felt it too.
And if Rudra's calm lies could shake her… then Ravi's easy charm could melt Ria just as fast.