Present day

I walked out of the auditorium without waiting for my friends, my footsteps quick yet unhurried. The crowd was too busy celebrating to notice my absence, and I was grateful for that. The weight in my chest was growing heavier with every passing second, and I needed space to breathe.

The moment I stepped into the washroom, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Reaching up, I loosened my ponytail, letting my waist-length hair fall around me. A strange sense of relief washed over me as if the simple act of freeing my hair could untangle the emotions knotted inside me. My headache, which had been nagging at me all evening, eased just a little.

Turning toward the sink, I twisted the faucet open and splashed cold water onto my face. The coolness seeped into my skin, grounding me. But when I lifted my head and looked into the mirror, my breath hitched.

I looked the same as I had six months ago. The same face, the same features. And yet, everything had changed.

My eyes drifted down to the delicate locket resting against my collarbone—the locket I had never taken off. It was a reminder, an unspoken truth that bound me to him. Unknowingly, I had accepted my reality. I had accepted that I was his wife, even when I knew this marriage was just a temporary tie. He would walk away one day, and perhaps that day wasn't far.

Or had he already walked away the moment we got married?

A bitter chuckle escaped me. When had he ever been with me?

Right after the wedding, Avyant was sent to Mumbai for work, and six months passed without a single conversation between us. No calls, no messages—not even a passing acknowledgment of my existence. And today, after all these months, I finally saw him.

And he ignored me.

A lone tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I wasn’t naïve; I had never expected him to love me. But a simple look of recognition—was that too much to ask for?

I exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink.

The truth was, it wasn’t him who was at fault. It was me.

Because despite everything, I had started having feelings for him. Or maybe… I always had.

Memories from childhood flickered in my mind. The summer vacations when Avyant, Kabir, and I would play endlessly under the sun, laughter ringing through the air. He used to call me Rose back then, a nickname that made me feel special.

But things changed when he turned nineteen. He stopped talking to me, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a cold indifference. The shift in our dynamic had been sudden and painful, and at the time, I hadn’t understood why. Maybe he had started believing what his father always said—that I wasn’t of his class, that I didn’t belong in their world.

It hurt.

It hurt when someone who once made you feel cherished started treating you like a stranger. And it hurt even more when you had feelings for that person.

I thought I had buried those feelings a long time ago. But the moment I saw him today, standing there as if I didn’t exist, the pain came rushing back.

Maybe this was for the best. If he continued ignoring me, it would be easier to kill this stupid hope inside me.

Wiping away the tears, I straightened my shoulders. No more self-pity.

I stepped out of the washroom, ensuring my face betrayed nothing, and made my way back toward my friends.

"Where were you, Sanj?" Raghav asked as soon as I reached them.

Before I could answer, a distinct throat-clearing sound cut through the chatter.

The air around us shifted.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I could already feel his presence.

Avyant Rathore.

He stood a meter away, his posture effortlessly commanding, his jaw taut. A pair of dark shades covered half his face, but I could still feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me.

"Congratulations to all of you once again,"

he stated casually, addressing no one in particular.

The group responded in unison with a polite

“Thank you,”

except for me. My lips remained sealed, my throat dry.

"So, tomorrow we will meet in my office at ten o’clock,"

he added with finality.

And just like that, he nodded and walked away, heading toward the principal.

"I swear I have never heard a voice as heavy as Mr. Rathore’s,"

Chanchal sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart.

"Ugh, why do princes always have to look so good?"

I rolled my eyes at her dreamy tone.

"Stop drooling over him,"

Suraj interjected.

"For your information, he’s already married, okay?"

"Yeah, but no one knows who he’s married to,"

Meera added.

"That girl must be really lucky."

I swallowed hard.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that their “lucky girl” was standing right beside them, feeling like the unluckiest person in the world.

"Enough about his marriage,"

I snapped, unable to take it anymore.

"Let’s go celebrate this success instead."

"Yeah! But where should we go?"

Raghav asked.

"Where else? Our regular place,"

Meera said in a duh tone.

As we moved toward the exit, I walked past him again.

This time, I lifted my chin, refusing to let him affect me. If he could pretend I didn’t exist, then so could I.

But in my attempt to hold my head high, I didn’t see the uneven step.

My foot twisted, and I felt my balance slip.

Panic flared in my chest—I was about to fall flat on my face in the most embarrassing way possible.

Before I could crash to the ground, a firm pair of hands caught my waist, steadying me.

My breath hitched.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, preparing myself for the worst.

It wasn’t him.

It was Raghav.

“You need to watch where you’re going,”

Raghav muttered, steadying me.

I blinked up at him, my heart still racing. “Uh… thanks.”

His grip lingered for a second, warm and reassuring. “Be careful, Sanj.”

I nodded, but my eyes instinctively flickered back—to have one last glance at Avyant.

And that’s when I saw it.

His jaw.

Slightly clenched.

Not much, just a flicker of something. But it was there.

Was he irritated?

But before I could fully process it, Meera grabbed my arm.

“Come on, Sanj! Stop staring at the Greek god . We have a victory to celebrate!”

With that, my friends dragged me away, their chatter drowning out the lingering tension in the air.

—

The café was warm, familiar, and smelled like freshly brewed coffee and melted cheese. Within minutes, my mood started to lift.

“To celebration toh banta hai!”

I declared, raising my apple juice dramatically.

Meera clinked her glass with mine, grinning. Just as I took a sip, she suddenly frowned.

“Hey, Sanj… where’s that locket you always wear?”

The words barely registered before my fingers instinctively flew to my neck—

Only to find nothing.

My stomach dropped.

The locket was gone.

“Oh no,”

I whispered, already standing up in a panic.

“Oh no, no, no, no.”

The table fell silent.

Chanchal gasped.

“Wait… was it expensive?”

I swallowed. They didn’t know. To them, it was just some fancy piece of jewelry.

“It’s… priceless.”

That was all it took. My friends immediately transformed into detectives.

“We need to retrace your steps,”

Raghav announced like an actual investigator.

“Check your purse,”

Nidhi suggested, even though I had already turned it inside out.

“We should report it to the manager,”

Suraj added like we were solving a grand heist.

Meanwhile, I stood there, feeling utterly hollow.

The only thing I had of Avyant was gone. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe even the universe was done with my pathetic attachment to a marriage that didn’t exist beyond papers.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. Great. Just great.

—

After nearly an hour of searching and questioning innocent café workers, the locket remained missing.

Defeated and exhausted, I let Raghav drop me home.

“You okay?” he asked gently when we reached my apartment.

I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You don’t have to pretend, Sanj.”

His quiet sincerity made my throat tighten, but I quickly shook it off. “I’ll survive.”

He nodded, but before I got out, he added, “You know we’d turn the whole city upside down if you wanted.”

I chuckled. “I know.”

As I stepped into my apartment, I let out a heavy sigh. The silence felt louder tonight.

I flopped onto the couch, exhausted. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

Then—

A car door slammed outside.

I frowned, peeking through the window. A black car was parked right outside my building.

A moment later, my doorbell rang.

I opened the door—only to find Avyant’s secretary.

My locket was in his hand.

“Mr. Rathore asked me to return this,” he said, tone neutral.

My breath caught. Avyant sent it back?

A ridiculous part of me almost thought—Did he actually care?

But no. This wasn’t care.

This was obligation.

I straightened my spine. “Keep it.”

The secretary blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t need it.”

Without waiting for his response, I stepped back and slammed the door shut.

Leaning against it, I let out a shaky breath. My chest felt tight, my emotions tangled. I had wanted the locket. But not like this.

Then—

The doorbell rang again.

I groaned. “I said I don’t want it—”

I yanked open the door—

And froze.

The moment I opened the door and saw him, my breath caught.

Avyant Rathore.

My husband. A man who had been a ghost in my life for six months. A man who had ignored me, who had walked past me today like I was nothing.

And now, he was here. At my doorstep.

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe my exhaustion had finally broken me. But no, he was real—standing there in his usual composed, unreadable manner, as if he belonged here.

What was he doing here?

My stomach twisted. A thousand emotions crashed into me at once. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Bitterness. And something else—something I didn’t want to name.

I had spent the entire evening searching for that stupid locket. The only thing that had tied me to him. And when his secretary showed up with it, I had rejected it. Because I didn’t want a secondhand apology.

But now, instead of dropping the matter, Avyant himself had come.

Why?

Did he feel guilty? No, that wasn’t possible. Avyant Rathore didn’t do guilt. He didn’t do emotions.

I should have shut the door. I really, really should have.

But instead, I spoke.

And of course, I chose sarcasm—the only defense I had left.

“What are you doing in an unknown person’s home?”

His jaw clenched slightly. Oh. So, I irritated him?

Good. Let him feel a fraction of the frustration I had carried all day.

“I don’t think you’re unknown, Sanjita,” he said, his voice calm yet sharp.

Hearing my name from him sent a shiver down my spine. I hated that it did.

I folded my arms, masking the way my heart was racing. “That’s funny. You seemed to think otherwise earlier today.”

No reaction. No flicker of guilt. Just that same unreadable stare.

I hated that too.

I should have been indifferent. I should have laughed in his face. But the truth was—his presence unnerved me.

Because for the first time in six months, Avyant Rathore had come to see me. And I had no idea what that meant.