Monday mornings were already brutal. But this one? This one felt like hell.
My heels clicked against the marble tiles, echoing in the quiet hallway of Rathore Enterprises. Usually, there was a flutter in my chest—maybe excitement, maybe nerves. Today, there was just... nothing. A dull ache in my head. And in my heart.
He hadn't spoken a single word since that night.
After the party, after the yelling, after I stormed out of the car and slammed the door behind me like I was in some dramatic TV soap—he didn't come after me. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a look the next morning.
And that was worse than the shouting. That silence.
"Good morning, Sanaya!" Reema chirped as she passed by with her coffee. I managed a weak smile, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt.
I'd barely slept. Tossing and turning, replaying every second of that party. The way he looked at Freya. The way I laughed too loud with veer.
I just wanted to hurt Abhimaan. To make him feel what I was feeling.
And maybe I succeeded.
But now it was hurting me more.
I stepped into the elevator, praying I wouldn't see him in there.
Fate's a cruel thing.
There he stood. Alone. Hands in his pockets. Suit sharp as ever. Jaw clenched. That tiny vein on his neck ticking.
I froze.
He didn't even look up.
God.
The doors slid closed behind me. I could practically feel the temperature drop. No good mornings. No sarcastic remarks. Not even an accidental glance.
We stood like strangers in a box of glass and steel.
And my heart broke a little more.
Abhimaan's POV
She was standing so close. I could smell her perfume. That soft lavender scent that used to calm me, ground me. Now it just stabbed at my ribs.
I wanted to look at her. Just one glance. But my pride—my stupid, raging pride—held my neck stiff like it was chained.
Why did she do that?
Why the hell did she flirt with someone else just to prove a point? Did she think I wouldn't notice? That it wouldn't burn?
Freya was nothing. She never was. I never gave her anything to hold on to. But Sanaya didn't know that. Or maybe she did—and still chose to act like that.
I had been trying to hold everything together. Between work, the deal with Dad's partners, and hiding our marriage from the company—it was already too much.
But that night?
She didn't just test my patience.
She tested my limits.
And I hated that I cared so much.
The elevator dinged.
She stepped out without a word.
My eyes followed her. Unwillingly. Always.
Always her.
Sanaya's POV
The day dragged like a soggy Monday in July.
My inbox was flooded, my head was pounding, and every time I passed by his glass cabin, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
He looked... cold. Not angry. Not irritated. Just cold. As if I didn't exist. Like the woman who had cried herself to sleep next to him three nights ago wasn't even in the same building.
And worse?
Freya was back. In her stupid peach blouse and four-inch heels, clinging to his side like some damn accessory. Giggling. Tossing her hair. Whispering something in his ear.
I didn't look. I swear I didn't. But I saw it.
And it hurt.
I almost dropped my coffee when someone tapped my shoulder.
"Hey," Veer said gently. "You okay?"
I blinked up at him. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
He gave me a look. The kind of look that says You're lying and we both know it.
"I heard what happened at the party," he murmured, stepping closer. "You don't owe me an explanation. Just... if you need a friend."
My lips parted. For a second, I almost told him everything.
About the fight. About the way Abhimaan's words had ripped through me. About the ring hidden in my handbag. The marriage we were both pretending didn't exist.
But instead, I smiled. A small, broken smile.
"Thanks, Veer. I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced.
But he nodded anyway.
Abhimaan's POV
I saw them.
Veer leaning in. Her eyes wide and glassy. That fake smile she always wore when she was trying not to cry.
I knew that look.
I hated that I recognized it.
I hated even more that I was the reason behind it.
But what the hell was I supposed to do? Walk over and pull her away? Tell Veer to back off? That she was mine?
No. I didn't have the right.
Not after what I said.
Not after the way I looked at her and said those things like I meant them.
"Abhimaan?" Freya's voice cut through my thoughts. Sweet and sharp like a blade wrapped in candy floss. "Are you even listening?"
I turned to her, blinking away the image of Sanaya's face.
"No. I wasn't," I said flatly.
Her smile faltered.
"Don't take this the wrong way," I added, voice low and calm, "but please stop lingering around me all the time. We're professionals. Nothing more."
Freya's eyes narrowed, a flush creeping up her neck.
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. And for once, she walked away without another word.
But the damage was done.
Sanaya didn't see that. She didn't hear me push Freya away.
She only saw what I hadn't said to her.
Later That Night – Home
Sanaya's POV
Dinner was silent.
Even Pihu noticed.
"Yaar, why is the house so dead tonight?" she asked, poking at her salad. "Did someone die or what?"
Abhiraj shot her a glare.
Viraj muttered something about brain cells and shook his head.
I pushed food around my plate and avoided looking at him.
He sat across from me, shoulders tense, chewing in silence.
Not once did he meet my eyes.
Not once.
The second dinner was done, I excused myself and rushed to the bedroom. Not our bedroom. I didn't even know if that word applied anymore.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.
And then the door creaked open.
My breath caught.
He stepped in, still in his formal shirt, top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up.
God, why did he still look so good when I wanted to punch him in the face?
He didn't speak at first. Just leaned against the door and looked at me.
"Sanaya," he said quietly.
I looked up.
"I'm tired," I replied, voice barely above a whisper.
"So am I," he said. But his tone wasn't bitter. Just... tired. Really tired. Like something was breaking inside him too.
A pause.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
Another pause.
"You did," I said.
Silence.
And then he walked over, sat on the other end of the bed, and for a minute, we just sat like that. Backs turned. Breaths uneven.
Not speaking.
But not walking away either.
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