Chapter - 30
Shivanya ~
A week passed with us falling into this coexisting routine. This morning started like any other except for the fact that Mr. Birdbrain decided that I am never driving myself anywhere ever again.
"I'm driving." I say firmly, standing beside my car, arms crossed.
Vihaan, looking every inch the unbothered, ridiculously successful lawyer simply leaned against his own car, hands in his pockets, watching me like he's already won.
"You are not." he says, voice calm, like the matter was already settled.
I narrow my eyes. "Yes, I am."
He tilted his head slightly, infuriatingly amused. "Are you, though?"
I glare. "It's my car."
"I bought you a better one."
I gasped, scandalized. "Excuse me?"
He said, as if this is just another business transaction. "It's in the garage."
"I never asked for a new car, Vihaan sir!!"
"I never said you had to ask."
I throw my hands up. "You can't just...."
"Sunshine," he interrupted, completely ignoring my impending tirade. "I am not negotiating on this."
"Well, I am!"
He stepped closer to me, slow, deliberate, like he's utterly entertained by my absolute refusal to back down.
"Let me explain something to you," he murmured, voice infuriatingly calm. "You are my wife. That means I get to make sure you never have to deal with reckless drivers, annoying traffic, or—"
I cut him off, exasperated. "I have been driving for years, Vihaan!"
"And now you don't have to."
I gasped again, deeply offended by his logic. "That is not how this works!"
He did not react to my outrage.
Instead, he took out his phone.
"Vihaan, what are you doing?"
"Calling security." He said, his eyes twinkling, like he was kidding. OF COURSE HE WAS!
"For what?!"
"To make sure you don't leave without me."
I stared at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was actually serious.
"You are impossible," I muttered, hands now shoved into my blazer pockets, resisting the overwhelming urge to throw something at him.
He nodded, completely satisfied with himself. "I hear that a lot."
"It was not a compliment, sir, if you are under any delusion." I snapped.
He finally smirked, stepping toward his car and opening the passenger door for me.
"Get in, Sunshine." he murmured, the absolute audacity of his satisfaction radiating off him.
I stared at him. He had already won, just for TODAY.
I knew that I could argue for another thirty minutes, but we both knew that would end with me sitting in his car anyway today, sulking. Might as well speed up the process.
With a dramatic sigh, I walked toward the car, slid into the passenger seat, and pointedly ignored the victorious glint in his eyes as he shut the door behind me.
"One thing sir, if you enter the office with me, I am not, absolutely not going to talk to you for the rest of this week and a small reminder, today's Monday." I threatened him. I don't know where this confidence of threatening my boss was coming from but it was there.
His fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel, his small smile still lingering like a man who knew he had won.
I huffed, crossing my arms, staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the absolute satisfaction radiating off him.
"I'm serious," I muttered. "Don't walk in with me."
"Noted," he said smoothly, turning onto the main road.
I frowned. That was too easy.
"Noted as in? You actually won't?"
He glanced at me, expression unreadable. "Noted as in, I have heard your demand."
That was not reassuring.
I narrowed my eyes. "Vihaan."
His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, voice calm. "I'm going to enter the office whenever I want, Shivanya."
"But not with me." I insisted, desperately clinging to this one shred of control in my life.
He tilted his head, considering. "You think anyone doesn't already know?"
I blinked. "Know what?"
A pause. Then, smoothly -
"That you're my wife."
I froze.
He had to say it like that?
Casual. Firm. Unapologetic.
Like he wasn't the one falling apart over the reality of it, like he wasn't sitting in his ridiculously luxurious car thinking about how strange it was that we had ended up here together, despite years of his polite avoidance.
"You...." I swallowed. "I just....I don't want people talking."
Vihaan sighed, deep, like I was missing something painfully obvious.
"Sunshine," he murmured, turning onto the road leading to Raichand & Associates, "people have always talked."
I sat rigid in my seat.
Of course they had. The entire legal fraternity had been whispering ever since Vihaan Raichand, the elusive, brilliant lawyer married his employee after barely acknowledging her existence for three years.
I knew the questions.
Why her? Why now? How did this happen? How'd she end up marrying him, she isn't even pretty, she's fat....blah blah blah.
I was asking myself the same thing.
Vihaan pulled up to the main entrance, and before I could react, he unbuckled my seatbelt for me.
I swatted his hands away. "I can do that myself!"
His lips twitched. "I know."
But he didn't move back immediately. His fingers brushed against my wrist, brief, fleeting, but intentional.
I felt every single second of it.
I yanked the seatbelt off, opened the door with more force than necessary, and practically launched myself onto the pavement.
Vihaan stepped out, slow, adjusting his cuffs.
And that's when I saw it.
The office floor-to-ceiling windows.
The number of heads turning.
The whispers from inside.
I wanted to evaporate.
I turned sharply, pointing a finger at him. "You did that on purpose!"
He did not look sorry.
I didn't wait for him. I marched inside the building without looking back, without acknowledging the way every single person had now officially gotten the confirmation they wanted.
Yes. Mrs. Shivanya Vihaan Raichand had arrived.
And she was furious.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Returning to Raichand & Associates after marriage should've felt routine. After all, I had worked here for three years, known these halls, these desks, these people. But today it was different.
The second I stepped inside, I felt it.
The stares. The whispers. The way conversations paused just for a second as I walked past, before resuming in hushed tones, their voices too low to catch but loud enough to know I was the subject of discussion.
Fantastic.
I ignored them. Straightened my shoulders, kept my chin up, and willed my legs to keep moving toward my cabin.
Once inside, I exhaled, setting my bag down. Work. Focus on work, Shivanya.
I had barely logged into my system when my phone buzzed.
A message.
Vihaan: Sunshine, why do you look like you're plotting my murder?
I closed my eyes, exhaling sharply. I could feel his eyes on me through my cabin glass door. He was standing right there.
I typed back, fingers moving way too aggressively.
Me: Because I am.
A single-word response arrived.
Vihaan: Cute.
I gritted my teeth. Was it possible to strangle someone through a text?
Wait, when did I get violent? Yikes Shivanya.
Before I could even begin mentally preparing for whatever ridiculous interaction was coming next, he simply walked away towards the elevator to get to his office probably. Thank god it was on a different floor.
I could work in peace and without distractions.
I was working on a compliance case around noon when my phone buzzed again.
Vihaan: Come to my office.
I blinked.
Me: No.
Another message instantly appeared.
Vihaan: Fine.
I frowned. That was way too easy.
Then, a knock on my cabin door.
Of course.
I didn't even have time to pretend to be busy before the door swung open, without waiting for my permission.
Vihaan stepped inside.
I stared at him, half-scandalized, half-exasperated.
"Ever heard of knocking and waiting for an answer?" I demanded.
Vihaan tilted his head, unfazed. "I did knock."
I crossed my arms. "And waiting?"
He shrugged. "Didn't feel necessary."
I glared. He just smirked, stepping further inside like he belonged here, like he wasn't violating my personal space in the most frustratingly effortless way possible.
"You should get used to this." he remarked, utterly calm, adjusting the cuff of his blazer.
I frowned. "Used to what?"
Vihaan's lips twitched, eyes flicking briefly around my cabin. "Being interrupted by me."
I stared. "This is my workspace, sir."
His eyes flicked to mine, quiet, searching, unreadable and completely ignoring my weak attempt at boundaries.
"You're my wife," he murmured, voice low, but warm, like the words settled somewhere deep. "That means I get to interrupt."
I opened my mouth, ready to fight back, but the problem was that I had nothing to say.
This was going to be a long week.
I opened my mouth, fully prepared to shut down whatever ridiculous logic Vihaan had just laid out, but before I could, he stepped even closer.
The audacity.
My desk separated us, but that didn't matter, because Vihaan had this incredible talent for shrinking space between us without lifting a single finger.
"You look tense," he murmured, eyes sharp, studying me like he could read every single thought circling in my brain.
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I wonder why."
His lips twitched.
The worst part? He looked pleased.
Like he liked this reaction from me, like annoying me was his new favorite hobby, like he had been waiting to be able to do this after years of professional distance.
I refused to acknowledge how warm the cabin had suddenly gotten.
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm very busy, sir."
"You're avoiding me."
I blinked. "I am not."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on my desk, completely ignoring my attempt at keeping this conversation professional.
"Liar."
I hated how that single word sent my pulse into full panic mode.
I cleared my throat. "Do you need something?"
Vihaan looked unbothered, but I could see it. That quiet amusement flickering behind his gaze, the thrill of watching me struggle to pretend this was fine.
"Lunch."
I blinked. "Lunch?"
"With me."
I stared at him like he had just spoken a foreign language.
"Sir, I have work."
"And I have patience," he said smoothly. "We'll see which one wins."
I was going to lose, again.
I sighed, rubbing my temples, staring at the problem in front of me—which was, unfortunately, a person.
A very persistent, very annoying, very unbothered problem named Vihaan Raichand.
"Sir, I have work," I tried again, hoping that maybe this time, he'd back down.
He did not.
Instead, he leaned slightly against my desk, far too relaxed, adjusting his cuff as if this was his cabin and not mine.
"You always have work," he murmured, voice low, controlled, but somehow warm, like the words settled too close to my chest.
I swallowed, willing my heartbeat to behave.
"That's kind of the point of a job," I muttered, staring intensely at my laptop screen, refusing to acknowledge how close he was standing.
Vihaan hummed, studying me quietly, before saying something so simple yet so devastating—
"Then I'll just wait."
I blinked. "Wait?"
He nodded, entirely serious. "I'll wait until you're done."
My stomach twisted. That was not fair.
That meant he wasn't giving up. That meant he would stay here, in my space, watching me, until I eventually caved.
And that meant I would have to somehow pretend he wasn't affecting me.
I exhaled, adjusting my posture, trying not to notice how his gaze lingered on the movement.
"Sir how do you not have any work? Aren't you like the owner of this firm or something?" I asked, my voice calmer, but not quite steady.
Vihaan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he held my gaze, tilting his head slightly, like he was enjoying the fact that I was finally engaging instead of avoiding.
"I delegate," he said simply, adjusting the cuff of his blazer like he had all the time in the world to linger in my space.
I scoffed. "That doesn't explain why you're here, bothering me."
Vihaan hummed, fingers tracing the edge of my desk absently, like he belonged here, like he wasn't in my cabin, throwing my entire morning off track.
"You're my wife," he said, like it was the most logical reason in the world.
I blinked rapidly. "That is not an answer, Vihaan."
He smirked slightly, but there was something quietly serious about the way his eyes flicked between mine.
"I make time for things that matter."
I froze, staring at him like he had just casually dropped a bomb in the middle of our conversation.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Too many seconds.
The air in my cabin felt thicker than before, the silence stretching between us too comfortably, like he was watching me process his words, waiting for me to understand them.
I swallowed. "Work, sir. I have work."
Vihaan didn't look convinced.
But thankfully, miraculously he didn't push further.
Instead, he exhaled softly, took a step back, giving me space, like he hadn't just dismantled all my defenses with one simple sentence.
"Alright," he murmured, smooth, adjusting his watch before turning to leave. "I'll wait."
I blinked. "Wait?"
He glanced over his shoulder, completely unbothered. "Lunch, Sunshine. You already lost."
And then he walked out.
Leaving me staring at the door, completely, utterly, hopelessly thrown off balance.
I stared at the door.
He had just casually declared that I had already lost and then walked away, leaving me alone in my cabin, heart pounding, brain short-circuiting.
I let out a sharp exhale, pressing my palms against my desk, trying to regain control over my thoughts.
Lunch. Lunch with him.
How had I gotten myself into this situation?
Oh right....I married him!!
I glanced at the clock, half-hoping the universe would intervene and make time disappear, but of course it didn't.
Thirty minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
Vihaan: Five minutes. Don't be late.
I rolled my eyes, typing back quickly.
Me: I'm not coming.
Three seconds passed.
Then, another text.
Vihaan: You are.
I let out a small groan, glaring at my screen like it was personally responsible for ruining my day.
And yet somehow I still stood up.
Still grabbed my phone.
Still left my cabin, heart loud against my ribs, as I stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed.
When they opened, I was on his floor.
Vihaan's office was larger than life, sleek, sophisticated, exactly what I expected from the most sought-after corporate lawyer in the country.
But I barely had time to take it in before I noticed something else.
He was watching me.
Standing near his desk, arms crossed, gaze steady, like he had been waiting for me the entire time.
Something warm settled in my chest, dangerously familiar but entirely foreign.
"Sunshine," he murmured, quiet amusement in his tone.
"You're impossible," I muttered, stepping inside.
His lips twitched again but it was not quite a smile, but something close, something only for me and I didn't know what to feel.
"Sit," he instructed, gesturing toward the small dining setup near the window.
I raised an eyebrow. "You ordered?"
Vihaan shrugged, walking past me, his proximity sending my heartbeat into full panic mode.
"Italian." he admitted, voice easy, warm, as he pulled out a chair for me.
I blinked rapidly, like the gesture itself was something incomprehensible.
He noticed.
And then he smirked, eyes flicking over my expression before he murmured, soft.
"I take care of what's mine, Shivanya."
My stomach flipped while I couldn't take my eyes away from his, they were locking into mine and once again, I didn't know what to feel but what I did know was that there was heat crossing my cheeks and his lips were curving into a small smile and then, then I blinked.
I blinked rapidly, forcing my gaze to drop to the meal in front of me, pretending I hadn't just caught that smile, the one only I seemed to get, the one that made something dangerous flicker in my chest.
Vihaan didn't say anything.
He just settled into his chair across from me, completely calm, completely unaffected, like this wasn't messing with my entire nervous system.
Like it was natural to have me in his office, sitting with him, having lunch.
I cleared my throat, grabbing my fork, determined to do something besides let my mind spiral because this was all too unusual.
The pasta looked....perfect.
I knew he had ordered it himself, probably hand-picked the restaurant, because Vihaan didn't do things halfway, not even something as simple as food.
I was about to take a bite when his hand moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
My breath hitched as he reached forward, casually lifting a bite of pasta with his own fork, eyes steady.
And then he held it out to me.
I froze.
My pulse stuttered, chest suddenly tight, because was this happening?
Why was this happening?
My throat closed up, but I somehow managed to speak. "What are you doing?"
Vihaan's expression didn't shift, didn't falter, completely calm.
"Feeding you," he murmured, like the statement was obvious, like it didn't send my entire system into full shutdown mode.
I blinked rapidly, leaning back slightly. "I can eat myself."
His lips twitched in not quite a smirk, but something close, something teasing.
"I know," he murmured. "But you didn't last night."
My stomach flipped.
Oh.
Oh, he noticed.
Dinner. The way I had barely eaten because I was so full with the bread rolls Maa had made with the evening coffee. The way he had noticed so easily, so effortlessly, like it was second nature for him to watch over me.
I swallowed hard, my entire being struggling against whatever was happening in this moment.
Vihaan tilted his head, waiting.
Not pushing.
Just waiting.
And that, that was worse.
Because it meant the choice was mine.
I did open my mouth.
He didn't react, didn't make it a thing. He just made me eat but did not stop looking at me with that thing in his eyes.
What thing? I don't know but I knew enough to know that this was my first.
Enough for my breath to catch.
Enough for me to forget how to think properly.
Enough for me to know, in this exact moment, that I was in real trouble.
I chewed slowly, swallowing, avoiding his gaze as I picked up my own fork, desperate to do something besides sit here, feeling things I wasn't ready for.
But Vihaan, he was still watching me.
Soft.
Steady.
Completely aware.
Like he already knew what I wasn't ready to admit.
I hated that.
I hated that he always saw the parts of me I tried to hide.
And the worst part?
I wanted him to keep looking.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: ZingTruyen.Xyz