The interior of the car was a vacuum of sound, save for the rhythmic hum of the tires against the asphalt. The city lights of Mumbai blurred into long, golden streaks against the window, but neither of them was looking at the view. Divyash’s hands were gripped tight at ten and two on the steering wheel, his knuckles still a pale, ghostly white.
Beside him, Avni felt the silence like a physical weight on her chest. The air was still charged with the electricity of that dance floor confrontation—the memory of his hand on her waist, the sudden, sharp territorialism he had displayed against Rajveer. It was a side of Divyash she rarely saw. Usually, he was the calm center of her storm, the man who calculated stresses and loads in steel beams, not the man who marked his territory in a room full of sharks.
"You’re driving faster than usual," Avni said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Divyash didn't slow down. "I just want to get home, Avi."
"Is it because of what happened at the party? Or because of what we saw in the parking lot?"
Divyash let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Both. Neither. I don't know." He signaled a turn with more force than necessary. "Rajveer was looking at you like you were a line item on a ledger he was looking to acquire. It made my skin crawl."
Avni shifted in her seat, the silk of her saree rustling. "I can handle men like Rajveer, Divyash. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s part of the job."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it," he snapped, then immediately softened his tone, glancing at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road. "And then there’s Vivek. The 'intern'? Since when does Vivek get flustered? My brother has argued before the High Court without breaking a sweat, but tonight he looked like a teenager caught sneaking out."
"He looked happy," Avni noted. "Terrified, but happy."
"He looked like he was hiding something," Divyash countered. "And in our family, secrets usually come with a heavy price tag."
When they finally pulled into their driveway and the engine cut out, the silence that followed was even heavier. They walked into the room in a sort of synchronized trance. Divyash shed his tuxedo jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa, and began unbuttoning his vest.
Avni watched him from the doorway of the living room. The "controlled" version of him was fraying at the edges.
"Divyash," she called out. He stopped, his fingers hovering over a button. "Can you help me with the dori again?"
Her voice was soft, cutting through the quiet hum of the bedroom. The request hit Divyash with a sudden, sharp reminder of the distance he had tried to maintain all evening—a distance that was rapidly evaporating.
"Of course," he managed, his voice slightly rough. "Turn around."
Avni obeyed, her movements fluid as she swept her hair over one shoulder to clear his path. Divyash found himself caught in a familiar, agonizing loop: the ache of wanting to be near her clashing with the fear of overstepping. He worked with deliberate slowness, his fingers navigating the delicate silk ties. He was acutely aware of the pale expanse of her skin and that singular, captivating mole near her shoulder. With every passing second, the invisible wall of his self-control grew thinner, threatened by the simple, rhythmic pull of the thread.
Unable to help himself—just for a heartbeat—his fingertips brushed the small of her back. The contact was electric, a millisecond of pure heat that made him pull his hand back instantly, clenching it at his side.
"It’s done," he said, stepping back to create a safe pocket of air between them.
Avni stayed still for a moment before turning. "It’s done," she repeated, almost like an echo. "I... I should probably go change in bhai's room. You should get out of that suit and into something more comfortable, too."
He turned to make a quick exit, the sudden need for space driving him toward the door, but he felt a light, firm pressure on his wrist. Avni had caught his hand, her touch mirroring the way she had reached for him that morning.
"Divyash."
He stopped, trapped by the look in her eyes.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Having you there... it made the whole thing more than just bearable. It made it okay."
Before he could respond, she leaned in. She pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek—so close to the corner of his mouth that he could feel the ghost of her breath.
Divyash felt his voice desert him entirely. He searched for his composure, finding only a fragment of it. "I’m your husband, Avni," he said, the words a promise as much as an explanation. "If I’m not the one standing by you, then who is?"
Spurred by a sudden, uncharacteristic burst of courage, he leaned down and returned the gesture, his lips brushing her cheek with a tenderness that surprised them both. Then, as if realizing what he had just done, he pivoted and practically bolted from the room, retreating toward the safety of his brother’s quarters.
Avni stood in the center of the room, listening to his retreating footsteps. She raised a hand, her fingers tracing the exact spot where his lips had touched her skin. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face.
"He really is damn cute sometimes," she murmured to the empty room, before turning toward the washroom to finally shed the weight of the evening.
The next morning, the sun was far too bright for Divyash’s liking. He woke up with a singular While Avni was still asleep, he dressed in casual jeans and a hoodie—a stark contrast to the previous night’s armor—and drove toward Vivek’s office.
Vivek’s firm was located in a heritage building that smelled of old paper and expensive espresso. As Divyash walked through the glass doors, he saw the usual bustle of junior associates, but his eyes were searching for one person in particular.
He found her at a small desk tucked away near the archives. Kajal. She was buried under a mountain of case files, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She looked younger in the daylight, less like a "party crasher" and more like someone drowning in work.
"Miss Mehra?"
She jumped, nearly knocking over a stack of folders. "Mr. Singh! I mean... Divyash. You’re Vivek sir’s brother. I... is he expecting you?"
"No," Divyash said, leaning against the doorframe. "I was just in the neighborhood. Hard at work for an intern, aren't you? It’s a Saturday."
Kajal’s face went pale, then bright red. "There’s a lot of filing to do. Vivek... Mr. Singh is very particular about his records."
Before he could probe further, Vivek’s office door swung open. Vivek stood there, looking exhausted, his tie loosened. He froze when he saw his brother.
"Divyash? What are you doing here?"
"Checking on my big brother," Divyash said, stepping past Kajal into the office. "And maybe getting the real story about the parking lot."
Vivek closed the door behind him and leaned against it, rubbing his temples. "I knew you wouldn't let it go. You always were the most observant one in the family. It’s why you’re a better engineer than a lawyer."
"Stop stalling, Vivek. She’s not just an intern, is she?"
Vivek sighed, a long, weary sound. He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, looking smaller than usual. "Her name is Kajal. And yes, she is technically an intern. But she’s also the daughter of the lead witness in the Khosla case."
Divyash’s blood went cold. The Khosla case was a massive corporate fraud suit that their father’s firm was defending. If Vivek was involved with the daughter of the opposition’s star witness, it wasn't just a scandal—it was a professional suicide mission.
"Are you insane?" Divyash whispered. "If Dad finds out, he won't just disown you. He’ll have you disbarred."
"I’m not 'involved' with her like that," Vivek defended, though his eyes betrayed him. "She’s in danger, Divu. Her father is being pressured to change his testimony. I’m... I’m keeping her close to make sure she’s safe. The firm doesn't know. Nobody knows."
"Except now I do," Divyash said, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
"I need you to keep this from Avni, too," Vivek pleaded. "She’s brilliant, but she’s also a businesswoman. She has ties to the people involved in this case. If she knows, she’s legally obligated to report a conflict of interest."
Divyash felt a pang of guilt. He had just told Avni the night before that there were no secrets between them. And now, less than twelve hours later, he was being asked to carry a burden that could destroy his brother’s life and potentially compromise his wife’s career.
"You’re putting me in a hell of a spot, Vivek," Divyash said, his voice grim.
"I’m putting you in the only spot I can," Vivek replied. "You’re the only one I trust to be objective. Everyone else in this family sees the world in black and white—guilty or innocent. You see the structures. You see how things are built. I need you to help me keep this structure from collapsing."
Divyash drove back home in a daze. The world felt different now. The sleek, polished surfaces of their life—the parties, the tuxedos, the business deals—felt like a thin veneer over something much darker and more complicated.
When he walked into the kitchen, Avni was sitting at the breakfast nook, a cup of tea in her hand and her laptop open. She looked up, her expression warm and relaxed, a far cry from the "Ice Queen" she had to be at work.
"Where did you go so early?" she asked.
Divyash looked at her—the woman he loved, the woman who had stood by him as he carved out a path away from his family’s shadow. He thought about Vivek’s plea. He thought about the "intern" buried in files.
"Just to the office," Divyash lied, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. "Needed to check on a project."
Avni narrowed her eyes slightly, her intuition—the same one that made her a master negotiator—flaring up. "Everything okay?"
Divyash walked over and kissed the top of her head, hoping she couldn't hear the frantic beat of his heart. "Everything is fine, Avi. Just a little stress from the work"
But as he turned to pour himself a cup of coffee, he knew the "control" he had fought so hard for was about to be tested in a way he never imagined. The structures were shaking, and for the first time in his life, he wasn't
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