The Professor's Bride

The days blurred together. Everything was back to normal.

Breakfasts with her family.
Shopping trips with her mother.
Lavish parties filled with familiar faces.

And yet—nothing felt right.
Ananya tried. She really did.

She smiled when she was supposed to.
Laughed at the jokes she used to find funny.
Dressed in the finest designer outfits, surrounded by wealth and comfort.

But something was missing.

She didn't like the way her room felt too perfect.
She missed the uneven stone floors of the haveli.

She didn't like the sound of empty socialite conversations.
She missed the playful arguments and deep silences with Virat.

She didn't like how everything here was so polished, so predictable.
She missed the unpredictability of him.

And no matter how much she tried to ignore it—

The ache in her chest never went away.

Back in the village, Virat buried himself in work.
He left early, stayed at the school until long after dark.
If he was busy, he didn't have to think.
Didn't have to remember her voice in the haveli, the way she laughed at his seriousness, the way she made his empty house feel like something close to home.

The villagers noticed.

"Bhabhi ji left, and now sir doesn't even eat properly."

"He never used to talk much, but now it's worse."

"He looks tired all the time."

Virat ignored them.
What else was he supposed to do?
She had made her choice.
She had walked away.
And he had let her.
So why—why did it still hurt?
Why did he still turn toward the door at night, expecting to hear her footsteps?
Why did he still look for her in the places she used to be?
Why did everything still feel so wrong?
He exhaled, gripping his pen tighter.
He needed to move on.
Needed to forget.
Because she already had.
Hadn't she?

Back in USA

Richard was exactly how she remembered.
Charming.
Well-dressed.
A perfect gentleman.
He picked her up in his luxury car, took her to the finest restaurants.

He talked about business, about travel plans, about how he had missed her.

And Ananya?

She smiled.

Laughed at the right moments.

Sipped her expensive wine and nodded at his words.

Because this was what she wanted.

Right?

This was what she had been waiting for.

This was the life she had dreamed of.

So then why—why did it feel so... empty?

"You seem distracted."

Ananya looked up, blinking. "What?"

Richard tilted his head, studying her. "You're quieter than usual."

She forced a smile. "I'm just tired."

Richard reached for her hand across the table, gentle, careful.

Too careful.

Too soft compared to the calloused warmth of someone else's touch.

"Do you need more time?" Richard asked. "I don't want to rush you, Ananya."

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes.