AARVI: His Forced Wife

*Early update because someone like the earlier chapter too much*

CONTINUE...

Aarvi stepped out of the bathroom, fingers tightening around the towel as her eyes landed on the bed.
The stain was gone.
The sheet — changed.
And Vivan?

Nowhere.

Her pulse quickened. “Where did he—?”

She glanced at the clock — 2:45 a.m. The room felt emptier than it should have. A part of her wanted to thank him… another part just wanted to disappear from the embarrassment.

Deciding she couldn’t face him like this, she quietly slipped out of the room and padded down the corridor toward Prisha’s door.

The soft knock was answered a minute later by a sleepy, half-awake voice. “Bhabhi? Everything okay?”

Aarvi smiled faintly. “Uh— do you have pads?”

Prisha nodded and without another question she fetched a small packet from her drawer and handed it over. Aarvi mouthed a grateful “thank you” and hurried back toward her room, clutching it tightly.

But as she neared the door, she paused — peeking in through the small gap, to check whether he is there or not.
But he is not in the room.
She took a cautious step forward—

A light tap landed on her shoulder.

She froze, heart leaping.

Slowly, she turned around.

And there he was — Vivan — standing barely a step behind her, dressed in a loose black t-shirt, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a hot pack that still steamed faintly.

Her breath hitched.

He raised an eyebrow, expression calm but questioning, as if his look itself said, “Seriously? Wandering around at this hour?”

The embarrassment hit her like a wave. Aarvi’s cheeks flushed instantly as she clutched the pads tighter — the one thing she really didn’t want him to see.

But of course, he did. His eyes flickered downward briefly, noticing the packet, before returning to her face.

No reaction. No smirk. No teasing.
Just that quiet, composed voice of his.

“I see,” he said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking — if anything, it was matter-of-fact, almost gentle. “You should finish what you need to and then… use this.”

He extended the hot pack toward her.

For a moment, she couldn’t move — torn between mortification and the strange warmth curling in her chest.

He didn’t wait for a reply. Without another word, he placed the hot pack on the nightstand and turned toward the couch.

When Aarvi returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, the room was dimly lit and quiet — except for the soft rustle of the blanket as Vivan settled on the couch.

She blinked, confused. “Why are you sleeping there?”

He opened his eyes, one brow arching in faint amusement, a smirk playing on his lips. “So you want me to share bed?”

Her eyes widened instantly. “No—I mean, that’s not what I meant!” she stammered, words tumbling over each other. “I just— I thought—”

His lips curved, not quite a smile, but close enough to make her heart skip. “Relax, Mrs. Singhania. I’m not that heartless.”