The Stranger's Wife

chapter-19

Aaira tossed and turned on her bed, hugging her pillow as if it could anchor her scattered thoughts. Sleep felt like a stranger tonight. Every time she closed her eyes, Arthur’s face appeared — that amused smirk when she hugged him at the mall, the warmth in his gaze when he looked at her, the way he teased her last night. Her heart raced as she remembered how she’d run away like a frightened little girl, leaving him standing there in the dark.

“What’s wrong with you, Aaira?” she whispered to herself, pressing the pillow harder towards her chest. “Why are you so scared?”

She stared at the ceiling until her vision blurred. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she wasn’t scared of Arthur — she was scared of herself, scared of what she was beginning to feel.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” she promised softly, biting her lip. “I’ll tell him I’m not running away anymore.”

And with that silent vow, she drifted into a restless sleep.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through her curtains like a soft invitation. That day had started, Aaira woke up smiling. Her heart thudded with nervous excitement.

She carefully chose a pale lavender dress that hugged her waist just right. She put on light makeup, a hint of kajal to brighten her tired eyes, and spritzed her favourite perfume behind her ears. As she looked at her reflection, she caught herself smiling shyly.

“What are you doing, Aaira? You look like a teenager going to meet her crush.”

But she didn’t stop.

When she reached the mansion, her steps quickened as though her heart was pulling her forward. She went straight to Arthur’s study, hoping to catch him there.

The room was empty.

Her smile faltered, but she brushed it off. Maybe he was in his room. She climbed the stairs, her heels clicking softly against the polished wood, and stopped at his door.

Knock.

Silence.

She knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. She opened the door only to find a neat and clean room.

Her chest tightened. Where could he be?

She turned and hurried downstairs, deciding to ask Grandma Black. She found her in the garden, sipping tea under the shade of the old oak tree.

“Good morning, Grandma,” Aaira greeted politely, trying to hide her restlessness.

“Good morning, dear,” Grandma replied warmly. “Come, sit. Have some tea with me.”

Aaira sat down, her eyes darting toward every corner of the garden, as if Arthur might appear from behind a tree.

“You look distracted,” Grandma said, narrowing her wise eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Aaira lied quickly. “I was just… wondering where everyone was. The house feels so quiet.”

Grandma smiled knowingly. “Looking for Arthur, are you?”

Aaira’s head snapped toward her, her cheeks burning. “No! I was just asking because it’s so silent today. That’s all.”

“Mm-hmm,” Grandma hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Arthur left early this morning. He had a 4 a.m. flight back to New York.”

Aaira froze.

The words hit her like cold water. She blinked rapidly, trying to hide the sting in her eyes. “Oh,” she said softly. “I… I didn’t know.”

“He didn’t tell you?” "He was in a hurry when he left," Grandma said gently.

Aaira shook her head, forcing a smile. “No. I suppose he was busy.”

Inside, she felt a mixture of anger and disappointment. They had spent the entire day together yesterday — laughing, shopping, sharing little moments that felt almost magical. And yet, he hadn’t told her he was leaving.

“You fool,” she muttered under her breath as she stood up abruptly. “He’s a celebrity. This is his life. Why would he bother telling you?”

She turned to leave, her chest heavy, but Grandma called after her.

“Oh, Aaira! Wait — Arthur said if you came, I should tell you to check his study. He left something for you there.”

Aaira’s heart skipped a beat.

Without another word, she almost ran into the house. Her breath was coming in short bursts by the time she entered the study.

And there, right in the middle of the table, was a single white envelope.

Her hands trembled as she reached for it. Slowly, carefully, she opened it — and gasped.

Inside was an appointment letter.

Not just any appointment letter — it was from one of the biggest event management companies in the UK.

Her dream job.

She scanned the words again and again, unable to believe her eyes. And then she noticed the small handwritten note tucked inside.

“This is the first step toward your dreams. Best of luck. – Arthur.”

Her vision blurred.

She pressed the letter to her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was happy — overwhelmed, really — but beneath that happiness was a strange, sharp ache.

Why did it feel like goodbye?

Why did it hurt so much that he hadn’t stayed to see her reaction?

She sat down on the chair, her fingers brushing over his handwriting again and again, as if she could feel him through the ink.

“Why are you doing this to me, Arthur?” she whispered. “Why do you make it so hard to stay away?”

She buried her face in her hands and cried silently until her shoulders ached.

Hours later, she was still sitting there, the letter lying open on the table. Her emotions were a storm — gratitude, longing, anger, fear.

Part of her wanted to call him right away, to tell him thank you, to tell him she didn’t want the letter, she just wanted him.

But another part of her screamed, No! Don’t be foolish. You can’t afford to feel this way. You can’t risk getting hurt again.

The silence of the study was deafening.

That night, Aaira sat by her window, staring out at the stars. Somewhere far away, Arthur was probably on a set, surrounded by cameras, lights, and fans.

Did he think of her at all?

She hugged her knees, tears slipping down her face once more.

to be continued...