The words struck him like sparks against dry wood. Her tone was alive with a mixture of jealousy, hurt, and suspicion. Though Arnav could hardly decipher which burned stronger. He had never fully understood the labyrinth of a woman’s heart, and now, with her carrying his child, her emotions felt even sharper, more volatile, capable of cutting him before he even saw the blade.
His appetite faltered. The food in front of him, once warm and inviting, now felt like an afterthought. Slowly, he lifted his gaze and met his wife’s eyes, letting the weight of his breath carry the first hint of surrender.
So this was what Arsene meant, when he said that sometimes, the past would demand to be spoken aloud. Perhaps this was that very moment, inevitable and unavoidable.
“I bought it,” Arnav began sl
