Isha's POV

I stood in the kitchen, looking outside the window, a small smile playing on my lips. For the first time, I felt truly good and secure in his house. I never thought he would stand up for me against his brother. I thought he didn’t care—but I was wrong. He cared. He truly did.

"Isha…" my thoughts broke as I heard his voice. My smile widened, but I didn’t turn to him. Just hearing my name on his lips made butterflies dance in my stomach.

"Are you okay?" His concerned voice made me close my eyes, and my face broke into a big grin. Today, I felt… truly happy. Knowing my husband was there to protect me, to save me from any harm, knowing he cared—it filled my heart with a strong, unfamiliar warmth.

"Isha…" he called again. This time, I could feel him right behind me. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. Suddenly, I turned to him and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. His body stiffened, but I was too lost in the moment to notice.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for standing up for me. Thank you," I mumbled into his chest, feeling comforted in my husband’s arms, even though he didn’t hug me back. For this moment, I didn’t care.

"It’s… it’s okay," he said, holding my arms and gently pulling me away. I stepped back as a blush crept onto my cheeks. He stared at me before adding, "You don’t need to thank me. Agar tumhari jaga koi aur bhi hota, mai yahi karta. (If anyone else were in your place, I would have done the same for her as well)."

My smile faltered.

"Mai… mai koi bhi hun Apke liye? (Am I just anyone to you?)" I asked innocently. He looked away.

"Your member of this house. Nothing less, nothing more," he said before walking out of the kitchen.

I stood there with a broken heart.

---

Arshad's POV

The moment she hugged me, something inside me stirred, and I didn’t like it. Her face was glowing, her innocent eyes holding so many emotions. She was immature. Her heart would fall for anyone who showed her a little affection. And that was exactly what was happening. My care for her was making her fall for me—and falling for me would only bring her pain. I didn’t want that for her. She was already going through so much. I didn’t want her to dream of something impossible. It was better if she remembered reality.

A few days passed, and I tried my best to avoid her. Though I drove her to and from college, I avoided conversations. Often, I buried myself in calls while driving—wrong, I knew—but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. I just couldn’t.

Like always, today I was driving her home while on a call with my manager. She stared out of the window quietly.

After hanging up, I focused on driving until I heard her voice:

"Aap mujhse naraz hai? (Are you mad at me?)" She asked innocently, looking at me.

I glanced at her and shook my head.

"Why would I?"

"Pata nahi. Shayad Maine kuch kiya ho jo aap mujhse baat nahi karte (I don’t know, maybe I did something, that’s why you aren’t talking to me)," she said, shrugging.

"Tumne kuch nahi kiya, Isha. It’s just that hamare beech baat karne ke liye kuch nahi hai (You didn’t do anything, Isha. There’s just nothing to talk about between us)," I replied coldly.

She stayed quiet after that and got out of the car as soon as we reached home. I knew I was being rude, but it was better for her. She shouldn’t fall for me…

Only if I knew she already had. And that too, very deeply.

---

It was Sunday again, and I felt a strange happiness because my lovely wife had promised to make breakfast. I went to the kitchen and saw Sofia preparing cheese omelette with toast—the easiest and only thing she could make perfectly. I smiled and walked closer. My heart warmed every time she did something for me. She hardly did anything, but I didn’t mind—I knew her nature before marriage.

Standing behind her, I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling my face into her neck.

"Good morning, baby," I murmured, kissing her neck.

"Arshad, I’m doing something," she said, trying to push me away. I didn’t let her. I stood there, letting her wiggle, until she finished and turned to me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"So, mister is in a romantic mood today?" she asked with a smirk.

"This mister is always in a romantic mood. You’re the one who always spoils it," I said, pouting. Sofia wasn’t shy or romantic—she was practical, bold… I wasn’t sure.

"Oh, my dear husband has complaints, I see," she teased, moving closer. Our lips met in a passionate kiss. She tugged my hair as I spun, leaning back against the counter, her standing in front of me. I pulled her closer, nearly resting her weight on me.

I was lost in Sofia until I felt a familiar, intense gaze. My eyes opened, meeting Isha’s broken, tear-stained face. She stood frozen, wide-eyed, tears streaming. My eyes widened; my movements stopped instantly. Sofia stepped back and quickly ran out of the kitchen before seeing her.

"What happens?" Sofia asked, confused. I looked at Isha, shook my head, and said, "No… nothing… we’re in the kitchen; we forgot it," walking out.

God, what is happening to me? Seeing Isha made me feel guilty, yet looking at Sofia made me feel like I was betraying her. Where the hell had I gotten myself? I gritted my teeth and walked into my room.

---

During breakfast and lunch, I didn’t see Isha, though she had prepared the meals. I wanted to see her… I didn’t know why. So here I was, standing outside her room. I knocked, but when there was no response, I walked in. She was standing near the window, leaning her head against it, her back to me.

"Isha…" Her body tensed. After rubbing her hands over her face, she turned to me.

"What happened to you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. She looked away.

"No… nothing," she stammered. I could tell she had been crying.

"You were crying," I stated, and she shook her head.

"Isha… if you’re upset because of what you saw this morning, then you shouldn’t be," I said, stuttering slightly, cursing my weakness.

"I shouldn’t be?" she asked innocently, tears welling.

"She is my wife, Isha," I reasoned. She gave me a sad, broken smile.

"So am I," she whispered, a lone tear escaping as she turned away. I froze.

In almost two years, this was the first time Isha had called herself my wife. We had hidden it from everyone; we had never acknowledged each other openly. Hearing her say it made something stir inside me—a recognition I had never felt before.

I stood there, realizing… she was my secret wife.

"What are you talking about? You know how it happens, and we’ve already discussed it. How could you mention this?" I asked, frustrated—not at her, but at myself.

"However it happened, it happened! I’m… YOU ARE WIFE. Neither you can change this nor can I. No one changes the fact that I’m your wife!" she said angrily, standing close. "Can’t you accept me? Can’t you give me the rights I have on you?" My eyes widened at her boldness.

"Isha… you… you can’t go against your words. You promised me you wouldn’t…" I began panicking, afraid she might reveal the truth and ruin Sofia’s and my marriage.

"Darien mat. Marte dam tak apna muh nahi kholungi. Wada kiya tha na. Apna wada nibhaungi. Apki Shadi nahi tutne dungi main Sofia baaji se. (Don’t be scared. I won’t open my mouth till my death. I’ve promised; I will keep it. I won’t let your marriage with Sofia baaji break)," she cut me off, making me feel relieved inside. "Aap itna sochte ho Sofia baaji ke bare me, mera khayal nahi aata? (You think about Sofia baaji too much. Don’t you think about me?)"

"Tumhe sab kuch pata hai. Pehle din se tum sab jaanti ho to phir ab kyun? (You know everything from the beginning, then why now?)" I asked, unsure of myself.

"Jaanti hun. That’s why I don’t want to take Sofia baaji’s place. I just want to make my own small place. I will never ask for more, just a little love and support. I don’t even want equal rights. You can give Sofia baaji 90% of you, and I will be happy to take 10%. But please, give me something," she said, resting her head on my chest.

My heart raced like crazy. I was in a dilemma. I didn’t know what to say or do. She looked tired and broken, and I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. And to top it off, my heart was betraying me. I didn’t want this, so why was it happening?

---

Isha's POV

He held my arms and pulled me away again, staring at my face for a long moment.

"I can’t give you what you want. I love Sofia; she is my wife, and I won’t betray her. You need to forget all this. You’re only hurting yourself, Isha," he said, moving away.

"If Sofia baaji is your wife, then I’m also your wife. Giving me my rights doesn’t mean you’re betraying her. And as for your betrayal—you betrayed her the moment you accepted me in your nikah," I said, my words spilling out. I was hurt, alone. I needed him.

His head snapped toward me, eyes widening. He clenched his jaw, anger flashing in his eyes. Suddenly, he gripped my arms, making me gasp.

"Don’t forget that I did that only to save you. You can’t use that against me. If you think saying all this will make me accept you, you are wrong. Totally wrong. I won’t accept you. Did you hear me? I. WON’T. ACCEPT. YOU!"

He pushed me away and stormed out, leaving me numb.

What had I done? I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. I held my head and sat on the floor. What was I thinking? What was I doing? It was wrong. I knew it. How could I blame him? He saved me, and I blamed him in return.

But can you really blame me? It was so painful—watching your husband give all his love to someone else while you could do nothing but swallow the sorrow and live with the pain.

A painful sob escaped my lips as I realized the truth. I had fallen for him. I loved him so much, but he could never be mine. I could never have him. And now my pain had multiplied tenfold. He was not just my husband… he was my love. My everything.

★★★★