The morning sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, landing gently on the unfamiliar bed they now shared.
Aanya stirred first.
Her eyes fluttered open and for a brief second—just one—she forgot everything. She blinked at the ceiling like it was her room back home.
Then she turned her head and saw him.
Armaan.
Lying a careful few inches away. Not touching. Not facing her.
But there.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back.
He didn't move.
> "Still pretending to be asleep?" she muttered under her breath.
But she didn't push it. Instead, she stood up and walked to the bathroom quietly.
Armaan opened his eyes as soon as the door shut.
He had heard her wake up.
He had felt the shift in the mattress when she moved.
And weirdly…
He liked it.
Not in a romantic way.
Just in a comforting way.
> "She didn't talk much last night," he thought, "but she said enough."
---
Downstairs in the dining area, the silence was… tense.
Armaan's mother had made breakfast and insisted they sit together like a "normal couple."
Aanya sat across from Armaan at the table, wearing a soft blue suit, fresh-faced, hair still wet.
He glanced at her for exactly two seconds longer than he meant to.
> "Did you sleep well, beta?" his mother asked cheerfully.
> "Yes, aunty—I mean… maa," Aanya corrected herself, awkwardly.
"It was a new bed, but very comfortable."
> "And Armaan?" she turned to her son.
He sipped his coffee like it was a strategy.
> "The couch was fine."
Aanya's fork paused.
Her eyes snapped to him.
> "Oh?" she said, too sweetly. "You ended up on the couch?"
> "Thought I'd give you more space," he replied without looking at her.
> "Or maybe you just ran away before I woke up."
> "I don't run from anything."
She smiled.
> "Except… emotions."
His mother blinked between the two of them, clearly sensing the undercurrent but too smart to get involved.
---
After breakfast, Aanya helped in the kitchen.
Armaan went to get ready for work.
He came down a while later, wearing a crisp shirt, blazer in hand.
Just as he passed by her to head out—
> "You forgot this," she said, holding his watch out.
He reached for it, their fingers brushing for a split second.
It was nothing.
But it felt like something.
> "Thanks," he muttered.
> "You're welcome," she smiled faintly. "Strangers help each other sometimes."
That word again. Strangers.
It stuck in his head as he walked out the door.
---
Later that day, Aanya was scrolling through her phone when a photo popped up.
Her cousin had posted a wedding pic.
There they were—her and Armaan—standing awkwardly side by side, barely smiling.
Someone had commented,
> "The couple looks so cute! But why does the groom look like he was forced? 😂"
She stared at it.
Her chest felt tight.
---
Meanwhile, Armaan was at work in a meeting.
But he couldn't focus.
All he could think about was the weird breakfast tension and the way she called him out—without being loud or angry.
It was frustrating.
She wasn't doing anything.
And yet she was getting under his skin.
He unlocked his phone to scroll for distraction, only to see the same wedding pic.
And the comment.
He frowned.
It wasn't the comment that annoyed him.
It was the expression on Aanya's face.
She looked like a stranger.
Like she was trying to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
> "Was she unhappy already?"
"Did she regret this?"
---
Back at home, Aanya was in the living room helping unpack her bags when her phone buzzed.
Armaan:
> "Delete that wedding picture."
She stared.
Then typed back.
Aanya:
> "It's not on my account."
Armaan:
> "Then ask your cousin to take it down."
Aanya:
> "Why? It's the truth, right? We do look like strangers who got married by accident."
No reply.
Aanya tossed the phone aside.
> "He can't handle a joke. Or the truth."
But what she didn't know was—Armaan wasn't silent out of anger.
He was confused.
Why did her sad smile bother him so much?
---
That night, he came home later than usual.
She was already in bed, reading.
> "Hey," he said softly, standing by the door. "About the picture…"
She looked up.
> "Don't worry. I asked my cousin to archive it."
> "You didn't have to."
> "I know. But I didn't want people to laugh at us."
He was quiet.
> "I'm not ashamed of you," he said suddenly.
She blinked.
> "Okay…?"
> "I just… don't know how to do this. Be a husband. Or anything close."
Aanya smiled faintly, closing her book.
> "That's okay, Armaan. I don't know how to be a wife either. But we've got time."
She turned off the lamp and lay down.
And for the first time…
He smiled to himself in the dark.