Chapter-3: Cracks in the Glass

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The following weeks passed like the ticking of a cold clock. Mornings were filled with silence, and nights ended with doors quietly closing between separate rooms. Veer and Anaya lived under the same roof like co-tenants—cordial, detached, and observably uncomfortable.

Anaya busied herself with household routines and tried exploring her new world. She signed up for online business management classes to distract her mind, knowing how much her father had admired Veer’s corporate acumen. She hoped that if Veer wouldn’t open up to her heart, perhaps he would, at the very least, see her as an equal in intellect.

Still, her heart ached in silence. She had married a man whose world didn’t seem to have space for her. There were nights she stood by the balcony, the wind brushing her cheeks, and wished he would call her by name—not out of duty, but desire.

One evening, while organizing the guestroom closet to store some of her books, she found an envelope tucked behind a stack of files. It was addressed to Veer, in Meera’s handwriting. The paper was slightly worn, as if it had been opened and reread many times. Anaya’s fingers trembled, but she didn’t read the contents. She placed it back exactly where it had been and closed the closet door, her throat tight.

Later that night, over dinner, she finally asked, “Why do you keep her letter?”

Veer froze. His spoon hovered mid-air before he set it down. “You went through my things?”

“I was organizing,” she said, voice even. “It was not intentional.”

He looked away. “That’s personal.”

“So am I,” she replied softly. “I live with a man who doesn’t speak to me, who avoids even looking at me. I’ve stayed respectful. But I’m not invisible.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Meera was a big part of my life. I didn’t just stop loving her because we got married.”

The words stung more than she expected, but Anaya nodded. “I’m not asking you to forget her. But you can’t hold onto her while pretending I don’t exist.”

He said nothing.

“I won’t compete with a memory, Veer,” she added, her voice breaking slightly. “I never asked for this marriage. But I accepted it. I hoped maybe you would too.”

She stood and walked away, leaving her untouched meal behind. That night, she slept on the balcony chaise lounge, staring up at the stars, silently asking the universe why hearts had to be so stubborn.

The next morning, Veer found her there, her arms curled around herself. A blanket had slipped halfway off. He quietly covered her again and paused for a moment, watching her features softened by sleep. Something shifted within him.

She wasn’t just a business deal. She wasn’t just his wife on paper. She was enduring him, and that realization twisted something in his chest.

Later that day, Veer came home earlier than usual. Anaya was preparing tea in the kitchen when he walked in. She looked surprised.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“I took the afternoon off.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Actually, I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out.”

She blinked. “Go out?”

“Yes. There’s a new art exhibit at the museum. Thought we could check it out together.”

Anaya smiled faintly. “That sounds... nice.”

They went that evening, walking slowly through the halls of vibrant canvases and sculptures. Veer listened as Anaya spoke about her favorite artists, her voice animated and full of quiet passion. For the first time, he noticed how expressive her eyes were, how they sparkled when she spoke of things she loved.

He found himself smiling genuinely beside her, and when their hands brushed accidentally, he didn’t pull away.

That night, he didn’t retreat to the guest room. He stayed on the balcony with her, sharing silence not as strangers—but as two people slowly peeling away their layers.

The glass had cracked. But through the fracture, something warm had begun to shine through.

And for the first time, hope stirred in both their hearts.

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