Chapter 7: The Wall Becomes Glass

It wasn’t until the next evening that I saw Rohan again.

He came home late, hair mussed, tie loose. The house was quiet, the help having left early. The only sound was the distant whir of the air conditioner.

I was wearing pyjamas, coming downstairs, and bumped right into him.

He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to see me. We stood awkwardly on the landing, neither moving aside.

He stiffened, looked at me, and for a moment, seemed dazed.

His eyes lingered on my face a second too long, searching for something. I tried not to fidget with my sleeves.

I didn’t ask about Priya.

The silence was heavy, but I refused to be the first to speak. I busied myself with adjusting the hem of my kurta, pretending to search for my phone.

But this time, Rohan brought her up himself.

He cleared his throat, voice unsteady. "Priya—she wanted me to explain…"

After he finished, he looked up and added, "She wanted me to explain to you that on your birthday, it wasn’t intentional. She didn’t know that was the Sinha family."

He waited for my reaction, his fingers tapping nervously on the banister. I could tell this wasn’t easy for him.

I was a bit surprised, looking at Rohan.

For a moment, my resolve wavered. It was the first time he’d openly acknowledged my feelings.

After a moment, I nodded. "Okay, I understand."

My voice was steady, but inside, I felt a strange sense of peace—like the first breeze after a long, hot summer.

After that day, thanks to Priya, we became inexplicably closer.

There was still a wall between us, but it had become see-through. We shared small smiles over morning chai; sometimes, he’d ask if I’d eaten lunch. The city outside was still the same—loud, unyielding—but inside, something had shifted. Maybe, just maybe, our story wasn’t over yet.

But in Mumbai, nothing stays hidden for long—not even the cracks in a marriage.