Chapter 5: The High Price of Loyalty

“You didn’t have to go that far with a young girl.”

Before bed, Arjun brought up the topic.

He spoke in a low tone, changing into his pyjamas, the city lights from our high-rise window reflecting on his face. The air was cool, the AC humming softly in the background.

“You could have told me first.”

I sat at my vanity, doing my hair, looking at his handsome reflection in the mirror.

“You knew I liked that necklace, yet you gave it to another woman. Isn’t it normal for me to be upset?”

I couldn’t imagine—if such a perfect person were ever tainted—whether I could still love him as I did before.

Arjun took his time, pouring himself a glass of cold water at the bar.

“She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. When I saw her swollen eyes, I just gave her the necklace as an apology.”

He didn’t leave a single flaw for me to find.

I stared at him coldly for a long moment.

Two million rupees is nothing to us; it’s not a big deal to give it away. It’s just a question of whether the person deserves it.

He tapped his finger on the marble countertop, waiting for me to think it over.

This was the first time a third party had caused friction between us. Our upbringing and manners made us both a little tired of such drama. We both cared about appearances.

“Arjun, I love you.”

His fingers paused. He probably didn’t expect me to say that so suddenly.

“Arjun, I love the flawless you. That’s what makes you different. You never let women get close before, because you have emotional boundaries. You wanted a pure marriage. I wasn’t like this before, but your values changed me. Now, we want the same things in life.”

“I hope our marriage never faces a fork in the road.”

Arjun sighed helplessly. “It won’t.”

Arjun is a very clear-headed man. He knew I minded, so he’d never give Sneha another chance to fantasise.

Without the boss’s support, Sneha, as an intern, could only start with the most basic tasks. She used to have a chance to work the front desk shifts, but now Kavita didn’t schedule her at all.

I didn’t tell anyone to exclude her. Since Arjun knew his boundaries, I trusted him completely. But things like this don’t need my orders—there are always people eager to curry favour with the powerful and trample on the weak.

In less than half a month, the new secretary couldn’t bear the difference in treatment and the psychological blow. She lost a lot of weight.

The turning point came after an important executive meeting. That day, Sneha was left alone to clean up the small conference room. She was wearing a suit skirt, and she crouched awkwardly, scraping at the gum with a blade, her knees aching against the hard floor.

It was a scene painfully familiar to any intern—tasks no one else wanted, ignored by her seniors, the AC blasting too cold, the scent of leftover coffee lingering in the air. Sometimes, the office could be as unkind as a school playground. WhatsApp pings, chai breaks, and whispers flitted through the corridors.

Arjun, returning unexpectedly, saw this scene.

Sensing someone behind her, Sneha panicked and stood up awkwardly.

Arjun’s gaze was deep and cold. His silent stare made Sneha’s self-esteem crumble.

“Sir.”

Her tears fell without her realising. She wasn’t acting—she wasn’t pretending. Arjun had always been the sun she admired but could never reach. Now, marginalised and ready to accept her fate, being seen like this by him made her want to run away.

In just half a month, the once cheerful, lively girl had become so fragile.

For the first time, Arjun lost his temper. He went home and smashed the water glass I handed him on the floor, water splashing everywhere.

For a moment, I stood frozen, the shards sparkling at my feet. The maid hovered at the door, unsure if she should intervene.

“Why won’t you let her go?”

“Priya, I respect and love you, and I’ve tolerated your repeated insults and harm to her. What satisfaction do you get from bullying the weak?”

His voice was raw, edged with frustration. For the first time in years, it felt like the foundations of our carefully arranged world might crack—and the consequences would not be just office gossip, but something much deeper, something only a husband and wife can understand in the privacy of their home.

Was I really the villain here? Or was I just a wife trying to hold on to what was hers?