Chapter 4: A Normal Morning

That night, I waited for hours, but Priya never called Arjun.

Hot kisses scattered across my skin. Arjun seemed more interested than usual, but at the last moment, I pushed him away. "I have a mission tomorrow, let’s leave it at that."

He was a little frustrated, but I turned away, wrapping myself tightly in the quilt.

Arjun was silent for a long time, then let out a heavy sigh. "Theek hai."

Soon, I heard the water running in the bathroom. The system and I shared a silent worry. [Did we go too far? Did Priya give up?]

"Probably not," I muttered. From what I knew of Priya, even death wouldn’t make her give up on Arjun.

......

The next morning was gloomy, clouds hanging low over the city. I woke early to find Arjun, for once, sitting at the dining table with me, having breakfast.

The sound of cutlery clinking was the only thing filling the room.

"After this mission, transfer to a desk job," Arjun instructed, sounding like he was assigning a task to his secretary. "You’re marrying me, you don’t need to work so hard."

The system piped up in my head. [Hey, I want fried eggs.]

I lowered my eyes, cutting into the paneer. "Okay."

"From now on, I’ll be at the office Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The rest of the time, I’ll be at home. I don’t want you coming to the office to find me."

The system grumbled. [I don’t want cheese. Give me noodles.]

I smiled. "Okay."

Arjun frowned, watching as I finished my milk, pushed my chair back, and stood to leave.

"Meera."

I turned. "What is it?"

He studied me. "You weren’t this obedient before. What’s up with you today?"

Truth be told, I hadn’t listened to a word he’d said.

"Nothing," I replied. "Maybe something good is about to happen."

He tugged at his tie, lips pressed into a thin line, irritation barely hidden.

See? Marrying me—he was a hundred times unwilling.

I forced a smile. "Hey, Arjun, can you wish me a safe return?"

He hesitated. Then, quietly, "Safe return."

"Thanks."

I turned and left.

System: [Sigh, so boring. I thought he wouldn’t say it.]

I slipped on my chappals at the door. The scent of frying onions wafted from the next flat, and a mother’s voice called out, "Beta, jaldi kar! School bus aa gayi!" For a moment, I wished for that life—a normal one, just packing tiffins and running for the bus, far from all this drama.