Blended by Fate | completed (#1)

47. Hurt. Healed. Growing.

It's so late, my husband will have a freak out session when I tell him I just reached home. I turn my wrist to look at the watch, 11:34pm. I just hope he didn't go to bed, he doesn't without speaking— listening me rant about anyfreakingthing—to me but I'm just too late tonight. I unlock my phone to check if he saw my last message— I know you miss me but please stop, I can't stop hiccuping. My teams making fun of me🥺

He hasn't. I click a mirror selfie in the elevator mirror making funny faces and pouts, and send it to him. The elevator dings and I step out of it, and unlock the main door with my fingerprint. The second that I shut the door behind me, I feel the change in the air. I'm not alone.

I step into the house, now standing in the midst of the living room. My eyes gliding across whatever I can see, behind the couch, the curtains, the kitchen door. Finding nothing, I unlock my phone and go straight to the camera app. We have camera installed in the house for the both our and Coco-Oreo's safety. They are in every room, every nook except our bedroom. The live video shows me in the living room. I change the setting and go to the prior recordings and play from after 9pm—after the house helps leave. From 9pm to now, nothing. No one has entered the house. I swap the screen to WhatsApp and quickly type a message to my brother— I just reached home and feel like I'm not alone.

Quickly moving back to the camera feed, I change the setting now looking at the recording from 6pm to 9pm. The video plays in 1.75x. My finger quickly taps the pause button. The panic going down and excitement rushing through my veins to my fluffing toes. Joy rushes in. My lips stretch into the biggest, the freaking biggest smile since he left. The chef walks to open the door in the recording. He steps aside and my husband walks through the door.

I throw whatever I have in my hands on the floor and make a run for our bedroom. "Jaanaaa!" I yell at the top of my lungs, throwing the bedroom door open. I'm heaving, like I ran not steps, but miles.  My husband already has his eyes on me. His back leaned against the bed headboard, legs stretched out and crossed at the angles. But when I find his eyes void of any happiness, any emotion. I let my feet hover in the air and then take it back, not jumping in his arms like I was going to.

The surroundings dawns on me. My eyes go to where I left everything this morning and then back at him. The plastic folder sits on his thighs. Our eyes meet again. "I—" Words are caught in my throat. I look down to where he fists the diary in his other hand and then back to his face. "You're here." I mumble taking a step in the room. "Why?" He raises an eyebrow at my 'why', his lips stretches in a smirk, bad kinda smirk and not the sexy one. Like it's all amusing to him. My reaction to this situation is amusing to him. He's back to his arrogant self.

Fluffer! I named him Lucifer Sahdev for a reason.

"I don't know Ahaana, maybe because it's my house as well? Just because it's named to you, doesn't mean I have to ask for your permission to come here." Ahaana. Not Shea. Not baby. Not meri jaan. Ahaana. He calls me Ahaana only when we are doing 'it' or when he's pissed at me.

"I didn't say you have to take my permission. I asked why are you here early." I throw the door close, it bangs loudly. The mood worsened, happiness faded away. I quickly steal a glance at my watch— 11:46pm. Motherfathers! This is the day we end up having that fight I oh-so-desperately wanted? Minutes before his birthday begins? Way to go, Waheguruji. Way to go.

Aapka naam bhi dhoka rakh doon?

Walking the distance between us, I stop at the bed's side. His head tilts up to look at me. My hands itch to snatch the cards and diary from him, but I don't. He lowers down his eyes to the folder and diary, huffing out a tired sigh, he slides the diary in with the cards and puts the plastic folder on the bedside table.