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**Chapter 36 – A Dinner of Unspoken Words**
The clock struck eight.
Aanya stood outside Arjun's apartment in London, her coat pulled tight against the crisp evening air. Her heart was calm on the surface but turbulent underneath. She reminded herself: *It's just dinner. Just food. Just closure.*
Yet when he opened the door, dressed in a dark sweater that hugged his shoulders, barefoot, hair tousled—her resolve trembled.
He didn't smile, nor did he speak. He simply stepped aside, letting her walk in. The apartment was dimly lit, a quiet instrumental playing in the background. The table was set for two—candlelit, warm, intimate. Too intimate.
Aanya cleared her throat. "Smells good."
"I cooked," Arjun said softly. "Didn't want to make it formal."
She glanced at the table. Pasta, sautéed vegetables, and a bottle of the wine she used to love—he remembered. *He always remembered.* Her heart ached.
They sat down, the silence thick. He served her without asking, and she let him.
"Thanks," she said, sipping water. "So… how's the expansion?"
"Challenging," he said. "But good. London's a big step."
"For SynTech or for me?" she asked without meeting his eyes.
"Both."
Aanya toyed with her fork. "You didn't have to follow me here."
"I didn't follow you," he replied. "I came because I wasn't ready to give up on us."
"And if I *am*?" she asked, her voice quiet, trembling.
Arjun placed his fork down. "Then I'll accept it. Eventually. But not tonight."
Their eyes met. His were heavy with yearning, hers with conflict. The tension wrapped around them like a vice.
"You always do this," she said. "Show up, take up space, make me feel guilty for leaving."
"I don't want your guilt, Aanya," he said. "I want your truth."
"My truth?" She laughed bitterly. "My truth is—I'm tired. Tired of being the girl who constantly fights between duty and dreams. Who tiptoes around your moods. Who gave up her sense of self for a marriage she never wanted!"
His jaw clenched. "Then why are you here?"
"Because you asked," she said, almost a whisper. "And part of me still wanted to come."
That admission silenced them both.
Arjun leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I know I've made mistakes. I was possessive. Insecure. I tried to hold you so tightly, I never realized I was choking your spirit."
Aanya's eyes shimmered. "Then why didn't you let me go?"
"Because," he breathed, "you're the only thing in my life that ever made me feel real. I didn't want to lose that."
Silence fell again, but it wasn't heavy—it was honest.
They ate slowly, without speaking. The emotional exhaustion was louder than any words could be.
After dinner, he cleared the plates while she wandered to the bookshelf. She ran her fingers over the spines—MBA books, startup guides, novels in Hindi and English. She found one tucked in the corner—*The Secret Garden.* Her childhood favorite.
"You kept this?" she asked, turning to him.
"You left it when you went back to your parents. I thought you'd come back for it."
She held the book like a fragile memory. "I used to believe in magic as a kid. Secret places that healed wounds."
"Maybe this marriage is our secret garden," he said quietly. "Wounded, neglected, but not beyond repair."
Aanya stared at him for a long time. His words sank deep, too deep.
"I don't know if I love you," she admitted. "I don't know if I ever did. Or maybe I never gave myself the chance to."
Arjun's expression didn't flinch. "Then give yourself the chance now."
She exhaled shakily. "Why does it always have to be me who chooses?"
"Because I already chose," he said. "Every day since we married."
She looked away, blinking rapidly. "I came here tonight to say goodbye."
"Then say it."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Can't?" he asked.
"I don't know," she whispered.
He walked toward her slowly, his hands staying at his sides, not touching. Just presence.
"I won't touch you unless you want me to," he said. "But just for tonight… let me hold the silence with you."
And somehow, that was exactly what she needed.
She nodded.
They sat on the couch, side by side, not speaking. Her head eventually rested on his shoulder. His breath evened out.
No kiss. No sudden passion. Just presence.
Not a goodbye.
But not a beginning either.
Just… in between.
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**End of Chapter 36**