Aishwariya's POV
It had been three weeks since I last saw Carter. Three weeks since that day at the bookstore when I showed him my drawings, and we talked about life over coffee. I hadn't realized how much I missed those conversations until his message popped up on my phone.
Hey, would you like to meet up sometime this week? There's an exhibition at the gallery on Fifth that I think you'd love. Your drawings reminded me of the artist's style.
A smile crept onto my face before I could stop it. I read the message again, savoring each word. Carter remembered my art. Not just remembered—he'd thought of me when seeing something similar. The simple acknowledgment made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't felt in years.
Okay will meet there at 4:30
"Why are you smiling like an idiot?" Priya asked, plopping down next to me on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her hands. Our weekly movie night was supposed to start ten minutes ago, but I'd been staring at my phone instead of choosing a film.
"Um, nothing," I replied, trying to hide my phone, sliding it under my thigh.
"You know you can't lie to me," she said, raising an eyebrow and nudging me with her elbow. "Your whole face lights up. I haven't seen that in... God, I can't even remember how long."
She was right. I could never hide anything from Priya. We'd been best friends since childhood, through every awkward phase and major life change. She knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
"It's Carter," I admitted. "He messaged me after three weeks, asking to meet."
Priya's eyes widened. She put the popcorn down and turned to face me fully. "Carter? The guy from the wedding? The one you showed your drawings to?"
I nodded, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks.
"Wow," she said, studying my face.
Unable to keep from smiling. "He listens, you know? Actually listens. And he remembered my drawings. He wants to take me to an art exhibition because it reminded him of my style."
Priya looked at me intently, her expression shifting from surprise to something more serious. "What is this, Aishwariya?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're smiling. Really smiling—with your eyes, not just your mouth." She gestured vaguely toward my face. "It's rare to see you like this these days."
I shrugged, suddenly feeling defensive. "It's not a crime to smile, is it?"
"No, but it's been ages since I've seen you this animated, especially when you talk about Aaron."
I looked away, focusing on a loose thread on the cushion.
Priya placed a hand on mine, her touch gentle but insistent. "Aishwariya, I need to say something, and I hope you won't get mad."
"Go on," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't think Aaron is good for you." She took a deep breath. "He's manipulative. And you know that you are not urself for a long time now, and it's not good. I have told you this many time, Aishweriya."
I frowned, pulling my hand away. "Why do you hate Aaron so much?"
"Seriously? Are you asking me that like you don't know?" Her voice rose slightly, frustration clear in her tone.
I stayed silent, feeling a familiar knot forming in my stomach.
"Aishwariya, I've seen how he treats you. I've watched it happen for two years. He controls who you talk to, where you go, and what you wear. He checks your phone. He makes you feel guilty about spending time with anyone else. That's not love; that's control."
"I love him," I whispered, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
"Do you? Or are you just used to him? You've been with him for three years. Maybe you're just dependent on him."
"He's not always like that," I defended weakly. "He can be sweet. He takes care of me."
"Takes care of you? Or makes you dependent on him?" Priya shifted closer. "Remember when you got that internship for the wedding planning in Chicago for 3 months? How excited were you because you got that at your own, not because of your family business? And then suddenly you declined it because—what was his reason again? Oh right, it would 'take too much time away from us.' Was that your decision or his?"
"It was complicated," I mumbled.
"And what about your friends? When was the last time you came out with the group without checking with him first or making up some excuse to leave early because he was texting you non-stop?"
I shook my head, feeling tears welling up. "You don't understand."
"I do, more than you think." Her voice softened. "I've watched you change, become quieter, more reserved. You used to light up a room, Aish. You used to have opinions and share them without looking over your shoulder first. That's not the Aishwariya I know."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Maybe you're right. But I can't just walk away. We've built a life together. His family, my family—everyone expects us to get married."
"And what about what you expect? What do you want?" Priya asked, her eyes searching mine. "When was the last time you thought about what you want without considering his reaction first?"
I couldn't answer. I genuinely didn't know.
"Look, Aish, I'm not saying you have to break up with him tonight. I'm not even saying you need to break up with him at all if you don't want to. I'm asking you to see things clearly. To recognize the patterns."
"Like what patterns?"
"Like how he makes you feel bad about yourself, then swoops in to make it better so you feel grateful. Like how he finds ways to isolate you from people who care about you. Like how he makes you think you need his permission to live your life."
I felt my chest tighten. "It's not that simple."
"It never is," Priya said gently. "But it starts with recognizing what's happening. Have you ever noticed how you never talk about your art with him?"
She was right. He'd dismissed them as "just a hobby" and suggested I focus on "a real career, like my wedding planning business."
"When Carter showed interest in your art, it made you happy in a way I haven't seen in years," Priya continued. "That's not a coincidence, Aish. That's someone acknowledging a part of you that matters—a part that Aaron has tried to diminish."
We talked for hours, the movie forgotten. Priya shared observations I'd been blind to, moments where Aaron had subtly undermined me or isolated me that I'd rationalized away. By the time I left her apartment, I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside me—clarity, confusion, sadness, and something that felt dangerously like hope.
When I got home, Aaron was waiting in the living room, the television on but his attention clearly elsewhere. He didn't look up when I entered.
"Where were you?" he asked, his voice deceptively casual.
"With Priya," I replied, setting my purse down on the counter. "Movie night, remember? I told you this morning."
He narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because I called the restaurant where you two usually order from, and they said they hadn't delivered to her address tonight."
I felt a chill run down my spine. He had called to check on me? "We didn't order in. We just had popcorn and talked."
"Talked about what?"
"Just... life. Friend stuff."
He didn't respond, just turned away, jaw clenched. A familiar tension filled the room. I knew this pattern—the silent treatment, designed to make me anxious, to make me work to fix whatever I'd supposedly done wrong.
Not wanting to argue, I went to take a bath, trying to process everything Priya had said. The warm water couldn't wash away the growing unease I felt. Had I really changed that much? Had I really allowed someone to control me so completely that I'd lost myself in the process?
When I returned to the bedroom, wrapped in my robe, I saw Aaron going through my phone. My stomach dropped.
"What are you doing?" I asked, alarmed.
"Carter messaged you?" he demanded, holding up my phone. Carter's message was displayed on the screen.
"He's a friend." I tried to keep my voice steady.
"A friend? You told me you are not connected?" Aaron's voice was cold, controlled, but I could see the anger building behind his eyes.
"Yes, but he wanted to talk about something, I mean, I can have friends?"
"Not male friends who want to take you to art exhibitions. Especially ones who message you to meet privately. Also I told you not to talk to him."
"It's not private. It's a public gallery," I said, hearing the defensiveness in my voice. "Aaron, you're overreacting."
He ignored me, tapped on my phone a few times, then tossed it on the bed. "You don't need to talk to him anymore."
I picked up my phone and saw that he had blocked Carter's contact and deleted all our messages. A wave of anger surged through me, surprising in its intensity.
"You had no right to do that," I said, my voice shaking.
"I have every right," he replied calmly. "I'm protecting what's mine."
What's mine? Not who I love. Not you. But what's mine? Like I was a possession.
"You can't control who I talk to," I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I rarely challenged him so directly.
"I can when it's for your own good." He stepped closer to me. "You're naive, Aishwariya. You don't see how men like him operate. They pretend to be interested in your... hobbies... just to get close to you."
Aaron sighed, his expression softening into something that would have looked like concern to anyone who didn't know better. "Baby, I'm just looking out for you. You know how much I love you. I don't want to see you hurt."
He reached for me, pulling me into an embrace that felt more like a cage than comfort. I didn't hug him back, but I didn't pull away either. I just stood there, feeling numb.
"I would die if anything happened to you," he murmured into my hair. "You know that, right? You're my everything."
Once, those words would have melted me. Now, they felt heavy, like chains disguised as devotion.
I didn't respond. I just went to bed, turning away from him, feeling a deep sadness settle over me. In the darkness, I thought about Carter's message, about the art exhibition I would never see, about the conversations we would never have.
The next morning, I woke to find Aaron bringing me breakfast in bed—my favorite pastry from the bakery three blocks away. His peace offering.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I just get jealous sometimes. I love you so much."
I nodded, accepting the apology without really believing it. "It's okay."
"So we're good?" he asked, watching me intently.
"We're good," I echoed.
He smiled, relieved. "Great. Oh, and don't forget we have dinner with my parents tonight. My mom wants to finalize some wedding details."
I felt my heart sink. "Tonight? I can't do tonight."
"Why not?"
I hesitated. I mean, I have yet to decide whether to go to meet Carter or not. "I... I promised Priya I'd help her with something."
Aaron's expression hardened instantly. "You saw her yesterday."
"I know, but—"
"But what? What's so important that you need to blow off dinner with my parents?"
"I'm not blowing them off. I'm just asking if we can reschedule."
"They've already made reservations, Aish. This has been planned for weeks."
Had it? I couldn't remember him mentioning it before.
"I've barely seen you this week," he continued. "You've been so distant lately. My mother's starting to notice."
Guilt washed over me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be distant."
"Then prove it. Be there tonight." He took my hand, squeezing it just a little too tightly. "For me."
I nodded, defeated. "Okay."
He kissed my forehead. "That's my girl."
After he left for work, I sat there for a long time, staring at the untouched pastry. I thought about messaging Carter from my work phone, explaining that I couldn't make it, but Aaron had taken that too, claiming he needed it for the day since his was being repaired.
I was trapped, not by locks and chains, but by guilt, manipulation, and my own inability to stand up for myself. I thought about Priya's words, about how I'd changed, about how I'd allowed myself to become someone I barely recognized.
As I got ready for the day, I caught a glimpse of my sketchbook peeking out from under the bed where I'd hidden it. I pulled it out, flipping through pages of drawings I'd once been proud of. Landscapes, portraits, abstract pieces that expressed emotions I couldn't put into words.
Carter had seen something in these drawings. He had seen me.
I thought about the exhibition I would miss, about the conversation that would never happen, about the connection that Aaron had severed with a few taps on my phone.
But then something shifted in my mind. Was Aaron really wrong? We were getting married in three months. Our families were already involved in the planning. What was I doing entertaining messages from another man? Wasn't that disrespectful to our relationship?
Maybe Aaron's protectiveness wasn't control—maybe it was love. He'd said it himself: he was protecting me from men who might try to take advantage of my naivety. Carter might seem genuine, but did I really know his intentions? He'd appeared out of nowhere, focusing on my art—the one thing Aaron didn't care for. Was that a coincidence?
I placed my sketchbook back under the bed and stood up straight, feeling a strange sense of clarity. Aaron was right. I didn't need to talk to Carter. What was the point? A fleeting conversation about art that would only complicate my life and create tension in my relationship?
I was getting married. I had made a commitment to Aaron. Our life together was already mapped out—the wedding, his parents' expectations, our future. Maybe Priya simply didn't understand the sacrifices necessary in a serious relationship. Single people rarely did.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and straightened my shoulders. Tonight, I will go to dinner with Aaron and his parents. I am engaged and interested in the wedding plans. I would be the woman Aaron needed me to be—the woman I had agreed to be when I accepted his proposal.
Carter's interest in my art was flattering, but ultimately meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Aaron was my future, not some stranger who liked my drawings. What we had was real—built over the years, not a few chance meetings.
I nodded to myself, decision made. Aaron was right about Carter. He was right to protect our relationship. And I would prove to him that I understood that now. No more entertaining thoughts of other men or secret meetings about art exhibitions.
I was Aishwariya, soon to be Aaron's wife. And that was who I needed to be.