A HOME THAT WASN'T OURS

Ten years.

It had been exactly ten years since Agatha and I got married.

Today was our ten-year wedding anniversary—a day that should have meant something. A day where a husband and wife celebrated their love, their journey together.

But for me?

It was just another reminder of the life I never wanted.

I had taken the day off from work—not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. Agatha expected me to be home, and my parents would have been suspicious if I wasn't. Pretending was second nature to me now. I had spent a decade mastering the art of deception—convincing everyone that I was happy.

That I had moved on.

But inside?

I was still the same broken man I was on the day I lost her.

.

.

.

I sat on the couch with Agatha and our son, Vhiinil, my fingers lightly tapping on my knee as I watched our wedding video play on the television.

It had become a yearly ritual—watching the ceremony, the smiles, the blessings.

The lie.

Every time I saw that video, something inside me twisted painfully.

Something felt wrong.

It wasn't the decorated hall, the music, or the people.

It wasn't the way my parents looked at me with pride.

It was the woman sitting beside me.

The one in the video.

And the one next to me now.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Someone else was.

Someone who should have been by my side.

But she wasn't.

Because she was gone.

And I was stuck in a life that wasn't mine.

I tore my gaze away from the screen and looked at the small photograph placed near the television.

A photo of just two people.

Me and her.

I stared at it for a long moment, my thoughts unravelling, slipping into places I didn't want them to go.

If she was here…

Would this marriage have even happened?

If she was here…

Would I have ever been forced to love someone else?

The answer was simple.

No.

If she was here, I wouldn't be married to Agatha.

I would have been married to my little angel.

But fate wasn't that kind.

And because of that, I was here.

With a woman I barely knew.

A woman I never wanted.

I felt Agatha shift beside me, her eyes flickering toward where my attention had strayed.

And then—

"Yuvaa."

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.

"What?" I muttered, my tone edged with irritation.

She hesitated, then spoke carefully.

"I want to ask you something."

I exhaled sharply. Here we go.

"What is it, Agatha?"

She swallowed, then turned to face me fully.

"Why didn't your… friend attend our wedding?"

My fingers curled into fists.

I turned my head slowly, staring at her.

"My every friend attended. What are you talking about?"

Agatha let out a dry laugh and shook her head.

"Don't act dumb, Yuvaa. I didn't ask about them."

She lifted her hand and pointed—straight at the photograph.

"I'm asking about her."

A sharp, suffocating pressure wrapped around my chest.

"She had work," I said flatly, my voice betraying nothing.

Agatha's eyes narrowed.

"Work?" She scoffed. "That's your excuse?"

She folded her arms, tilting her head.

"Or was it because she wasn't just a friend?"

I turned to her sharply.

"Watch your words, Agatha."

But she didn't back down.

"You never talk about her," She accused. "You never even mention her name. Why? Who was she to you?"

I inhaled deeply, forcing back the rage boiling inside me.

I couldn't slip.

Not here.

Not in front of her.

So I laughed.

A sharp, humourless laugh.

"You know what's funny?" I murmured. "You keep asking me about someone who isn't even here."

Agatha frowned.

I smirked, shaking my head.

"Why are you so fixated on someone you've never even met, Agatha?" I taunted. "You talk about her more than I do. Should I be the one getting jealous now?"

Agatha's jaw clenched.

"Don't turn this on me, Yuvaa!" She snapped. "You keep avoiding the damn question! Why wasn't she there?"

I exhaled sharply.

I needed to shut this down.

So I turned to her fully, my expression blank.

"Because she had other priorities, Agatha."

A silence stretched between us.

Agatha scoffed.

"Other priorities?" She echoed, crossing her arms. "So, she didn't care about your marriage?"

I clenched my jaw.

"Believe what you want," I muttered, my voice low, dismissive.

But Agatha wasn't done.

She clenched her jaw, her tone rising.

"She must be really special to you, huh?" She snapped. "So special that even now—ten years later—you still won't introduce me to her?"

Something inside me snapped.

"I told you not to interfere in my business, Agatha," I said, my voice sharp as a blade.

She let out a bitter laugh.

"Your business?" She spat. "I'm your wife, Yuvaa! I have the right to ask about the people in your life!"

And that's when I laughed.

A short, cruel laugh.

Wife?

She had the nerve to call herself my wife?

I turned to her slowly, my expression dark, my voice deadly quiet.

"Wife?" I repeated, my lips curling into a smirk. "You actually believe that?"

Agatha's face paled, but I didn't stop.

"You talk about this marriage like it's something real," I continued, my voice dripping with mockery.

"As if we're some perfect little family."

"But we both know the truth, don't we?" I whispered. "This marriage? It's nothing but a f*cking lie."

Her breath hitched.

"You say all that, but at the end of the day…" She whispered, tilting her head.

"I'm still wearing the Thali."

My vision went white with rage.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

She was challenging me.

Mocking me.

Before I realized it, I was already standing.

I loomed over her, my body shaking, my voice dangerously low.

"Don't test me, Agatha."

But she didn't back down.

Instead, she stood up too, stepping closer.

"Why not?" She taunted. "Why are you getting so angry, huh? Why can't you just tell me the truth?"

My breathing turned ragged.

"There is no truth," I gritted out.

She crossed her arms.

"Then look me in the eyes and tell me she doesn't mean anything to you."

I froze.

The air between us turned suffocating.

Seconds passed.

And then—

I did the only thing I could.

I turned away.

Agatha let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"I knew it," She whispered.

I clenched my fists.

"That's enough, Agatha."

"No, it's not!" She yelled, her voice breaking. "Why won't you tell me the truth, Yuvaa? Why are you hiding her? Why do you—"

"Because I don't want to talk about her!" I roared.

The room fell silent.

Agatha stepped back slightly, startled by my sudden outburst.

My breaths came out harsh and uneven, my pulse thundering in my ears.

I ran a hand through my hair, barely holding myself together.

"I'm done with this conversation," I muttered.

I turned away, taking long strides toward my personal room.

But before I could leave—

Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I'm your wife, Yuvaa!!" She screamed.

"You touched me! Because of that, we had Vhiinil!"

I stopped.

A slow, eerie silence stretched across the room.

Then—

I turned my head slightly, looking at her from the corner of my eye.

And for the first time in years—

I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Pure. Cold. Hatred.

My voice came out dangerously quiet.

"You… really think that's what happened?"

Agatha's throat bobbed as she swallowed.

But I didn't wait for an answer.

Instead, I let out a low, bitter chuckle.

Then, without another word—

I walked away.

I slammed the door shut behind me.

And in the silence of my room, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

I let out a shaky breath.

And whispered the name I wasn't allowed to say out loud anymore.

"Yadhana…"