Aarav Malhotra did not obsess.
He controlled.
That was what he told himself as he watched Ishita from across the breakfast table, steam curling up from his untouched coffee while she stirred sugar into hers three times, always three times, like a ritual she wasn't even aware of.
She sat straight-backed, careful, as if the chair beneath her might disappear if she relaxed too much. Her hair was tied loosely today, strands escaping around her face. No makeup. No jewelry beyond the mangalsutra he had placed around her neck.
Mine, the word surfaced unbidden.
Aarav tightened his grip on the cup.
"You're late," he said.
Ishita looked up, startled. "It's eight."
"Breakfast is at seven thirty," he replied calmly.
She nodded immediately. "I'll be earlier tomorrow."
No argument. No resentment. Just quiet compliance.
That should have satisfied him.
Instead, it irritated him.
He watched her eat in silence, noticed how little food she put on her plate, how she pushed half of it around without touching it. When she stood to clear her plate, he spoke again.
"You didn't eat."
"I'm not very hungry," she said softly.
A lie. He could recognize those easily.
"Sit," he ordered.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second — so small no one else would notice — before obeying. Aarav pushed his plate toward her.
"Finish it."
Her eyes widened. "I can't—"
"That wasn't a request."
Her jaw tightened. For the first time since she'd entered his life, something sharp flickered in her eyes.
"I'm not your child," she said quietly. "You don't get to decide how much I eat."
The words were soft, but the defiance behind them struck something deep in his chest.
The room seemed to still.
Aarav studied her face, memorizing the faint crease between her brows, the way her hands trembled even as she held her ground. Resistance. Fragile, but real.
Interesting.
"Fine," he said at last. "Do as you want."
She blinked, clearly surprised.
He stood and left without another word.
But long after he'd reached his office, her words echoed in his mind.
You don't get to decide.
For the first time in years, someone had drawn a line with him.
And he couldn't stop thinking about it.
---
Ishita learned quickly that being Aarav Malhotra's wife did not mean warmth.
It meant presence.
She accompanied him everywhere — business lunches, corporate events, charity galas where women eyed her with poorly hidden envy and men watched her like she was a puzzle they wanted to solve.
Aarav's hand was always on her.
At her waist. Her lower back. Her wrist.
Never rough. Never gentle.
Always possessive.
She hated how aware she was of it.
At one such event, she stood beside him, smiling politely while a woman in a sleek silver dress laughed a little too loudly at something Aarav said.
"You must be so lucky," the woman said, eyes lingering on him. "Marrying a man like Mr. Malhotra."
Ishita smiled. "Luck has nothing to do with it."
The woman laughed again, her gaze flicking to Aarav. "If you ever get tired of domestic life, Aarav, you know where to find me."
Ishita felt his grip tighten.
Not visibly. Just enough for her to feel it.
Aarav didn't smile. "I don't get tired," he said coolly.
The woman flushed, muttering an excuse before leaving.
Ishita looked up at him. "You didn't have to be rude."
His eyes darkened. "She was disrespectful."
"To me?" Ishita asked. "Or to you?"
He didn't answer.
But later that night, when they returned home, he poured himself a drink and watched her from across the room.
"You don't like being touched," he said suddenly.
She stiffened. "I tolerate it."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I can give," she replied, folding her arms. "You wanted a wife for appearances. I'm doing my part."
"And emotionally?" he asked.
She laughed softly. "You didn't buy that."
The words landed harder than she intended.
Aarav's jaw clenched.
"Go to bed," he said.
She didn't move.
"No," she said quietly. "Not until you understand something."
His gaze sharpened. "Careful."
"I won't love you," she said, meeting his eyes. "No matter how much space you force me into. No matter how tightly you hold me in public."
The silence stretched.
Aarav stepped closer, towering over her. "You assume I want your love."
"Don't you?" she asked.
For a moment, the mask slipped.
Just for a moment.
Then it was gone.
"I want obedience," he said coldly. "Nothing more."
She searched his face, then nodded once. "Then stop looking at me like that."
He froze.
"Like what?" he demanded.
"Like I'm something you're afraid to lose," she said softly.
She turned and walked away before he could respond.
Aarav stood there long after she was gone, glass clenched so tightly it nearly shattered.
---
The jealousy came quietly.
It started small.
A driver holding the door for her a second too long. A junior executive smiling too warmly when she thanked him. The gardener who laughed when she complimented the roses.
Aarav noticed everything.
One evening, he found her in the study, phone pressed to her ear, smiling in a way he had never seen directed at him.
"Yes, Papa," she said softly. "I'm eating properly."
His chest tightened.
Who are you smiling like that for?
She looked up and froze when she saw him.
"I'll call you later," she said quickly, ending the call.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"My father."
"Why does he get that smile?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Her brows knit together. "Because he's my father."
"And I'm your husband."
She stared at him. "On paper."
The words cut deeper than they should have.
"You belong here," he said sharply. "With me."
"I don't belong to anyone," she shot back.
The argument escalated fast, voices low but heated, until Aarav suddenly stepped closer, backing her against the desk.
"Say it again," he said dangerously. "Say you don't belong to me."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't look away.
"I don't belong to you."
Something snapped.
Aarav's hand slammed down beside her, trapping her in place.
The room vibrated with unspoken things.
For a terrifying second, Ishita thought he might kiss her.
Or break her.
Instead, he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, his breath uneven.
"Don't test me," he whispered. "You don't know what I'm holding back."
Her heart pounded, but her voice stayed steady.
"Then let me go."
He pulled away abruptly.
"You'd regret it," he said.
"So would you," she replied.
They stared at each other, both breathing hard, both losing a battle neither wanted to admit they were fighting.
That night, Aarav didn't sleep.
He sat in his study, replaying her words, her defiance, her warmth.
This wasn't control anymore.
This was fixation.
And the realization unsettled him more than any loss of power ever had.