Chapter 7

**Unveiling the Past**

The following weeks brought a tentative sense of normalcy to Ayesha’s life. The guesthouse renovation was behind her, and her relationship with Arman had started to evolve. He began including her in conversations, sharing stories about his work, and even laughing at her occasional sarcastic remarks. While they were far from being a traditional couple, they were moving toward something that felt real—something that felt like partnership.

But the calm was deceptive, and Ayesha was about to face a revelation that would shatter everything she thought she knew about her marriage.

One quiet afternoon, Ayesha was organizing the desk in Arman’s study, a task Priya had handed her without much thought. As she sifted through papers and files, her fingers brushed against a worn, yellowed envelope tucked between two thick binders.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled it out. The envelope had no name, just a faint smudge of ink across its front. With trembling hands, Ayesha unfolded the letter inside.

The handwriting was unmistakably Priya’s. The words, however, left her breathless.

> “Arman, I trust you will keep this matter quiet. Ayesha must never know the full truth about her position in this family. Her father’s debts were substantial, and this marriage was the only way to resolve them without public scandal. We gave them a solution, and in turn, you agreed to do your duty. Do not forget the sacrifice you made for this family’s reputation. Natasha was never an option, and I trust this matter is behind us now. Priya.”

Ayesha’s heart pounded as she read and reread the letter. Her marriage wasn’t just an arrangement—it was a transaction. Her family’s financial troubles had been kept from her, and her life had been bartered to maintain the Shah family’s spotless reputation.

That evening, Ayesha waited for Arman in the sitting room, the letter clenched tightly in her hand. When he arrived, his usual calm demeanor faltered at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer.

“This,” Ayesha said, thrusting the letter toward him. “Care to explain?”

Arman’s expression darkened as he took the letter, his jaw tightening as he read its contents. “Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice low.

“In your study,” she replied, her tone sharp. “Don’t turn this on me, Arman. I want the truth.”

He let out a heavy sigh, sinking into the nearest chair. “Ayesha, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“So it’s true?” she demanded, her voice rising. “This marriage wasn’t about tradition or family—it was about clearing debts? My family’s debts?”

“Yes,” Arman admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “But I didn’t know the full extent until after the engagement was finalized. By then, it was too late.”

Ayesha felt a wave of betrayal wash over her. “And you never thought to tell me? To give me the choice to walk away?”

“What choice?” Arman said bitterly, standing abruptly. “Your family was drowning, Ayesha. My mother saw an opportunity to help them and maintain our reputation at the same time. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only solution.”

“An opportunity?” Ayesha echoed, her voice trembling. “I’m not a solution, Arman. I’m a person. You had no right—none of you had any right—to decide my life for me.”

Their argument carried late into the night, each word cutting deeper than the last. For the first time, Arman’s calm facade cracked, revealing the frustration and guilt he had been carrying. But his explanations did little to ease Ayesha’s pain.

By the time their voices subsided, they were left in a strained silence.

“I need time,” Ayesha said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t look at you or anyone in this house right now. I need to think.”

Arman opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He nodded slowly, his expression heavy with regret.

The next day, Ayesha packed a small bag and left for her parents’ house without telling Priya or Arman. She needed answers, and she knew exactly where to find them.

Her mother was surprised to see her at the door. “Ayesha, beta! What are you doing here?”

Ayesha stepped inside, her expression resolute. “I need to talk to Abba. Is he home?”

Her mother hesitated but nodded. “He’s in the study.”

Ayesha found her father sitting at his desk, flipping through a ledger. He looked up, startled, as she entered.

“Ayesha? What’s the matter?”

She held up the letter. “I know about the debts, Abba. I know about the arrangement with Arman’s family. I want the truth.”

Her father’s face paled. “Ayesha, I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “Please, Abba. I need to hear it from you.”

Her father sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s true,” he admitted. “We were in trouble, Ayesha. I made some bad investments, and the debts were piling up. Priya Shah approached us with the proposal. She said it would solve everything.”

“And you agreed?” Ayesha asked, her voice breaking. “You handed me over without even asking me?”

Her father’s eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t like that. We didn’t see another way out. I thought... I thought you’d be happy. They promised to take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” Ayesha repeated bitterly. “I’m not a problem to be solved, Abba. I’m your daughter. Did you even think about what this would do to me?”

Her father looked away, his guilt too heavy to bear.

That night, Ayesha sat alone in her childhood room, the weight of everything she had learned pressing down on her. She felt betrayed by her parents, manipulated by Priya, and deceived by Arman. But amidst the anger and hurt, a question lingered: What now?

She could walk away from the marriage, demand her freedom, and start over. But what would that mean for her family? For Arman? Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the progress they had made or the moments of genuine connection they had shared.

As dawn broke, Ayesha made a decision. She would return to the Shah household—not as a victim, but as a woman determined to reclaim her agency and demand the respect she deserved.

When Ayesha walked through the Shah family’s front door the next morning, Priya and Arman were waiting in the sitting room.

“You’re back,” Priya said, her tone neutral but her eyes wary.

“Yes,” Ayesha replied, her voice steady. “But things are going to change. I’m not here to fit into your expectations, Maaji. I’m here to build a life on my terms.”

Arman stepped forward, his expression cautious. “Ayesha, I know I’ve made mistakes. But I want to make this right. Whatever it takes.”

Ayesha met his gaze, her resolve unshaken. “Then prove it, Arman. Not with words, but with actions. I’ll give us another chance, but only if you’re willing to meet me halfway.”

He nodded, his sincerity unmistakable. “I will.”

As she stood in the house that had once felt like a prison, Ayesha realized she was no longer the same person who had arrived here as a bride. She had been tested, betrayed, and broken, but she had also found her strength.

The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, Ayesha felt ready to face it—on her terms.