Chapter 67 I Am Your Wife

• Aryan had stood by the study room window, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, his attention captured by the garden below where Disha had sat. Her presence had offered him a sense of tranquility amid the chaos of his thoughts.
• Meanwhile, Disha had occupied the solitude of the garden, her expression devoid of joy or warmth. Upon closer observation, Aryan had noticed the faint glimmer of tears on her cheeks. Memories of his altercation with Disha had raced through Aryan's mind, and a surge of anger had welled up within him.
• In a fit of frustration and self-loathing, he had forcefully struck his hand against the wall. The impact had jolted the wound on his hand, causing it to reopen, and blood had started trickling down his fingers.