Chapter 3

(Third person point of view.)

The dining room glowed with a soft, golden warmth.

Candles flickered gently, their flames casting shadows across the neatly arranged table.

The scent of freshly cooked food filled the air his favorite dishes, made with her own hands.

But that wasn't the only thing lingering in the air.

Natasha stood in the center of the room, her fingers tightening around the small glass bottle she held.

She looked at the bottle, given by her aunt. A syrup, that ignite the wild Passion and hungriness of sex inside a man..

That he won't be able resist a woman.

And natasha wasn't any woman but his wife and it's not wrong to use it.

Because in the 2.5 years of their marriage.

They never had sex.

She uncapped the bottle, her heartbeat steady, her mind clear.

She spiked his drink..

Tonight, he would be hers.

He was hers, he was her husband.

They should have sex with eachother.

A smile played on her lips as she inhaled the scent of the drink. It was sweet yet sharp, delicate yet seductive.

Natasha walked over to the dining table, adjusting the roses she had placed in the center.

Everything was perfect. The lighting, the setting, the aroma of both the food and the drugged drink.

For too long, she had been invisible.

For too long, she had been the neglected wife.

But tonight, Raghav wouldn't ignore her.

He wouldn't turn to Kiyara.

He wouldn't deny her touch.

Because when he stepped into this room, his body would crave her. His hands would reach for her. His lips would say her name.

Natasha ran her fingers through her hair, adjusting the deep red dress she had chosen for the night.

The fabric clung to her curves perfectly, the color rich and bold, the same shade as desire, passion, and seduction.

She walked over to the large window, looking out into the dark night.

Somewhere out there, Raghav was on his way home.

She smiled at herself.

Tonight, she wasn't the forgotten wife.

Tonight, she was the woman he would never forget.

And so, she waited.

For her husband.

The moment they could finally be together...

And maybe Natasha would be lucky enough to get pregnant.

It'll strengthen their bond more.

(Natasha’s Point of View)

The sound of the front door opening sent a thrill through me. He’s here.

I straightened, my fingers brushing over the deep red silk of my dress as I turned toward the entrance, anticipation burning in my veins.

The wine was spiked with temptation, designed for him. He would walk in, drink it, and finally, finally see me.

But then… I heard her voice.

Light and effortless.

Kiyara.

Why is she here?

What's she doing here?

In my home.

In our home...

No matter how much of love they have for eachother.

It stays outside.

Outside of our home.

My fingers clenched into my dress as I watched them step inside together. She was wrapped around his arm, her head resting against his shoulder as if she belonged there.

As if I didn’t exist.

The warmth in my chest turned ice-cold.

"Natasha.", Raghav’s voice was clipped, irritated, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

I swallowed hard, forcing my lips into a smile. "You're home."

But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking past me at the roses, the dim candlelight, the romantic dinner I had carefully prepared for him.

His jaw tightened, his expression hardening into something unreadable. But I could feel it the anger rolling off him in waves, the way his body stiffened at the sight of it all.

Why is he angry?

I used to cook him dinner most nights with the help of cooks.

The dinner is always used to ignore.

Kiyara's fingers tightened around his arm "Did you do all this for him?".

I lifted my chin, my voice steady. "Of course. I wanted to make something special for my husband."

The word husband made kiyara stomach churned up.

"What are you doing here kiyara? In our home?"

"Just came here to take some of my things" She replied.

But Raghav only exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair as he stepped forward, his presence towering, suffocating.

"What the hell is all this, Natasha?", he snapped.

I flinched. Just slightly. But he saw it.

He always saw my pain. He just never cared.

"It's dinner," I answered, trying to keep my voice light. "I made all your favorites. The ones you used to love."

A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Favorites? Natasha, I don't even eat dinner here. When will you understand that?"

My heart pounded painfully in my chest, but I forced my smile to stay. No. I wouldn't break.

Not tonight.

"Raghav, just sit down. Eat. I__"

But before I could even finish, he stepped back. Away from me. Away from my touch.

Kiyara, however, stepped forward. Without hesitation, she softly rubbed his wrist.

"Relax, raghav," she murmured. "No need to get so worked up."

I watched, helpless, humiliated...as his body didn't stiffen under her touch the way it did with mine.

Instead, he let out a slow breath, his eyes closing briefly as if she was the only thing in the world that could calm him.

I had decorated the room with love. Cooked with love. Dressed with love.

For my husband.

But in the end, only she could soothe him.

Only The Other Woman could give him the comfort...

***