Vincenzo De Luca was running late.
That alone was unusual.
The man who could make an entire boardroom wait for him without blinking was now standing in front of his enormous walk-in closet, looking increasingly irritated.
His shirts were everywhere.
One had been thrown across the armchair.
Another was hanging over the edge of the bed.
Two more were lying on the floor.
The neatly arranged shelves that had probably taken one of the servants hours to organize now looked as though a storm had passed through them.
Vincenzo pulled another hanger forward.
“No.”
He tossed the shirt aside.
Another.
“No.”
Another.
“Too light.”
He opened another section.
Purvi stood by the bedroom door, watching him.
She had been watching for nearly five minutes.
She wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or be concerned.
The man had emptied half his closet looking for one shirt.
Finally, she couldn’t resist.
“Are you looking for something?”
Vincenzo didn’t turn around.
“A shirt.”
Purvi looked at the pile surrounding him.
“I can see that.”
He gave her an irritated glance.
“I need something appropriate.”
“For a meeting?”
“Yes.”
Purvi stepped farther into the room.
“Then why don’t you wear the one you’re holding?”
He looked down at the shirt in his hand.
“It doesn’t match the jacket.”
Purvi glanced at the dark jacket hanging nearby.
Then she looked at the mess.
“You’ve gone through almost your entire closet because of that?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
“What?”
Purvi shook her head.
“Nothing.”
She walked toward the closet.
Vincenzo watched her.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a shirt.”
“I can do it.”
“I’ve noticed.”
His expression darkened.
Purvi ignored him.
She scanned the rows of expensive shirts before reaching toward one section.
She pulled out a dark grey shirt.
She held it up.
“This one.”
Vincenzo looked at it.
Purvi walked over and handed it to him.
“Here.
Wear this.”
He looked at the shirt.
Then at her.
“It’ll suit that jacket.”
Vincenzo hesitated.
He wasn’t sure why.
Perhaps because accepting clothing advice from his wife was not something he had expected to do.
Purvi simply waited.
Finally, he took the shirt.
“Fine.”
She smiled.
Then she turned toward the disaster he had created.
“You should really learn to put things back.”
“I have people who do that.”
Purvi looked over her shoulder.
“Apparently they aren’t here right now.”
Before he could answer, she began picking up the shirts.
Vincenzo watched.
“Leave them.”
Purvi looked at him.
“Why?”
“I’ll have someone arrange it.”
“It’s already a mess.”
“Purvi.”
“I’m not going to leave it like this.”
She continued.
One shirt after another went back onto the hangers.
Vincenzo stood there holding the dark grey shirt, watching his wife reorganize his closet.
Something about the sight felt strangely domestic.
He didn’t like the thought.
Purvi finished arranging the clothes and stepped back.
“There.”
She looked satisfied.
Vincenzo glanced around.
Everything was perfectly arranged again.
He couldn’t deny it.
She had done a better job than the people he paid to do it.
Purvi then noticed a collection of ties.
She reached toward them.
Vincenzo immediately asked,
“What are you doing now?”
“Choosing a tie.”
“I can choose my own tie.”
“I know.”
She pulled one out.
She held it against the shirt.
Then she frowned.
“No.”
She picked another.
She studied it.
“No.”
Finally, she pulled out a simple dark tie.
She looked at him.
“This one.”
Vincenzo looked at it.
Purvi smiled.
“Actually…”
She put the tie back.
“You look better without one.”
Vincenzo raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
Purvi gestured toward his jacket.
“With the shirt and jacket, you don’t need the tie.
You’ll look better that way.”
She smiled.
For a moment, Vincenzo simply stared at her.
She was standing in his closet, choosing his clothes as though she had been doing it for years.
And somehow…
He had allowed it.
He looked down at the shirt in his hand.
Then back at her.
He should have said something.
Instead, he turned toward the bathroom to change.
But before he could take a step, the words came out.
“Stop acting like you’re a dutiful wife.”
Purvi froze.
Her smile slowly disappeared.
Vincenzo’s voice was colder now.
“Remember the reason we’re here.”
Silence filled the room.
Purvi looked at him.
For a moment, she didn’t understand why those words hurt.
Then she remembered.
Everything.
Her father’s debt.
The money Rajiv Mehta had borrowed from Vincenzo.
The amount so large that repayment had become almost impossible.
And then came the agreement.
The contract.
Two years.
Her father would have time to repay the money.
And until then, Purvi would remain Vincenzo’s wife.
She wasn’t here because Vincenzo had chosen her.
She wasn’t here because he wanted her.
She was here because her father’s debt had placed her in his hands.
A replacement.
A contract wife.
And when the money was returned…
The contract would end.
Purvi lowered her eyes.
“I remember.”
Vincenzo’s expression remained hard.
“Good.”
She nodded.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Only moments ago, she had been smiling while helping him choose a shirt.
Now she looked like the woman who had first entered this mansion knowing exactly why she was there.
Vincenzo watched her carefully.
He knew he had said what needed to be said.
So why did he suddenly feel like he’d said something he shouldn’t have?
Purvi stepped away from the closet.
“You should get ready.
You’ll be late for your meeting.”
Vincenzo didn’t respond.
She walked toward the door.
“Purvi.”
She stopped.
She turned around.
He looked at her.
For a moment, he wanted to explain.
He didn’t know why.
Perhaps he wanted to say he hadn’t meant to hurt her.
Perhaps he wanted to tell her that she was becoming too comfortable.
Perhaps he wanted to remind himself as much as her.
Instead, he simply said,
“Don’t wait for me.”
Purvi nodded.
“I won’t.”
She walked out.
The door closed quietly behind her.
Vincenzo remained standing in the middle of the room.
He looked down at the dark grey shirt she had chosen.
Then at the neatly arranged closet.
His fingers tightened around the fabric.
She had been smiling.
She had been helping him.
She had looked completely comfortable.
And he had destroyed that moment with four simple words.
Remember the reason we’re here.
Vincenzo exhaled slowly.
That was the truth.
It had always been the truth.
This marriage was temporary.
Two years.
Nothing more.
When the debt was repaid, Purvi would leave.
He should have been relieved.
Instead, the thought left a strange heaviness in his chest.
He immediately pushed it away.
He changed into the shirt Purvi had chosen.
Then he put on the jacket.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
She had been right.
It suited him perfectly.
His eyes narrowed.
He hated that she had been right.
He reached for a tie.
Stopped.
Then remembered her words.
You look better that way.
He left the tie where it was.
Downstairs, Purvi was sitting quietly in the living room when she heard his footsteps.
She looked up.
Vincenzo walked past her.
For a second, their eyes met.
Purvi noticed the shirt.
He had worn it.
She smiled faintly.
But this time, she didn’t say anything.
Vincenzo paused for half a second.
Then he continued toward the door.
Neither of them knew that something had shifted.
Not because the contract had changed.
It hadn’t.
But because for the first time, both of them had begun to feel the weight of what would happen when it ended.