As Arjun switched on the light, his gaze fell on my new look.

"You..."

He hesitated, the words he initially intended to critique me with seemed to evaporate.

"You look… great."

After a long pause, that's all he could manage.

I got to my feet.

"That outfit you've got on..."

Arjun stared at me, confused.

Earlier, after getting my hair done, Jessica had taken me to a shopping mall.

"If you're not into dresses and prefer a casual vibe, then let’s skip the dresses," she said.

She introduced me to Lululemon.

"Oh wow, Kayleigh, how have you been hiding that amazing waist of yours under those baggy tees all these years? What's the matter? Why are you keeping that fabulous figure under wraps?"

Jessica exclaimed, putting an arm around my waist after I changed.

My waist was starting to feel warm.

My preferences are perfectly normal. Totally normal!

Maybe I did look incredible in Lululemon. Arjun was eyeing my figure, showing a rare hint of approval.

"You've changed. What's up with you today?"

I didn’t answer directly but said, "I’m wiped out today. I’ll crash in the guest room. Your snoring is like a chainsaw, and I can’t get any rest."

With that, I turned and headed to bed.

Arjun stood in the living room, his jaw dropped, taking a long while to snap out of it.

"How odd..." he finally muttered.

Arjun's current annual salary is a million dollars, which positions him as an executive at his midsize company. My mother-in-law sings his praises as if he's the rarest gem on Earth. Yet, in this bustling metropolis, an income like Arjun's isn't particularly exceptional.

We first secured a place in the city—a modest apartment—with the support of my grandmother and uncle. Grandma wisely set aside part of her savings as an early inheritance for me. Then my uncle, in his usual generous manner, presented me with a substantial gift. "Use it however you want, niece. I've got more than enough. Consider this $30,000 yours."

I felt guilty accepting it, but my mom insisted that I should. Uncle's catering business was flourishing, with people traveling from all over to savor his creations. Mom would say, "Your grandma passed her skills to your uncle, not me. Spending some of his money is only fair." I didn't pay her much attention. Back then, she viewed the life of a chef as unglamorous and dismissive of makeup opportunities, rejecting my grandma's craft.

My uncle’s financial help came purely out of concern for me. Eventually, when Arjun was promoted, I persuaded him to repay my uncle. With Grandma and Uncle’s contributions, I was able to manage the down payment on a tiny 600-square-foot old apartment in the city. Despite its small size, the location was fantastic.

At that time, Arjun's salary was quite favorable compared to his peers. But the pressure to buy a home quickly was intense—we always worried about the instability of renting. Even an old, small place like ours stirred envy among Arjun's colleagues: "Wow! Just arrived in the city and already own a place. That’s impressive."

Later, we sold that apartment and purchased a larger home. To my mother-in-law, I became the woman living a carefree life. It seemed that the reality of me doing laundry, cooking, and keeping the old apartment in order—making sure Arjun came home to a warm meal and a cozy bed—was just an illusion, utterly meaningless in her eyes.