The door of the bedroom creaked open, and Aakash stepped inside. Just an hour ago, his newlywed bride had been wrapped in a saree, looking eternal—almost like a vision. But now, she was lying on the bed, dressed in trousers and an oversized T-shirt. One hand rested on her stomach, the other on her forehead.
Her post-makeup face had an aesthetic softness to it—almost angelic. To him, she looked irresistibly cute: her chubby cheeks, delicate lips, and perfectly shaped eyebrows made his heart flutter.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. The ping caught her attention.
With half-lidded eyes, she reached toward the bedside table to check it. After replying to the message, she glanced at Aakash and casually said,
"Ohh, you're here."
"Why don't you get changed? I have a surprise for you," she added.
Aakash nodded slightly and walked into the walk-in closet. When he returned, freshly changed, he found Shashi sitting cross-legged on the bed, a serious expression on her face.
"So, I want to give you a gift... on our very special wedding night," she said, voice sharp with formality.
"And what's that?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse.
"You gave me the first rose of my life... and a letter too. So in return, I have to give you something, right?" she replied, eyes narrowing slightly.
His brows furrowed in confusion.
"Coming straight to the point, Mr. Rajput... these are the papers. Please sign them and give them back to me.
This marriage is just a contract. Nothing beyond that. I don’t give a fuck about you or your girlfriend. It’s just six months. After that—cut off. Nothing remains between us."
"Listen—" he tried to interrupt.
"Don’t cut me off. Be quiet when I’m speaking."
Her eyes burned with intensity.
"This marriage is a contract of six months. You and I will act like a normal couple in front of the whole freaking world, especially in front of my sister. She should not suspect a thing. Otherwise, you're finished.
Don’t even try to act like a husband. I hate those lovey-dovey things. Stay away. Go fuck your girlfriend—and if she isn’t enough, get another one. But don’t question me."
She pointed her index finger at him with deadly calm.
"If I want, I can have a boyfriend. I can fuck anyone I want. You don’t own me. I’m not your dog who’ll wag its tail. I’m a fucking bitch who doesn’t care about anyone. So here—sign the papers."
"Good night. And don’t turn off the lights. I can’t sleep in pitch darkness. Just dim them... and once again, good night, Mr. Rajput."
She pulled the duvet up to her face and turned her back on him. Aakash stood frozen, his world crashing around him. He had entered the room with a smile, carrying dreams... and now, he stood there stripped of every ounce of happiness, watching her sleep.
---
The Next Morning
The Rajput Mansion was bursting with joy and laughter. Servants scurried about, preparing for the morning puja that would bless the newlyweds with prosperity. Meanwhile, the bride was sleeping peacefully—curled up with her husband's pillow, her worries forgotten.
She mumbled in her sleep just as the alarm began to ring.
"Dring Draining..."
She groaned, reached for her phone, pressed it to her ear, and mumbled,
"Roj hi toh hospital jaati hoon, ek din toh chain se sone do koi mujhe. Is zalim duniya mein mere jaise masoomo ke liye jagah hi nahi hai."
(I go to the hospital every day. Let me sleep in peace just once. There’s no place for innocent souls like me in this cruel world.)
From the balcony, Aakash stood sipping his coffee, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched her.
"Hayee agar aap aise mere aas paas rahengi toh main saans kaise loonga, mi alma."
(If you stay around me like this... how will I even breathe, mi alma?)
She stirred, tying her messy hair into a quick ponytail, her irritation evident. She disappeared into the washroom and came out fresh—hair damp, dressed in a simple tee and pants.
He was already seated on the couch, smiling softly.
"I didn’t know mornings could be this beautiful," he said.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"I mean… look, the morning really does look beautiful," he added, eyes fixed on her.
"Shashi?"
"Hmm?"
"Don’t you know the rituals?"
"What rituals?"
"First kitchen ritual."
Her eyes widened in realization.
"I am such an idiot!" she exclaimed, slapping her forehead.
Just then, a knock at the door. Aakash opened it to find Akriti.
"I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you last night, but there’s a puja today!"
"Puja??"
"Yes! Come on, let’s get ready. Wear this saree," she handed her one.
Shashi looked at the fabric nervously.
"I’ve never worn a saree before..."
Akriti smiled, "Don’t worry. I’ll help you."
About 40 minutes later, everyone was gathered in the living room. Laughter echoed in the air—until the sound of heavy anklets froze everyone.
Descending the staircase was the bride—carefully holding her pallu, a bindi between her brows, kohled eyes deep and glowing. Her hands were adorned with bangles that chimed musically. The mangalsutra lay elegantly around her neck.
"Bro, I think you forgot to breathe," Isha teased.
Aakash was speechless—completely lost in her.
"Is there something on my face?" Shashi asked nervously.
They all shook their heads, and Harsh smirked,
"Bhai, tere itne saalo ka single rehna aaj safal ho gaya."
(Bro, your years of being single just paid off today.)
Aakash only snapped out of his daze when his best friend smacked him lightly.
"Stop staring, bro. She might get the wrong idea."
Soon, the puja ended and the time came for her Pehli Rasoi. Akriti explained that a simple sweet dish would do.
"Mr. Rajput, I know how to cook," she said proudly.
Aakash gave her a thumbs up. She smiled and entered the kitchen.
---
Aakash’s POV
She stepped into the kitchen... but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’ve never seen her in traditional attire—so divine, so graceful.
Her scent lingered in the air... intoxicating.
God, I want to pull that saree off and hear her moaning my name while I worship her body.
I shook my head, fisting my hands. Control, Aakash.
Then she tucked the pallu at her waist—and I melted. Her silky hair now in a bun, flicks framing her cheeks... she looked like a goddess.
I want to clear all the misunderstandings. But right now, I just want to know her.
---
Back at the dining table, everyone waited eagerly. Shashi soon arrived with a tray full of bowls—the aroma of her gajar ka halwa filling the room.
Akriti, Sarthak, and Aparna took the first bites, while the rest were busy snapping photos.
"It’s amazing, Shashi!" said Sarthak.
"This is the bestestestest halwa ever!" Isha added.
Shashi smiled softly, only to be startled when Sarthak’s phone rang.
He came back, face a bit tense.
"Shashi... Laksha is coming."
She frowned. "What?"
"She’ll be here in five minutes."
Shashi’s heart sank. Her mind flashed back to the papers, to the harsh words she'd thrown the night before.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hall.
And then—she entered.
Laksha.
Clad in a stunning white blazer over white pants, her tube top exposing her collarbones, her heels clicking sharply. Her men in black followed behind like shadows.
For the first time, a smile graced her bold red lips. Her deep brown eyes, usually fierce, had softened.
She walked toward Shashi, and for the first time in a long while, peace and tension danced in the same room.
---
Dear Readers,
I hope you loved this chapter. Feel free to point out any mistakes—I appreciate you all.
With love,
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