The bedroom door opened, and Aakash walked in. His eyes immediately landed on his newly-wed wife. Just an hour ago, she had looked eternal in her saree; now she was curled up on the bed in trousers and an oversized t-shirt. One hand rested on her stomach, the other on her forehead.

Even without the bridal attire, she looked… breathtaking. Her after-makeup glow gave her an aesthetic softness, her chubby cheeks and perfectly shaped brows making her look irresistibly cute. His gaze lingered on her lips, full and pouty.

A notification pinged on her phone, breaking the silence. She stirred, reaching lazily for the bedside table, eyes half-closed. After replying to the message, she finally looked at him.

“Ohh, you’re here.”

“Why don’t you get changed? I have a surprise for you,” she continued.

He nodded silently and left for the walk-in closet. A few minutes later, he returned, dressed down, only to find Shashi sitting cross-legged on the bed, her expression unreadable.

“So, I want to gift you something tonight… on our very special wedding night.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

“You gave me the first rose of my life and even a letter. So in return, I must give you something too, right?” Her tone was stern, her eyes sharp.

Aakash frowned in confusion.

“Coming straight to the point, Mr. Rajput—” she slid a folder across the bed— “these are papers. Please sign them and give them back to me. This marriage is just a contract. Nothing beyond that. I don’t give a damn about you or your girlfriend. It’s only a matter of six months. After that… finish. Cut off. Nothing remains between us."

“Listen—” he tried to interrupt.

“Do not cut me off!” she snapped, her finger pointing at him like a warning. “Be quiet when I’m speaking. This marriage is a contract of six months. In that time, you and I will act like a normal couple in front of the world—especially in front of my sister. She should never have a doubt. Got it? Otherwise—you are finished.”

Her words cut like knives, her voice laced with fury.

“Don’t even try to act like a husband. I hate lovey-dovey things. Stay away. Fuck your girlfriend, and if she’s not enough, get another one. But do not dare question me.”

Her eyes blazed. “I can have a boyfriend if I want. I can sleep with whoever I want. You don’t own me. I am not your dog to wag its tail. I am a bitch who doesn’t care about anyone. So here—sign the papers. Good night.”

She pulled the duvet up to her face. “And don’t turn off the lights. I can’t sleep in pitch dark. Just lower them. Good night, Mr. Rajput.”

Aakash stood frozen. Moments ago, his heart had been overflowing with happiness. Now, in a single breath, she had shattered it all, leaving him in the most vulnerable state of his life.

---

The Next Morning

The Rajput mansion buzzed with laughter and preparation. Servants hurried about arranging things for an important puja (prayer ritual) for the newlyweds’ prosperous life.

Meanwhile, the bride slept peacefully, hugging her husband’s pillow, the chaos of last night forgotten in her dreams. She murmured sleepily until the alarm blared.

“Dring-drinnnggg.”

Groaning, she picked up her phone, pressed it to her ear, and mumbled,

“Roj hi to hospital jati hu, ek din to 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 peacefully at least one day. There’s no place for innocent people like me in this cruel world.)

From the balcony, Aakash watched her while sipping coffee. He chuckled softly at her grumpy cuteness.

Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, her face bare of makeup, irritation written all over her expressions.

He whispered to himself, smiling—

“Hayee, agar aap aise mere aas paas rahengi to main saans kaise lunga, mi alma.”

(Hayee, if you stay around me like this, how will I even breathe, my soul?)

When she finally noticed him, dressed neatly on the couch, she frowned.

“I didn’t know mornings could be this beautiful,” he said, his eyes fixed on her.

“What?” she blinked.

“I mean… look. The morning looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” His gaze lingered on her, making her hum quietly in reply.

“Shashi.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you know the rituals?”

“What rituals?”

“First Kitchen ritual.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh God! I am such an idiot.

Just then, a knock came. Aakash opened the door to see Aakriti smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t tell you last night. Today is a puja. Come, let’s get ready. Here, wear this saree.”

Shashi flushed. “I’ve never worn a saree before.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Shashi. Come, I’ll help you.”

Forty minutes later, they both stepped out.

The sound of anklets echoed across the hall. Every head turned. Descending the stairs carefully, Shashi held her saree pallu in one hand, her earrings dangling gracefully. A small bindi adorned her forehead, her kohl-lined eyes deep and mesmerizing. Her bangles chimed with every step, her mangalsutra—a thin gold chain with a trishul pendant—rested against her neck.

Pin-drop silence filled the mansion.

“Bro… I think you forgot to breathe,” Ishaan teased, watching Aakash’s frozen expression.

“Is there something on my face?” Shashi asked, confused.

“No,” they all replied in unison, while Harsh added,

“Bhai, tere itne saalon ka single rehna aaj safal ho gaya.”

(Bro, all your years of being single finally paid off today.)

Aakash couldn’t tear his eyes away until a smack landed on his head. His best friend muttered, “Bro, don’t ogle like that. She might take it the wrong way.”

---

The Pehli Rasoi

After the puja, it was time for her first kitchen ritual. Aakriti whispered that even a sweet dish would be enough. Sarthak encouraged, “Shashi, no need to cook if you don’t want to.”

She smirked slightly. “Mr. Rajput, I do know how to cook.”

Inside the kitchen, Aakash couldn’t stop watching her. The way her saree hugged her waist, the loose end tucked in as she cooked, her half-tied hair in a messy bun, bangs falling across her cheeks—he was lost.

“She’s a goddess,” he whispered. “I just want to clear every misunderstanding and truly know her.”

Minutes later, Shashi entered the dining room with a tray of bowls. The aroma of gajar ka halwa filled the air. The family took the first bites—

“This is amazing, Shashi,” Sarthak praised.

“This is the bestest gajar ka halwa ever!” Isha squealed, clicking pictures.

Shashi stood quietly, waiting, until Sarthak’s phone rang. After answering, he returned and said—

“Shashi, Laksha is coming.”

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

“She’ll be here in five minutes.”

Her heartbeat quickened. Last night’s contract papers flashed in her mind—what if Laksha found out

Moments later, heavy footsteps echoed through the mansion. Men in black suits entered first, their aura intimidating. And then—Laksha.

She strode in with power, dressed in a white blazer over matching pants, a tube top peeking beneath. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, her collarbone exposed elegantly, her hair pinned in a sleek claw-clip bun.

For the first time, her expressionless face softened. A bold red smile curved her lips, her deep brown eyes carrying warmth.

Everyone froze—witnessing Laksha smile was like witnessing a miracle.

She walked straight to Shashi, greeting her warmly. The mansion held its breath.

________________________________

Author’s Note

Hey lovelies

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. My readers have full authority to point out my mistakes—your feedback makes me better.

Next chapter will be even more intense…