Hi everyone,😊

As promised, I’m uploading another chapter today! Please note, since I’m not Indian, if there are any inaccuracies in the wedding rituals, I sincerely apologize. Feel free to point them out in the comments or DM me on Instagram @fictionallover23—I’d love to hear from you!

Happy reading!😊😊

Arjun

There’s too much chaos at home. The Haldi ceremony wasn’t anything special for me. After it ended, I simply washed my face and left for the office, still wearing the same Haldi-stained clothes. Mom insisted I take time off until the wedding, but I refused. I need something to keep me occupied, something to distract me.

Say that —you’re just looking for something to keep your thoughts away from Ananya.

Shut up.

On my way to the office, Mom and Dad asked me to drop them off at Ananya’s house. I agreed. I didn’t plan to go inside—I didn’t need to. But when Mom and Dad entered, I caught a glimpse of her.

Ananya.

She was standing there, wearing a simple yellow dress, and I... I couldn’t look away. She looked so... so beautiful.

Shit. Get a grip on yourself, Arjun.

I left for the office immediately. Staying there any longer felt dangerous, like I was treading on thin ice.

At work, I met Karan, and we focused on some critical upcoming projects. It helped, briefly. But by the time I got home, the noise in my head had returned.

Tomorrow is the Sangeet. We’ll be heading to the venue early. Mom has already handed me the outfit I’m supposed to wear.

                                ♡♡

I got up in the morning and got ready, wearing my deep teal sherwani. The intricate patterns on the coat glimmered faintly under the light, catching my attention for a moment. It fit me perfectly, tailored with sharp cuts that gave it a regal look, and the fabric felt rich yet light against my skin. The deep blue hue of the outfit seemed to mirror my mood—calm on the surface but with ripples of unease beneath. The high collar added a touch of elegance, and as I adjusted the buttons, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

The entire ensemble had a subtle charm, striking the perfect balance between modern and traditional. Polished black shoes completed the look, giving me a sense of composure.

With a deep breath, I stepped out, ready to face the chaos of the day ahead.

Mom, Dad, Rohan Bhai, and Bhabhi were already ready and waiting for me when I stepped out. Without wasting much time, we all got into the car and departed for the Sangeet venue.

Once we reached, Rohan Bhai and I helped carry the gifts upstairs. The place was buzzing with activity—decorators putting finishing touches, music echoing faintly in the background, and the scent of fresh flowers filling the air.

We were waiting near the entrance when the Kapoor family arrived. And with them... Ananya.

For a moment, everything seemed to fade—the noise, the people, the chaos. She walked in gracefully, effortlessly commanding attention. My eyes, despite my better judgment, refused to look away.

I just don’t understand—why does she always have to look this breathtaking?

She was wearing a royal blue lehenga that seemed to shimmer with every movement, the intricate mirror work catching the light and scattering tiny reflections around her like stars. The blouse was fitted, with long sleeves adorned in matching mirror embellishments, hugging her arms delicately. The sweetheart neckline subtly framed her collarbones, which were exquisitely defined, as if carved by an artist.

The dupatta, a sheer, ethereal fabric, was draped over her shoulder, its border detailed with sparkling patterns that seemed to dance with her steps. The skirt flowed gracefully around her, the layers moving like waves with each step she took.

Her jewelry was simple yet elegant—a choker that rested perfectly at the base of her neck, accentuating the delicate lines of her throat. A matching maang tikka adorned her forehead, adding a touch of traditional charm to her modern elegance.

She looked like a vision, effortless and breathtaking, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. How could someone appear so perfect and yet so untouchable?

I mentally vowed to keep my distance from her. Something about her felt dangerously magnetic, as if staying close—or worse, touching her—would be my undoing.

Both families greeted each other warmly, and Ananya and I took blessings from our elders before settling together on the stage. The atmosphere was lively—music filled the air, people were singing, and the dance floor was never empty.

Pooja, Ananya’s friend, performed a lively number, and of course, Karan joined her. This guy… does he even know how to dance? Watching him flail around was equal parts amusing and frustrating. Whatever.

But then, the idiot took the mic and announced a couple's dance—for Ananya and me. My jaw nearly dropped. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Ananya looked just as shocked as I felt.

We tried to decline, but there was no way out. The more we resisted, the louder the crowd got. Reluctantly, we stepped onto the stage.

“I… I don’t know how to do a couple dance,” she whispered, her voice laced with anxiety.

“It’s okay. Just trust me,” I replied softly, meeting her eyes. Her light brown eyes held me captive for a moment. They weren’t just one shade; they carried an entire spectrum of brown, like a warm, endless swirl.

“May I?” I asked, keeping my voice low. I wasn’t going to touch her without her consent, not after what happened at the mall.

Why the hell was I being so cautious? So... considerate?

She hesitated but then nodded, her reluctance evident in her gaze. Gently, I guided her hand to rest on my shoulder and took her other hand in mine. My free hand hovered for a moment before I carefully placed it on her back, ensuring I didn’t touch her bare skin or her waist.

Every movement felt deliberate, every touch calculated. I wasn’t sure if I was protecting her from discomfort—or myself from falling deeper into something I wasn’t ready to face.

The soft melody of "Tumko Paya Hai Toh Jaise Khoya Hoon" began to play, and we moved in sync, our steps deliberate and cautious. She was so close—closer than I had ever imagined she could be. My gaze flickered to her collarbones, sharply defined and mesmerizing. A fleeting thought crossed my mind—how would they feel under my fingertips?

Her lips caught my attention next—red, soft, and impossibly inviting. My thoughts veered into dangerous territory, thoughts I shouldn’t be having. Maybe she noticed the way my eyes lingered, because for a brief moment, she looked away, only to meet my gaze again.

I kept my focus on her face, resisting the temptation to let my eyes wander. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but I also couldn’t look away. Her light brown eyes held me captive, every fleeting glance and hesitant smile pulling me in deeper.

The song finally ended, though it felt like an eternity. Ananya leaned in slightly and whispered a soft, “Thank you,” her voice barely audible yet filled with sincerity. I nodded in acknowledgment, offering a silent welcome.

We stepped apart, the spell between us breaking. Without a word, we returned to our seats on the stage.

The evening unfolded in a blur of singing, dancing, and mingling with guests. Dinner was served, and both families sat together at one large table. Ananya was seated right beside me, close enough that I could feel her presence even without looking at her.

Every movement she made seemed effortlessly elegant—whether she was serving herself food, laughing softly at something someone said, or simply adjusting her dupatta. I couldn’t believe how utterly captivated I was by her. How had she managed to do this to me without even trying?

After dinner, I stepped out into the venue garden, seeking some fresh air to clear my mind of thoughts about Ananya. The stars above offered a moment of quiet, a brief escape from the chaos of the evening.

I didn’t even notice her approach until she broke the silence, her voice soft yet certain.
"It’s peaceful here, isn’t it? A nice break from all the noise inside."

We hadn’t really spoken much, and with our wedding tomorrow, it felt strange. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but something about her made it hard to ignore. I slid my hands into my pockets and replied, "It is. The stars make it… tolerable."

She smiled faintly, a flicker of amusement in her expression. "Tolerable? That’s quite an endorsement coming from you."

I glanced at her with a smirk. "I didn’t think you were paying attention to what I do or don’t endorse."

Ananya shrugged lightly, her tone casual yet perceptive. "It’s hard not to notice the groom who keeps to himself."

I paused, her words catching me off guard. My expression softened, almost involuntarily. "I guess I’m just not used to… all this attention."

She turned to face me, her gaze steady yet unassuming. "Neither am I. But it’s part of the deal, isn’t it?"

She was sharing this with me—a glimpse of her vulnerability. It wasn’t something anyone else would have guessed, not with how composed she seemed all evening. I nodded slowly, carefully masking my surprise. "I suppose it is."

After a brief silence, I added, "You seemed… different tonight. More relaxed. Happier."

Her eyes lowered, and for the first time, I noticed the absence of bangles or jewelry on her wrists. Her voice, quieter now, held a weight I couldn’t ignore. "This is what everyone expects. Isn’t that what we’re all doing right now?"

I noticed her unease.

Before I could say anything, she shook her head quickly, as if dismissing her own thoughts. "Nothing. It’s just nerves, I think. Big day tomorrow and all."

I studied her carefully, sensing there was more to her words, but I decided not to press. Instead, I offered a small reassurance. "Well, you pulled it off convincingly. No one would guess you’re nervous."

She smiled faintly, but then her expression shifted into something mischievous. "That’s the idea."

I was caught off guard by how effortlessly she could mask her feelings. If I weren’t standing here with her, I might never have guessed that there was more beneath her calm demeanor.

I suppressed the urge to tell her she didn’t have to pretend with me. But I didn’t feel like I had the right to say that—not when I was the one trying to keep my distance.

The night had stretched long, and our families were likely waiting for us. Without lingering further, I said, "Goodnight, Ananya."

She looked at me softly, her voice gentle as she replied, "Goodnight, Arjun."

After bidding farewell to both families, we returned home once the Kapoor family left. Much to my annoyance, Karan decided to tag along. Apparently, he got the idea from Ananya’s friend, Pooja, who is staying at her place too. I didn’t have the energy to kick his annoying ass out of my house. What a pest. Asshole.

After a long day, I took a warm shower to unwind and went straight to bed. As I lay there, the weight of it all hit me—I’m getting married tomorrow. Just a few hours separate me from the biggest day of my life for what I'm still not ready.

Ananya

I got ready for my Sangeet with Pooja helping me. I’ve never been a fan of dresses that reveal too much skin, but this one was different—elegant and beautiful. I liked it as long as nothing happened to make me regret wearing it or hate myself for stepping out of my comfort zone.

Once I was dressed, Isha entered the room holding a set of glass bangles. My eyes widened, and I instinctively looked away. “Anu Di, wear these churis. They’ll go perfectly with your outfit,” she said cheerfully.

I felt a lump in my throat. No... I couldn’t wear them.

Sensing my discomfort, Pooja stepped in and gently took the bangles from Isha. “Isha, your Anu Di is already wearing a stunning ring and these beautiful bracelets. That’s more than enough for her—she’s already looking breathtaking,” Pooja said warmly, her tone kind and reassuring.

I silently thanked her with all my heart. Thankfully, Isha didn’t insist further.

When we arrived at the venue, my eyes immediately found Arjun. His deep teal sherwani suited him perfectly, accentuating his sharp features. Had I ever mentioned how dangerously handsome he is?

After greeting Mom, Dad, Rohan Bhai, and Bhabi, I found myself seated beside him. Everything was going smoothly until Karan Bhai called us for a couple’s dance. My heart raced with a mix of shock and nervousness.

I had touched Arjun’s hand briefly during our engagement, but a couple’s dance? That felt like an entirely different level of closeness, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

“I… I don’t know how to do a couple’s dance,” I whispered to Arjun, my voice shaky.

“It’s okay. Just trust me,” he replied softly, his voice steady and comforting.

“May I?” he asked, extending his hand.

I nodded hesitantly, grateful for his patience.

He led me to the dance floor, his movements careful and respectful. Not once did his touch stray to bare skin, and his gentle demeanor put me at ease. How many men would ask their soon-to-be wife for permission like this? Arjun wasn’t like most men. He was different—thoughtful, kind.

I couldn’t deny it anymore—I was starting to like him. Not love, though. I wasn’t ready for that. Love scared me; it held the power to break me. For now, this was enough.

After dinner, I stepped into the garden for some air and found Arjun standing there, gazing at the stars. A part of me hesitated, but I knew I had to talk to him. After all, our wedding was tomorrow, and we hadn’t really had a proper conversation yet.

As we spoke, I felt my guard slip, my true feelings threatening to surface. But I quickly masked them again. If Arjun noticed, he didn’t push me. He respected my boundaries, and for that, I was thankful.

When it was time to leave, we said our goodbyes to everyone. Our family left first, followed shortly by the Malhotras.

After we got home, I showered and changed into comfortable clothes. Just as I was about to climb into bed, Pooja walked into my room.

"Are you okay, Anu? About the couple dance?" she asked, her concern evident.

I offered her a soft smile and nodded.

"That Karan! I swear, I should’ve killed him for putting you on the spot," she grumbled, making me chuckle.

"I’m tolerating him only because he’s Jiju’s friend and treats you like a real sister," I said.

"Jiju? You’re already calling Arjun that?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. "Of course! After all, you’re getting married tomorrow, babydoll."

Her words suddenly sent a wave of anxiety through me. The thought of tomorrow made my chest tighten.

"Pooja..." I called her name, my voice trembling.

She immediately noticed my unease. "What’s wrong, Anu?"

"I’m scared, Pooja," I admitted, the words rushing out before I could stop them. "I don’t know if I can leave my past behind. I know Arjun isn’t like... him. He’s a gentleman. He’s been so careful not to make me uncomfortable. But still..."

"But what, Anu? Why are you scared? Jiju’s been nothing but kind to you."

"I’m scared that I won’t be able to give him what he wants. The very thought of... intimacy terrifies me," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Did Jiju ever say he expects anything like that?" Pooja asked gently.

I shook my head.

"Then why are you assuming things, Anu?" she said firmly.

"But—"

"No buts," she interrupted, her tone soft but decisive. "Just take things one step at a time. Go with the flow. Who knows? Maybe Jiju will end up being the one to help you heal."

Her words lingered in the air, offering a glimmer of comfort. Maybe Pooja was right. Maybe I was overthinking.

"You should sleep now, Anu," she said, patting my shoulder. "Tomorrow is your big day."

I nodded, the weight in my chest easing slightly. As I lay down, I tried to push my worries aside and let sleep take over.

                                 ♡♡

Mamma wake me up too early. She thinks we will be late if I don't start getting ready from early.
"Anu beta. You get ready. We will do other works. Your work it to look pretty. "She smiled and left leaving Pooja with me to help.

As I stood before the mirror, my eyes trailed over the intricate embroidery of the dress. The deep maroon lehenga was a masterpiece, every inch adorned with delicate gold threadwork that seemed to tell a story of timeless elegance. The patterns, so intricate and precise, danced across the fabric like whispers of royalty.

The dupatta draped over my shoulder shimmered softly, its tiny sequins catching the light and giving it an ethereal glow. It felt both heavy and delicate, as if I was carrying centuries of tradition on my shoulders.

The long sleeves hugged my arms, each inch of the lace intricately embroidered, almost as if a thousand hands had worked tirelessly to create this work of art. The skirt flowed like a river, its weight grounding me in the moment while the soft rustle of the fabric reminded me of the significance of the day.

This dress wasn’t just a bridal outfit—it was a symbol of the life I was stepping into. I ran my fingers over the golden patterns, feeling their texture, their history. It was beautiful, no doubt, but I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. It felt like the dress was meant for a queen, but did I have the strength to be one?

"Oh my gosh, babydoll! You're looking absolutely stunning!" Pooja's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, her excitement lighting up the room.

Before I could respond, Mamma and Isha joined in, their faces glowing with admiration.

"You look like a queen, Anu," Isha gushed.

Mamma smiled warmly, her eyes glistening with emotion. She stepped forward and placed a kala tika behind my ear, murmuring a soft prayer to ward off the evil eye.

"May you always stay happy, my child," she whispered, her voice filled with both pride and bittersweet love.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. The time had come. It was time to leave behind the familiar comfort of my home and step into a new chapter of life—with new people, new challenges, and new beginnings.

As the car pulled up outside, signaling my departure, I silently wished myself good luck. I would need it.

Arjun

We're entering in the venue with barat. The maroon velvet stole draped over my shoulder feels heavier than it looks, its intricate gold embroidery catching the soft glow of the evening lights. The ivory sherwani, tailored to perfection, clings to me like a second skin, every thread a testament to tradition and grandeur. My fingers instinctively adjust the pearl strings adorning my chest, a regal touch that matches the elegance of the occasion. The handcrafted juttis on my feet carry a quiet dignity, each step deliberate as I lead the barat toward the venue. The air buzzes with music and cheer, yet my focus is unwavering—soon, I’ll meet the woman who, against all odds, fate has entwined with mine.

As soon as we entered, Ma performed my aarti with a radiant smile, her eyes shimmering with emotion. The fragrance of incense lingered in the air as I stepped inside, surrounded by the cheerful buzz of family and friends. Now, I’m seated on the intricately decorated mandap, every detail a blend of tradition and elegance. My heart beats steadily as I wait for my bride to arrive, anticipation coursing through me. The room is alive with celebration, yet my focus remains on the moment I’ll see her walking toward me even if I don't want to focus, marking the beginning of our journey together.

The moment she descended the stairs, I was done. Everything around me blurred into the background as my eyes locked on her. Her wedding dress, a masterpiece of deep maroon and intricate golden embroidery, shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers. The long, trailing veil added a regal grace, making her seem almost ethereal.

She walked with a poise that seemed effortless, yet her eyes hinted at a storm of emotions—nervousness, strength, and a guarded vulnerability. I couldn’t help but notice the way the jewels on her dress caught the light or how the intricate patterns of her attire seemed to weave a story.

Something about her did something inside me—a pull I neither understood nor welcomed. I didn’t want this marriage, didn’t want to feel anything for her, but every time she was near, I found myself unable to look away. I couldn’t explain it, and I didn’t want to. Yet, here I was, captivated by a woman I was determined not to care about.

She stepped in front of me, her gaze lowered but her presence commanding. Papa placed her delicate hands in mine, and I carefully took them, mindful of her sensitivity. At least I’d gathered this much about her—she seemed cautious, perhaps even wary, when it came to physical contact with the opposite sex. Her hands felt light yet firm in mine, and I made sure my grip was gentle, almost protective.

Protective?

I chose to let my inner voice slide for now.

There was no mehndi on her hands, no chura adorning her wrists, yet that didn’t diminish her grace or beauty. If anything, it made her seem even more unique—an understated elegance that didn’t need embellishments to shine. Together, we walked toward the mandap, step by step, our movements synchronized as though rehearsed.

The vermala ritual was a whirlwind of laughter, cheering, and playful chaos. Garlands exchanged, petals showering us, and the hum of family and friends filled the air. Now, the time had come for the pheras—the vows saat phera that would bind us together,  whether I wanted it or not. I took a deep breath, glancing at her briefly, wondering what was going through her mind as we prepared to take this irrevocable step.

It was time for Sindoor Daan. I took the vermilion and gently filled the partition of Ananya’s hair. A bit of it fell onto her nose, and I caught myself smiling. It felt oddly significant, as though even the vermilion was claiming her as mine.

Mine? Since when did you start wanting to make her yours?

My thoughts keep making me surprise.

Mom handed me the mangalsutra, and with steady hands, I tied it around her neck. The sacred thread rested lightly on her collarbone, its weight symbolizing our bond.

Pandit Ji announced solemnly, "Vivah sampann hua" ("The wedding is complete").

We were husband and wife now. The reality of it settled over me like a quiet storm—intense yet oddly calming.

Together, Ananya and I stood to take blessings from our parents. Mom and Dad blessed us to always be happy, their eyes glistening with joy. Ma and Papa followed, their smiles warm and reassuring as they placed their hands on our heads.

Then came Bhai and Bhabhi, their congratulations heartfelt. But Karan, ever the protective brother, looked me straight in the eyes and said sternly, “Don’t you dare hurt my sister. And don’t think for a second that she’s alone. Her Karan bhai will always have her back.”

For a moment, he wasn’t my friend but her brother, her fierce protector. And though his warning carried a sharp edge, I couldn’t help but admire his devotion. Ananya was lucky to have a brother like him, even if he had a penchant for flirting shamelessly with Pooja.

Ananya glanced at Karan, her eyes shimmering. They were watery, but she didn’t cry. She simply smiled at him—a soft, grateful smile that spoke volumes.

Pooja and Isha approached next, wrapping Ananya in a warm embrace before turning to me.

“Congratulations, Jiju! Please take care of our Ananya,” Pooja said with a teasing grin. Then she leaned in closer and whispered, “She’s actually very sensitive inside, even if she seems tough on the outside. Not everyone knows that, so please adore her. She needs it.”

Her words lingered, leaving me slightly confused yet deeply contemplative. Did I not already sense that? Before I could respond, Pooja turned back to Ananya, hugging her again as though she hadn’t just dropped a small yet weighty truth on me.

Ananya didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and chose not to react. Either way, her quiet strength radiated through the room, even as Pooja’s words echoed softly in my mind.

Everyone around us is brimming with happiness. Music fills the air, adding to the celebratory mood. But now, it’s time for vidai.

Ananya’s family gathers around her, hugging her tightly and bidding her goodbye. To my utter surprise, she isn’t crying. Her eyes glisten, reflecting unspoken emotions, but not a single tear falls.

Is she really this good at controlling herself? Or is there something else she’s holding back…?

I have to admit, she is nothing like I imagined. She holds herself together remarkably well—perhaps too well. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still the elder one. She is someone like my brother.

Or maybe not. My inner voice said leaving me more conflicted than ever.

After the vidayi, we sat in the car to head to my house. Ananya kept her gaze lowered, her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her dress. I glanced at her and asked softly, "Are you okay?"

She nodded slightly, her delicate jewelry producing a faint jingling sound. A small, hesitant smile graced her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

When we arrived at the house, I stepped out of the car first, then walked around to open the door for her. Offering her my hand, I helped her step down. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the rhythmic beat of the dhol filled the air, announcing our arrival.

Mom stood at the entrance, her face glowing with joy. Holding a lit aarti plate, she welcomed us with a prayer, circling the plate in front of us. Afterward, she placed a brass kalash filled with rice near Ananya’s feet.

"Beta, gently kick the kalash to mark your entry into our home," Mom said warmly.

Ananya followed her instructions, nudging the kalash with her toes, sending the rice scattering forward—a symbol of prosperity entering the house.

"Welcome to our family, beta," Mom said, her voice brimming with affection.

Ananya managed a shy smile, her eyes flickering up momentarily before she stepped into the house beside me. It was the start of a new chapter for both of us.

It was already late by the time we reached. Mom and Bhabhi gently guided Ananya to my room, leaving me behind. Before I could follow, Karan caught my arm and led me to a quieter corner.

“Listen, Arjun,” he began, his tone serious yet laced with concern. “I know you see this marriage as just an obligation. You think Ananya is just like any other person who puts herself and her happiness first. But take a closer look. She’s not what you think.”

I frowned slightly, unsure of where this conversation was heading, but Karan pressed on.

“She’s innocent, Arjun. Kind-hearted in a way that’s rare. And fragile too, though she may never show it. Promise me you won’t hurt her,” he said firmly, his gaze locking with mine.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to stop me. “More importantly,” he continued, “if you’re stepping into this relationship, do it right. Be honest with her—about everything. That includes the real reason behind this marriage. She deserves to know.”

I stayed silent, the weight of his words settling over me. All I could do was nod.

Karan sighed, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Arjun, this isn’t just about duty. It’s about a person’s life—her life. Don’t take it lightly.”

I gave him a faint smile, but inside, my mind was already spinning with thoughts I wasn’t quite ready to confront.

I stepped into the room and saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands nervously clutching the folds of her saree. She looked up as I entered, her expression a mix of apprehension and exhaustion. The weight of the evening hung between us, unspoken but palpable.

I cleared my throat, unsure of how to begin. “Ananya, we need to talk,” I said, my voice steady but low.

She nodded, her gaze lowering again, and I walked over to the window, staring out into the night. It felt easier to speak without looking directly at her.

“I won’t sugarcoat things,” I started, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want this marriage.”

I heard her sharp intake of breath, but I pushed forward, needing to get it all out. “I never wanted to get married. Not now, maybe not ever. But my parents…” I paused, clenching my fists by my sides. “They wanted this. They wanted you. And I couldn’t say no to them.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and I forced myself to turn around and face her. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes fixed on me, waiting.

“I don’t believe in love, Ananya,” I admitted, my voice softer now. “I think it’s a weakness, something that blinds you and makes you vulnerable. And I’ve spent my life avoiding that.”

Her eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe? I wasn’t sure. But I owed her honesty.

“That said,” I continued, taking a step closer, “I will be fair to you. I promise you that. I will not hurt you, Ananya. Whatever this relationship turns out to be, you will never feel disrespected or unwanted.”

Her lips parted, as though she wanted to say something, but I held up a hand. “One more thing,” I said firmly. “Now that we’re married, there will only be you in my life. I may not be able to promise love, but I can promise loyalty. You’ll have no one else to compete with.”

She blinked, her eyes glistening slightly, but she didn’t let a tear fall. She was stronger than I had imagined.

I took a step back, giving her space. “I just thought you should know where I stand. If you have anything to say, I’m listening.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her gaze shifting to the floor. Then she whispered, almost inaudibly, “Thank you for being honest, Arjun.”

She surprised me with a small smile. “As long as it’s only me in your life,” she said softly, “I’m willing to try—even if you don’t believe in love. I’ll try my best.”

Her words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn’t find a response. How could she accept so little and still give so much?

Then she nervously swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. “You were honest with me,” she began, her voice wavering. “I… I… also want to say something to you. But…” She looked down, hesitating. “I’m not ready. Not yet.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance. “Will you wait for me?”

I held her gaze, studying the vulnerability etched across her face. Her courage in admitting her hesitation moved something deep within me.

“I will,” I said firmly, my voice steady. “Take all the time you need, Ananya. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen. Until then, you don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and a hint of relief softened her features. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

I nodded, stepping back to give her space. “This is new for both of us,” I said quietly. “We’ll figure it out one step at a time. Together.”

Her lips curved into a faint, hopeful smile, and for the first time that evening, the tension between us seemed to ease.

She excused herself and disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, she emerged, dressed in a simple, comfortable kurti. The soft fabric draped over her slender frame, and despite the simplicity of her outfit, she managed to look effortlessly elegant.

For a moment, I couldn’t help but notice how the simplicity suited her—graceful, understated, yet undeniably striking. Realizing I was staring, I quickly forced myself to look away, pretending to adjust the blanket on the bed.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom. I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, the casual attire feeling like a relief after the weight of the day.

When I stepped back into the room, Ananya was already settling herself on the bed, her back resting against the headboard, her gaze distant but calm. I hesitated for a moment before walking over to my side of the bed, trying to ignore the strange sense of ease and tension coexisting in the air.

It was going to be a long night, but somehow, it didn’t feel quite as daunting as I’d expected.

Ananya sat quietly on one side of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air between us.

I cleared my throat, glancing at the couch in the corner. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” I said, breaking the silence. “You can take the bed. It’s more comfortable.”

She looked up, startled. “You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.

“It’s fine,” I replied quickly, brushing off her protest. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She hesitated for a moment before meeting my gaze. “You won’t.”

Her calm assurance caught me off guard, but she wasn’t finished. “Arjun, I trust you,” she said, her voice steady despite the faint blush on her cheeks. “I know you won’t cross any boundaries. We’re married now, and this is as much your space as it is mine.”

I looked at her, unsure how to respond. There was no trace of fear or hesitation in her eyes—only trust. It felt heavy, like a responsibility I wasn’t sure I deserved.

“You’re sure?” I asked, my tone softer now.

She nodded. “I’m sure. You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable because of me.”

I let out a slow breath and gave a faint nod. “Alright,” I said, walking over to the other side of the bed. “But if you ever feel uncomfortable, just let me know. I’ll move without a second thought.”

She smiled, the kind of small, tentative smile that said she was trying her best to adjust, just like me.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she adjusted the pillow on her side.

I lay down, keeping a careful distance between us, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. This wasn’t how I had imagined my first night of marriage would go—not that I had imagined it at all—but somehow, it didn’t feel as strange as I thought it would.

“Good night, Ananya,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Good night, Arjun,” she replied, her tone soft but sincere.

And for the first time in years, I felt a faint, inexplicable sense of peace as I drifted off to sleep

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