Second day of marriage.
And yet, all this happened.
Even if he never loved me, atleast there could have been trust between us.
I was sitting in front of the mirror, doing my makeup.
Light.
Subtle.
The only benefit of this contract marriage? I wasn't expected to dress heavily like a traditional bride.
No array of bangles reaching my elbows.
No heavy makeup or adorning of henna.
I dislike henna.
Everyone has their choices, so here's mine.
I never had henna on my hands.
and never even wanted to...
Footsteps approaching.
It's him.
I didn't look.
didn't glance.
Casually, he came and stood behind me, grooming himself while seeing his reflection in the mirror.
I furiously closed my makeup box and continued making my hair.
Am I scared of him? No.
Will I change my routine because of him? No.
I noticed his eyes glancing on me.
and then, back at the mirror.
"Why are you looking at me?" I asked him.
"Don't be delusional." Calm, cold.
"Then control your eyes." I pouted furiously while wearing my blue bangles which nearly hurted my hand.
"Will my control on eyes ensure that your two braincells will work properly?" He smirked lightly and bent slowly, taking my hand in his and securely pushing the bangle to my wrist.
"I hate you." I muttered inaudibly under my breath, glaring at him.
"Guess what?" He raised one of his eyebrows. "Me too."
I rolled my eyes from him. He stood up and forwarded his tie to me.
"Tie this." He commanded.
"On a saree? me?" I asked him pointing at myself, my eyes widened in shock.
"On my collar."
"What? but you know how to tie it!"
"I do but, you have my favour on you."
"Which favour?" I stood folding my arms on my chest.
"I helped you with bangles." He stated.
"I didn't ask for that."
"But I did, now you do compensation."
He insisted.
Cold.
But with a hint of smirk.
A challenge.
A dare.
"Fine." I passed him a mocking forced smile and took the tie from his hand. "But if you die because of me accidentally... I'll become a forced contract marriage widow." A dramatic sigh before I started tying the tie around his collar.
"You won't." He said and pulled me closer to him by my waist. "Because I won't let you." A gentle pinch on my waist. I gasped, glaring at him.
"Try me." He dared.
His voice dropped just enough to make my breath hitch.
Not loud.
Not threatening.
Just… certain.
I tightened the knot of his tie a little more than necessary.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't react.
Just watched me.
"Done," I said curtly, stepping back.
His gaze lingered.
A second longer than needed.
Then—
"Messy."
I frowned. "Excuse me?"
Before I could move, his fingers came up—
Adjusting the tie.
Brushing against my knuckles.
Deliberate.
Slow.
"There," he said finally.
"Now it's acceptable."
I scoffed.
"Then why make me do it?"
A pause.
His lips curved faintly.
"To see if you'd ruin it."
I rolled my eyes again.
But didn't respond.
Because—
for some reason—
it didn't feel like an insult.
(Dining Hall)
I was already seated when everyone else arrived.
Quiet. Composed.
Waiting.
The food was served.
Plates filled.
Voices floated lightly across the table.
But I didn't touch anything.
Not yet.
A few glances came my way.
Subtle.
Curious.
I ignored them.
Footsteps.
Vivaan.
He entered like he always did.
Controlled. Effortless. Unbothered.
He took his seat.
Didn't look at me immediately.
Didn't acknowledge anything.
The servant served him.
Only then—
he picked up his spoon.
And only then—
I did too.
A small thing.
Insignificant to others.
But not to him.
Because I saw it.
That one glance.
Brief.
Sharp.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
He took the first bite.
And then—
stopped.
Just like that.
His hand hovered mid-air.
Still.
Not eating.
Not moving.
Watching.
Calculating.
I followed his line of sight.
Ayesha.
She was calm.
Too calm.
Eating normally.
No hesitation.
No nervousness.
But something felt…
off.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Observing her the way he was.
Then—
his gaze shifted.
Rushaan.
Leaning back.
Relaxed.
A faint smile played on his lips.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But there.
Careless.
Confident.
Too confident.
Vivaan's fingers tightened slightly around the spoon.
Still no second bite.
His gaze lingered.
A moment longer.
Then he leaned back.
Finally eating again.
As if nothing had happened.
But something had.
I could feel it.
(Night)
The room felt heavier than before.
"I'm not sleeping here tonight."
My voice was calm.
Almost casual.
He didn't respond immediately.
"No."
Flat.
I smiled faintly.
Not amused.
Not angry.
Just… sharp.
"I wasn't asking."
I turned.
Walked out.
No hesitation.
No drama.
Footsteps followed.
Fast.
Controlled.
He knew.
If anyone saw—
questions would follow.
And he didn't like questions.
I reached the corridor.
Almost near the stairs.
And then—
Silence.
His footsteps stopped.
I turned slightly.
He wasn't looking at me.
He was listening.
Voices.
Low. Sharp.
Rushaan.
"…samajh nahi aata tumhe?" irritation laced every word.
Ayesha.
"I did what you asked."
Calm.
A pause.
"That's not enough."
Silence.
"You'll do more."
No response.
Then—
"You don't want the truth out, do you?"
Stillness.
Ayesha didn't deny.
Didn't argue.
And that—
was louder than anything.
I frowned.
Stepping closer.
But before I could speak—
A hand.
Over my mouth.
Firm.
I froze.
Vivaan.
His grip wasn't rough.
But it didn't allow resistance.
"Quiet."
Barely a whisper.
And then—
He lifted me.
Effortlessly.
My eyes widened.
What is wrong with this man?!
But I couldn't protest.
Not with his hand still over my mouth.
He walked back.
Steps steady.
Unhurried.
As if carrying me like this—
was completely normal.
The door opened.
Closed.
Silence again.
He placed me on the bed.
Removed his hand.
Stepped back.
And just like that—
distance restored.
As if nothing happened.
For two seconds—
I just stared at him.
Then—
I threw a pillow furiously at him.
"What was THAT?!"
My voice wasn't calm.
"Why did you bring me back?!"
Another pillow.
"Do you have any idea—"
He caught it mid-air.
Effortlessly.
Of course.
His lips curved slightly.
Not amused.
Not mocking.
Just… knowing.
"Finished?" he asked calmly.
I glared at him.
"No."
"Then continue."
Infuriating.
Absolutely infuriating.
"You don't get to just—carry me around like that!"
"I just did."
Silence.
I stared at him.
Speechless for a second.
Then scoffed.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to stay here."
He tilted his head slightly.
Watching me.
Not arguing.
Observing.
"Trust issues, right?" I added, quieter now.
A pause.
He didn't deny.
Didn't accept.
Just walked closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
"Or maybe," he said slowly,
"because you like running away."
My brows furrowed.
"I don't run."
"You just did."
I let out a dry laugh.
"I left. There's a difference."
Silence.
Then—
his lips curved again.
Faint.
Dangerous.
"You can leave the room."
A step closer.
"But not the role."
My breath stilled.
"And what role is that?" I asked.
His gaze locked onto mine.
Unmoving.
"Mine."
A pause.
"My wife."
The word lingered.
Heavy.
Possessive.
Controlled.
I exhaled slowly.
"Contract wife," I corrected.
His smirk deepened slightly.
"As you like."
And just like that—
he turned away.
Conversation over.
But something had shifted.
"You are the biggest badtameez I have seen in my life." I shouted at him and was about to throw a pillow at him again but I felt something hard in the pillow.
Something which wasn't cotton.
"V..Vivaan darling." I called to him in calm voice, but my face expressions? Fear.
He turned around.
Shocked.
But calm.
I know darling must have sounded weird to him. Well, it felt weird to me too.
But what if it was a mic? Everytime we said contract marriage, it was low, almost inaudible except us both.
But still if by any chance the person heard that.
I had to maintain semblance; I was still HIS.
I slowly pointed at the pillow.
He came closer.
Took the pillow and
his hand also...
felt that device.