Kavya's POV
The car halted in front of the law department building. Students moved in groups, chatting, laughing. I watched them through the tinted glass, my fingers tightly curled into my lap.
My eyes feel heavy, I had barely slept. Just cried,over the past that's not gonna turn back to me.
Especially when I'm someone's wife..
But My mind, it had kept replaying that moment,from my childhood.. my parents.
I shook my head, but then another wave of memory, when I stopped him. The confusion in his eyes followed by desire. Dark desire.
But then,the way his touch changed—from demanding to gentle. Like he was holding something fragile... like he didn't want to break me.
I sensed from him that he isn't a man I'm afraid of. He seems dangerous but he is not.
After all, I'm a law student..
Grow up Kavya!
How long you gonna keep holding fear.
I inhaled deeply.
But then, The car door opened.
I blinked and looked up. Kabir stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other reaching out for me. Not a word spoken.
He didn't seem angry. Just... unreadable. Gentle.
I hesitated, then placed my hand in his. His fingers curled protectively around mine. Strong. Warm. And this time... not possessive.
Just steady.
"Text me when you're done," he said quietly, his voice deep but calm.
I hesitated to ask,but then I stammered, "Your.. Phone Number..I.. don't have that.."
His lips curled,he extended his hand. "Can I feed that in your phone?" He asked gently
I nodded. And taking out my phone immediately I placed it in his huge palm, almost the size of my phone.
He held the phone firmly, within a second feeding the number and extending it back my side.
I didn't look up in his eyes, I just kept my eyes lowered or may be just on his fingers moving so elegantly just to save a contact card.
I was lost, almost forgot to take my phone back until.
"Kavya.."
His firm voice and I shivered. I nodded and turned my heels to walk away.
"It's saved as Hubby.. Don't get confused.."
My face burned.
Hubby.
Not "Kabir." Not "Husband." Not even "Mister Oberoi."
Hubby.
Like we were… normal.
Like he'd been mine for years.
Like he was already settled into that role—even if I hadn't yet let him.
I gripped the phone tightly, almost crushing it between my fingers as I walked away, my footsteps echoing far louder than they should have in the parking lot.
I took a few slow steps toward the college gate, each one heavier than the last. My heart thumped like a warning drum inside my chest—loud and restless. Something pulled at me, like an invisible thread refusing to break.
And then, without thinking, I turned back.
There he stood—Kabir Singh Oberoi—leaning casually against the car, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the open door, his gaze fixed solely on me.
My breath caught.
He wasn't saying anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. That quiet dominance, that unreadable calm, like he knew things I didn't. Like he already owned what I was still trying to understand about myself.
And then he smiled.
Not a wide, flashy smile. Just the softest curl of his lips. Subtle, confident… and so warm that it hit me like a jolt.
I froze.
Why did that smile feel so personal?
Before I could understand what was happening, he slid back into the driver's seat, his eyes never once leaving mine until the tinted glass slowly rolled up, sealing him away like a secret I wasn't allowed to touch.
The black BMW purred to life and disappeared down the road.
Taking a breath that felt like the first one in minutes, I turned and stepped inside the college gate, clutching my phone like it was something sacred.
In that lingering silence he left behind, echoing louder than any noise around me.
The buzz of students filled the campus—friends calling each other, groups laughing under the old neem tree, girls clicking selfies, boys hovering nearby trying to act cool. But none of it touched me.
I was still stuck in his smile.
For a second, it wasn't the college I was seeing—it was him.
His fingers.
The effortless way they moved across my screen like they owned it... like they owned me.
My stomach flipped.
I shouldn't react like this. Not when I was still trying to figure out what this marriage meant. What this man is..
But somehow, a tiny part of me—one I didn't want to admit even existed—felt something flutter at that word.
Hubby.
I bit my lip and glanced down at the screen.
There it was. The contact list, freshly updated. One new name.
Hubby ♥️
I swallowed. He even added a
Heart emoji. Clingy...
Or Possessive.
Or loving..
Shut up!
This isn't a romantic novel where arrange marriages, not even that a buisness relationship that we have. Turns into a possessive romance, every girl dreams for.
This is my life. Where truth hurts more that wounds. Nothing can go smoothly.
No one can love me with a motive.
So do he.
He is just using me, to take over Dad's buisness, Rule them!
He isn't a charming hero, I should die over.
No Kavya.
Keep focusing on your career rather than him.
I shook my head quickly and tried to focus on my schedule. I had classes to attend. Professors to face. Notes to revise.
But as I settled into my lecture and the professor's voice echoed through the room, my thoughts betrayed me again. Real soon it was 5 PM.
The usual time Dad's driver came to pick me up everyday but not today.
Every day before he wanted his Daughter at home before clock hit 7 PM. But now,he handed over her to another man.
To bound?
Or to become backbone..
I don't know..
But I remember the day I Agreed to marry him, knowing this may turn into loveless marriage or a toxic relationship.
But, Kabir..he didn't seem like any of them. He is gentle with me.
I tapped on his contact and stared at it, thumb hovering over the screen.
Hubby.
Why did that word hit harder than it should have?
But now...Should I text him?
He said to text when I'm done.
But he didn't ask... it felt more like a silent command dressed in silk.
Still, I typed.
"Done with class.."
I stared at the message before hitting send.
And then waited.
Ten seconds. Thirty. One minute.
No reply.
Of course not. He's probably busy with… whatever empire he's running.
Or maybe he didn't care. Who cares about me..
I sighed and just as I was to slip the phone back into my bag. He called me.
His contact info covering my screen.
My hand trembled.
The way they never do in Viva.
Not even in case files.
But it did for him.
I was to pick it up. But then miss call.
I shut my eyes close. And next moment again his call.
I picked it up.
"Hello.." a gentle voice.
"Are you fine wife?" His voice flirty and I can imagine that smirk on his face.
I just hummed.
"Give me 15 minutes please.."
Another humm followed before he cut the call. My lungs finally felt the oxygen.
The 15 minutes, I stood at the college gate. Abd than that familiar car. His car.
I myself opened the door before he could come out and settled there.
He still smiled at me.
"How was your day?"
"Good.." I replied with a faint smile. Being a mannered girl I asked him too, "Your!"
"Great! Afterall I saw my wifey in the morning..."
His words, so smooth,so charming, making my heart flutter.
My mind is betraying me around him, when I have carefully built myself not to love any Man!
But this man is something else.
I met him yesterday..
Abd he makes me feel like his world, already..
Buisness Kavya!
I reminded myself.
The car ride was slow… almost too quiet.
But not uncomfortable.
Just filled with a strange kind of tension—the kind that wrapped around my lungs and made it harder to breathe the longer we sat in silence.
Then, without warning, his deep voice broke the calm.
"What's your favourite flower, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart.
My breath hitched. A nickname already?
I turned my head to look at him—slowly, carefully.
His hand was on the wheel, his gaze still fixed ahead, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Like he already knew I was staring.
Still, being the well-mannered girl I was raised to be, I answered softly, "Lily."
His smirk deepened. "Great."
Before I could even register what he meant, the car pulled to a smooth stop.
I blinked.
We weren't on some crowded street or next to a roadside vendor.
We had stopped in front of a grand, glass-walled flower boutique—the kind that didn't display prices, because the people shopping here didn't care to ask.
I turned to him, confused. "Here?"
Without replying, he stepped out and walked around to my side, the crisp sound of his boots hitting the pavement echoing in the quiet air.
He opened my door like a gentleman, his tall frame towering above me, hand extended with practiced ease.
This time, I gave him my hand, but not without whispering,
"Here? Why?"
His thumb gently brushed across my knuckles as he helped me up, eyes locked on mine with quiet authority.
"Have patience, wifey."
Wifey.
I felt my cheeks flush. The word sounded sinful coming from his mouth—like a promise and a threat, both wrapped in velvet.
I nodded silently.
We walked into the boutique, the scent of thousands of flowers wrapping around me like a dreamy perfume. The space was pristine—white marble floors, glass vases shimmering under warm lighting, and orchids and exotic blooms arranged like pieces of art.
A man in a black suit approached immediately.
"Good evening, sir. Ma'am."
He bowed slightly, recognizing Kabir instantly.
Without a beat, Kabir said in his smooth, commanding tone:
"I need every lily you have in this shop. They're all for my wife."
My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat.
Every lily?
I instinctively turned toward him. "It's not needed… I—what will I even do with so many? One is more than enough, really…"
I regretted it the second the words left my lips.
His head turned toward me, slowly.
His gaze darkened.
Not angry—no. But intense.
Possessive.
A warning wrapped in silence.
I lowered my eyes immediately, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. My voice shrank.
"…I just meant—it's too much…"
He stepped closer.
"Let me buy them for you, Kavya," he murmured, voice lower now, velvety but heavy with something unspoken.
Then, softer… his fingers brushed my cheek, sending a tremble straight down my spine.
"My lily."
Just those two words.
And I could feel my entire body burning—from his gaze, from his touch, from the weight of his attention.
The way he said it, like I was the flower.
Delicate. Fragrant. His.
My lips parted to speak but no words came.
His fingers lingered on my cheekbone, thumb caressing it like I was too fragile to be touched. But his eyes—those stormy, piercing eyes—spoke something else entirely.
Not fragile.
Mine.
The man at the counter had already disappeared into the back room, calling his staff in hushed urgency. Bouquets of lilies—white, pink, even the rare purple hybrids—were being arranged behind us as if the entire shop had turned into a shrine for one woman.
For me.
I didn't know whether to blush or run.
But one thing was clear…
This man didn't do small gestures.
And I wasn't just his wife on paper.
I was becoming his obsession...