I couldn't hear a word.
"Karan, are you there?"
"Open the door. Maybe he's asleep," Divya said.
I followed her suggestion and opened the door.
I couldn't see anything. It was too dark.
I sat down for a moment, placed the wine glasses on the floor, switched on my phone's flashlight, and stood up again.
There was nobody in the room.
"Is he sleeping?" Divya asked.
"No."
I paused, scanning the room again.
"It's empty."
Saying those words made something inside me sink. I had wanted this marriage to run smoothly for three years—just three years—so that my parents would have no reason to question it. But it seemed I had already failed on the very first day.
"It's okay. Come back," Divya said.
I turned and started walking back toward my room.
"Aayna, is that you?"
Karan's voice.
I turned around. He was stepping out of the washroom.
"Yes."
I smiled and let out a small, awkward laugh.
"He's in the room! Yes, yes, yes!" Divya started celebrating from inside my room.
"Now I shouldn't hear the rest of this conversation," she added. "You two enjoy the wine."
He glanced at the bedside table where a digital watch lay.
"It's already 10:45," he said. "What are you doing in my room at this hour?"
Then his gaze shifted from my face to my hands, where I was holding the wine glasses.
His expression grew even more confused.
What should I say?
That I came here to seduce you so you wouldn't leave the house to visit some prostitute?
The thought alone made me feel ashamed. Guilty. The pressure of making this marriage work—of not giving my parents a reason to complain—felt overwhelming.
He took a step forward.
"Hey?"
"I couldn't sleep," I said quickly. "It's a new house. And I wanted to ask you a few questions about the Khano tribes too. So I thought… maybe if you were awake, we could talk."
It was the best excuse I could come up with in those few seconds.
"Oh. I usually don't stay up this late, but today I can sit with you for ten minutes."
He yawned.
"But I'm really tired."
Did Varun trick me? Why did he send me to a brother who sleeps this early?
Karan took me to his balcony. The view from there was beautiful.
He pointed toward a chair and sat down beside me. I offered him a glass of wine.
"Our Khano tribe is a very close-knit tribe. We provide a safe space to every family within it," he said. I could hear the pride in his voice. "There aren't many tribes in this world that value their culture and traditions the way we do. Right?"
I nodded and took a sip of my wine. He wasn't wrong. Me sitting there with a strange man—now calling him my husband—was a living example of exactly what he meant.
"There are many rules in our tribe that help in the smooth functioning of society," he said. "You must know that already. But it will take you some time to learn them all, so don't pressure yourself."
I smiled.
It felt as if I were talking to someone much older.
"I have a question," I said. "Why did you all choose to marry me when the three of you could have wives of your own?"
The moment he heard that, he laughed.
"You can have a girlfriend for yourself," he said, "but not a wife. That's the tradition. Otherwise the property would be divided into three parts."
A man so rich… worried about property division.
"So did you all have separate girlfriends," I asked, "or the same one?"
"I would never share my girlfriend with anyone."
He said it as if only a loser would do something like that.
Yet sharing a wife didn't seem to bother him.
"I always had a separate girlfriend," he added with a smirk.
At that moment, I understood my place in this house.
"But you know what," he continued, "there was a girl Varun and Arun loved a lot. They wanted to marry her."
Both brothers loved the same girl? I thought.
Then the irony hit me.
They had married the same woman anyway.
And that woman was me.
"What cake do you like?" he suddenly asked.
"Huh?"
"Hurry up. I have to order it. It's already late."
"Uh… okay."
He looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer.
But my mind refused to move as quickly as he wanted.
"Butterscotch," I said.
"Alright. I'll order it."
Oh God.
I don't even like butterscotch.
Under the pressure of answering quickly, I had chosen the one flavor I disliked.
"So what were we talking about?" he asked.
"About your brothers having the same girlfriend."
"Oh yes."
He leaned back slightly.
"I didn't like her. She talked too much. Gave me a headache."
"At that time, I had a girlfriend too," he continued. "She wanted to marry me. But I didn't want to share her."
Listening to him was giving me a headache too.
God, I feel so stuck.
"So you broke up with her?" I asked.
"Yes."
"So you broke up with her because you loved her too much and didn't want to share her."
"Yes," he said. "You understood it well."
"Then shouldn't you have married her?"
"Generally, yes," he replied. "But we are from the Khano tribe. We marry one woman together. Otherwise the property gets divided."
He was starting to get on my nerves now.
"If you loved someone that much," I said, "you shouldn't think about property division. You should think about building a life with her."
"Ha ha ha!"
He burst into loud laughter, as if I had just told a joke.
I smiled politely.
In reality, I was terrified.
"I should have," he said after a moment. "But do you know how many enemies I have outside this house?"
He looked away toward the darkness beyond the balcony.
"With only one-third of the property, I would probably end up getting killed on the third day… along with the love of my life."
His eyes filled with tears.
I knew those tears weren't from laughter.
They came from something much deeper.
"Where is she now?" I asked quietly.
"She's somewhere," he said.
"Hating me."
A man brought the cake.
He placed it on the table, stepped back quietly, and left the room.
Karan picked up the knife.
"I'll do it for you," he said with a faint smile. "The responsibility of keeping the family together—of keeping three men happy—lies with you now. The least I can do is cut the cake. Right?"
That, I assumed, was his way of flirting.
"Tomorrow there will be a honeymoon ceremony," he continued. "You should get ready. Wear something beautiful."
"Honeymoon ceremony?" I repeated.
"You don't know about that?"
I shook my head.
"It's the ceremony that decides who gets the right to sleep with you first."
"The right to sleep with me?"
I was stunned by how casually he said it.
"You don't have to do anything," he added calmly. "You just have to sit there."