16

14. Claiming you

Hey sunshine readers .

Here another chapter, another heartbeat stolen… are you ready to fall a little deeper?”

Ready to blush? Because this chapter is going to play with your heart.

“How did the last chapter make you feel? I hope it touched your heart in the sweetest way.”

Enjoy your reading 📚 😊

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Author Por

Morning light spilled gently across Siya’s face, the sun’s rays warming her closed eyes. She was still lying on the ground in the garden, where sleep had claimed her the last night.

Slowly, her lashes fluttered open, and with a dazed expression, she looked around in surprise. Memories of last night returned, and she sat up abruptly.

Her gaze fell upon the blanket draped over her and the pillow beneath her head. In a husky, sleepy whisper she murmured, “Where did this blanket and pillow come from? They weren’t here last night… Was it him? That heartless man? But why, when he hate me and want to hut me?”

Clutching the blanket and pillow in her hands, she rose to her feet and muttered stubbornly, “Whatever he does, I don’t care.”

Back in her chamber, her eyes scanned every corner, searching for him — but Ekansh was nowhere to be seen. Then her gaze fell on the broken bed.

“That bull brocken the bed, but I’m the one left disgraced. Good that he isn’t here right now, or I would have smashed his head,” she muttered angrily.

“But I need to get ready before everyone arrives,” she added hastily, before slipping into the bathing chamber.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze in shock. Everything had been carefully arranged for her—the bathing paste, fresh clothes, and even the pool, adorned with scattered rose petals.

“Who did all this? Someone must have come in here… That means now everyone knows about the broken bed. How will I face them now? Rana sa, how could you do this to me? Do you want the whole world to know?” she whispered, her voice breaking with pain, as if her heart had been shattered once again.

Then she went to take bath, After her bath, she changed into a simple lehenga and stepped back into the room. Her gaze roamed curiously, lingering on every corner she hadn’t noticed before.

Siya’s POV

Last night I had been too stressed and  lots of things happened. I didn’t even get the chance to truly look at this room.

The room is very big, grand, and neatly arranged. Everything looked perfect, as if it belonged exactly where it is. In the middle stood a large and beautiful bed, once proud, but now broken because of him. Just looking at it made my heart beat faster, as memories of last night returned.

Why does his closeness affect me so deeply? Why does it make me feel so different.

My mind warned me, "Siya, don’t think about him anymore, or you’ll go mad." Leave it.

Then my gaze drifted to the other side of the room—the place where I had spent the entire night. I didn’t even know when he had left, when he had covered me with that sheet and slipped a pillow beneath my head. I had been so exhausted, both physically and mentally, that I hadn’t realized anything in my sleep. That place is the garden which is attached to this room.

That garden is too big, and the most beautiful I had ever seen. Flowers bloomed in every color, and the fresh air from outside made the chamber feel alive.

There is also a large bathing room with its own pool, where the clear water shone softly in the light. Beside it is a wide changing room, almost as big as another chamber.

How could he do this? After seeing the state of this bed, still he let someone come in—it must have been obvious to everyone. He didn’t even once think about how I would feel. I didn’t need all the decorations in bathingroom, or any of the preparations; just keeping the matter  private for me would have been enough.

But he didn’t do that. And now, my hatred for him has only grown stronger. I will never forgive him for this.

My eyes landed on the table where the golden attire and jewelry gleamed under the soft morning light. A sudden jolt of memory hit me—yesterday, Maa-sa had reminded me that today is my muhdikhai ritual in the morning time. Now i have to get ready quickly.

Grabbing the outfit, I hurried toward the changing room, planning to wear the jewelry after I dressed.

In the changing room, I placed the attire on the table in front of the mirror and picked up the lehenga first. As I held it in my hands, it unfurled completely. The golden lehenga was stunning—heavily embellished with diamonds and pearls, every inch of it sparkling.

I stepped out of my old lehenga and slipped into the new lehenga. Next, I reached for the blouse. It was equally beautiful, with five delicate strings at the back and a slightly deep neckline at the front. I liked it—Maa-sa’s choice is perfect.

I changed into the blouse as well, but soon a problem arose.

I had worn this stringed blouse several times before, but each time Devika had helped me tie the strings. This was my first attempt alone, and though I had tried carefully, the string got tangled—and now it wouldn’t loosen. I have no idea what to do. How could I call Devika? Where would she be?

“Siya, calm down. It’s just one knot. You can untie it,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath. I began to loosen the string, but instead of loosing, it only tightened further.

“What the hell… now what will I do?” I whispered, panic rising in my chest.

I tugged at the stubborn string again, my fingers fumbling. Each pull seemed to tighten the knot even more, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple. The mirror reflected my anxious expression, and I bit my lip, panic rising.

“Think, Siya… think,” I muttered to myself, taking another deep breath. I tried to remember how Devika had done it—small, careful loops, gentle pulling. Slowly, I adjusted my grip, holding the knot between my fingers. Minutes felt like hours.

I tried very hard, but instead of loosening, it got even tighter.

I tucked one corner of the dupatta into the waistband of my lehenga and draped it loosely around myself before stepping out of the changing room.

The moment I entered the bedroom, I froze in place. He was there—dressed in a perfectly fitted white kurta, his hair damp as he rubbed it dry with a cloth. Droplets of water trailed lazily down his neck, sliding lower, disappearing into the folds of his attire. His eyes were closed, head tilted slightly upward, too absorbed in drying his hair to notice me.

He looks way too hot like this, I caught myself thinking.

"Siya, are you actually flirting?" my subconscious taunted.

Before I could gather my thoughts, his voice cut through the silence.

"Rani sa, apne hi pati ko kitna tarengi"

(“Rani-sa, how long will you keep staring at your own husband?”)

My eyes widened. He hadn’t even opened his eyes—yet he knew I had been staring.

Wait… what? Does that mean he realized I was watching him the entire time?

“W-why… why would I be staring at you?” I stammered, fumbling with my words.

That was when he opened his eyes and turned to face me. His gaze locked onto mine with unsettling intensity as he said firmly, “Whether my eyes are open or shut, I can sense everything happening around me—who enters, who leaves. I am the King of Pratapgad. Staying alert is my duty.”

I just stood there in front of him, gaping like a fool with my mouth half-open.

Then, in a husky tone edged with a teasing smirk, he added, “I am your husband. You don’t need to sneak glances at me—you can look at me openly, as much as you wish.”

Heat rose in my chest, but not from shyness. His words dragged me straight back to the memory which he did, fueling my anger. My eyes blazed as I shot him a fiery glare.

“I was not staring at you,” I snapped. “And for the record, you are not my husband—so stop calling yourself that.”

In anger, I stepped toward the door, but his strong grip halted me. With a sudden jerk, he pulled me back against him, and I slammed straight into his chest. My breath grew uneven as our bodies pressed together—his unyielding hand gripped my waist, while the other held my wrist captive.

I slowly raised my eyes to his face. His jaw was set hard in anger, his gaze fierce and unrelenting as it bore into me. But why?

“What the hell! Let me go! How dare you touch me?” I spat at him, fury sparking in my voice.

“What are you doing? Have you seen your condition? When you were about to step out in this state, you had no problem. But now, suddenly, my touch offends you?” he threw back at me in a scathing, angry tone.

“Since when do you care so much about me?” I snapped, my laugh laced with mockery.

“Who told you I care?” he shot back in a low, firm tone, his burning gaze piercing straight into me.

“Good. And you shouldn’t,” I retorted, my voice as sharp as his.

“Leave me,” I demanded, struggling against the iron hold of his arms, but his grip didn’t falter—it was unbreakable, as though he owned me.

“Where were you going like this?” His voice thundered, jaw tight with anger.

“I was going out of this room,” I snapped back with equal fire.

He finally released my waist, only to seize my wrist, dragging me toward dressing table of this rooom. My breath hitched as he pulled me to the dressing table beside the bed, forcing me to stand before the mirror. His grip on my wrist remained, strong and merciless.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered, his tone dark, commanding.

I lifted my chin, refusing to obey, my defiance burning through my eyes. His gaze never shifted—it pinned me in place, heavy, unyielding, as if daring me to resist him.

“I will not,” I whispered, staring straight into him, my voice trembling with both anger and stubbornness.

“I said look at yourself. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he roared, the dangerous edge in his voice sending a shiver through me.

Slowly, unwillingly, I turned toward the mirror—only to freeze. My breath caught in my throat, horror crashing over me.

The strings of my blouse had tangled, tied wrongly, leaving a revealing glimpse of my cleavage.  The dupatta I had carelessly draped hung loosely, revealing the curve of my waist, But the whole time, his eyes were fixed only on my face.

A horrified, shocked expression spread across my face as I stared at my reflection in disbelief

And yet… I could feel his eyes on me still, burning in anger, claiming, as though I belonged to him entirely.

I turned to him, not caring about my dress—or perhaps, I wasn’t feeling uncomfortable at all, because his eyes were fixed only on my face. And in those eyes, I could clearly see not just anger, but respect as well.

"Hamari marji hum kaise bhi aur es prakar kahi bhi jaye aap hote kon hai hame rokne wale," I shouted, struggling to free my wrist from his grip.

(“It’s my choice where I go and how I go! Who are you to stop me?” I shouted, struggling to free my wrist from his grip.)

The moment I saw the fire burning in his eyes, I realized I had made a mistake by saying those words—but my anger refused to let me admit it.

And then, I made another mistake. “This is my body. Whether I cover it or leave it bare, it’s my choice!” I snapped recklessly.

In the very next second, he yanked me toward him possessively. I crashed into his chest, my breath growing heavy from his sudden action.

"Aap ka sarir hai", he growled through clenched teeth, his jaw tightening with anger, "aur aap jaise chahe ose rah sakti hai, prantu yaha es kaksh me, aur aapko es prakar dekhne ka adhikar kisi ko nahi hai, samjhi aap,"

(“It is your body,” he growled through clenched teeth, his jaw tightening with anger, “and you may live with it however you wish—but here, in our room, nobody have right to see you like this. Do you understand?”)

“what if I appear like this before someone else?” I shot back, glaring at him, the words spilling out in blind rage before I could stop them.

His eyes darkened to a deadly glare as he leaned closer. “Then I will give that man a death so unimaginable that no one has ever even dreamt of it. And you… I will give you a punishment so memorable that you will never dare to let such a thought cross your mind again.”.

"I know something has happened—that’s why you’re behaving like this. But in anger, you don’t even realize what you’re saying and in what state you are," he said calmly.

I pushed him away with all my strength and finally freed myself from his grip. Now, just two steps apart, we stood glaring at each other, our eyes locked, burning with anger.

My chest rose and fell heavily as I shouted, "Stop pretending you care about my honor! If you truly did, you wouldn’t have allowed anyone into this chamber. No one would have found out about this broken bed!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing. "Are you saying someone entered this room and discovered the bed?"

My rage flared higher. "Don’t pretend to be innocent!" I snapped.

"Tell me who dared to step into our chamber without our permission," he demanded, his voice laced with authority.

"Really? You don’t know who entered this room? Who prepared the bathing arrangements in the bathingroom?" I shot back bitterly.

He looked almost casual as he replied, "So that’s what you’re talking about—the bathing preparations."

"Yes!" I shouted.

"I was the one who did all of it. No one else entered our chamber," he said firmly, his face unreadable.

I blinked in disbelief. "What do you mean you did all that? Why would you, when you hate me and want revenge for me not refusing this marriage?" My voice trembled with confusion.

His answer was cold, his expression unyielding. "ha hame aap se beintehaa nafrat hai aur hamesa rhega." Then, with a smirk, he added, "prantu kiya hai na rani sa ki hum aur hamara nafrat karne ka tarika es duniya se puri tarah alag hai."

(His answer was cold, his expression unyielding. "Yes, I hate you—endlessly, and I always will." Then, with a smirk, he added, "But you see, Rani-sa, me and my way to hate is unlike anyone else in this world.")

I stared at him, speechless, confusion clouding my mind.

He took a step closer. Now, only a breath of distance separated us.

In a husky whisper, he said, "logo ki tarah Hum nafrat me aap ko kabhi taklif nahi denge aur nahi kabhi rulayenge, prantu phir bhi apke man me hamare prati nafrat badhti rhegi."

(In a husky whisper, he said, "Unlike others, I will never hurt you in my hatred, nor will I make you cry. And yet… hatred for me will keep growing in your heart.")

"Then why did you make those preparations?" I asked quietly, my voice uncertain.

To welcome you at your first morning in your hell, Rani-sa," he said mockingly.

"Stop playing these mind games with me, understood?!" I shouted, pushing his chest with both hands, fury giving me strength.

The sudden force made him step back two paces. In the push, my dupatta slipped to the ground. His eyes instantly dropped—not on me, but on the fabric lying at our feet.

I stood before him in only my lehenga and blouse, which weren’t even properly tied, yet his gaze never once lifted from the floor.

Then, he stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the fallen dupatta. His face was unreadable, his eyes still fixed downward. Silently, he draped that dupatta around me.

Only then did he raise his gaze. His eyes pierced straight into mine as he whispered in a chilling tone, "Hum aapke sath srafat se pess aa rhe hai to hamari srafat ka faida uthane ki kosis bhi mat kijiye, nahi to bahut bure aadmi hai hum."

(Only then did he raise his gaze. His eyes pierced straight into mine as he whispered in a chilling tone, "I am dealing with you with civility. Don’t dare mistake it for weakness, or try to take advantage of it. Otherwise… you’ll see how ruthless I can be.")

He tapped my cheek twice with his fingers, his touch both dismissive and commanding. "I hope you understood everything. Now, go and fix your clothes."

With that, he walked over to the chair, sat down leisurely with one leg crossed over the other, picked up some papers from the table, and began reading—calmly, as though nothing had happened.

Now regret weighed heavily on me. Which I did… without even knowing the truth, I behaved that way In anger, I spoke words I never should have.

His firm voice broke through my thoughts.“What happened? Why are you still standing there?”

He was still seated, his eyes fixed on the paper in his hands. Perhaps he had already noticed that I hadn’t moved from my place.

I didn’t reply. At my silence, he slowly lifted his gaze from the paper, his expression unreadable.

“I asked you something,” he said, his voice steady, almost cutting.

“N… nothing. Actually, I just need someone’s help… to untie the strings of this blouse,” I whispered slowly.

His eyes darkened with anger again. He rose from the chair, each movement controlled, and stopped just a little distance away from me.

“Are you serious?” His voice sharpened. “Now you know very well no one entered this room, yet you’re still saying such nonsense. Fine, I understand you had a misunderstanding—but that doesn’t mean you can say and do whatever you want. First you insisted on going out like this, then you spoke of going before someone else like this, and now you say you need someone’s help? Do you even realize the kind of nonsense you’re speaking?” His irritation was clear, each word clipped.

“No, no… you’re getting me wrong. I didn’t mean it like that,” I tried to explain, stumbling over my words, searching desperately for the right ones.

I didn’t know what he must be thinking about my character. I had no choice… I would have to tell him the truth.

Then I said seriously, “See, you are getting me wrong. For me, my character and my respect are more important than my life. I admit, yes, I was going out like this only to make you realize that you disrespected me by letting someone else enter this room. I don’t want anybody to know about this bed—it matters to me. At that time, I didn’t know that no one else had come into this room and that all those preparations were done by you."

I added further, “Yes, I said what if I go like this in front of someone else, but I said it only in anger—it didn’t mean anything. And now what I just said—that I needed someone’s help to untie my blouse string—it was because I couldn’t see behind me, and my hand couldn’t reach. The knot got tied in the wrong way and I can’t open it myself.”

“I’m explaining all this not because I consider you important in my life,” I continued firmly, “but because I love my dignity and self-respect more than anything. I cannot bear anyone questioning my character.”

He listened silently, his gaze fixed on me, his face unreadable.

“yes, I hate you, but that doesn’t mean I will ever disrespect you. Never even think like that,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice.

“Fine, then let me help you,” he said seriously.

“What? How can you help me?” I almost shouted in shock.

“So, do you want someone else to come in here and find out that last night we broke the bed?” he raised his eyebrows at me.

“No, no—I don’t want that to happen!” I replied quickly.

“Then you don’t have any option,” he said casually.

“Besides,” he added with a teasing glint in his eyes, “befor sometime, you were ready to go out like this in front of anyone else. So after all, I’m your husband, then why are you being so hesitant to ask for help?"

“Don’t you dare call yourself my husband! You are nothing to me,” I said irritably.

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“You—!” I shouted in anger.

“Maa-sa will be here any moment. Get ready before that, otherwise she’ll see for herself that her daughter-in-law managed to break the bed in just one night,” he teased with a playful smile.

Hearing that, my anger flared even more. “What did you just say? I broke this bed?” I asked furiously.

“Yes, of course. Who else?” he replied with a mischievous grin.

Then, without caring for my glare, he walked over to the chair, sat down comfortably, picked up some grapes from the plate on the table, and began eating them as if they were the most delicious delicacy in the world.

“What… what are you doing?” I asked irritably.

“Eating grapes,” he said, slowly munching, holding one grape delicately between his fingers to show me.

“I know you’re eating grapes!” I almost ordered. “What I meant is why are you eating instead of helping me?”

He raised his brows, chewed another grape leisurely, then said with a teasing pause, "Agar aap chahti hain ki hum aapki madat kare to pyar se boliye, phir hum sochenge."

He raised his brows, chewed another grape leisurely, then said with a teasing pause, “If you want my help, ask me sweetly. Then maybe I’ll think about help.”

“Never,” I snapped.

“Fine then, help yourself,” he replied coolly.

“What! Are you blackmailing me?” I shouted.

“No. I had already offered to help, but you refused,” he said proudly.

I had no choice left except to ask for his help. Taking a deep breath, I said calmly, with a smile, “Saand-ji, kripya karke hamari madat kar dijiye."

("Saand ji, please help me.”)

He stared at me in shock, but I was enjoying his reaction. I can also tease him.

“Now your Saand-ji is going to untie the string, so it won’t just open—it will tear,” he said in a challenging tone.

“No, no, listen! I was just joking,” I quickly said.

“But I’m serious,” he replied, rising from his chair.

“O… I mean, Rana-sa, please help me,” I corrected myself quickly with a pleading smile.

"Ohh to aap ye keh rhi thi, prantu hum chahte hai ki aap kuchh aur kahe," he said with smirk.

(“Ohh, so that’s what you meant. But I want you to say something else,” he said with a smirk.)

“What you want?” I asked, confused.

"Aap kahiye ki pati dev kripya kar ke hamari madat kar dijiye," he said with a mischievous smile.

(“Say: Pati-dev, please help me,” he said with a mischievous smile.)

“What? Never!” I refused instantly.

“Fine. Then I’m going. I have lots of work to do,” he said, taking a step toward the door.

"Rukiye, agar aapne hamari madat nahi ki na to hum maa sa se aapki sikayat kar denge," I threatened.

(“Wait! If you don’t help me, then I’ll complain to Maa-sa about you,” I threatened.)

His smile widened mischievously. "toh aap maa sa se kahengi ki hum aapke blouse ki dori nahi kholte hai."

(His smile widened mischievously. “Oh really? And what will you tell maa sa—that I refused to untie your blouse string?”)

At that, my entire body went stiff. My face burned as flashes of all the scenes I had read in books rushed into my mind.

“Rani-sa, why are you blushing so much? I haven’t even done anything yet, just spoken a few words,” he teased, watching me intently.

“Ohh, Rani-sa, I must salute your imagination power. It’s so strong that you’ve turned completely red. Even the color red itself would shy away after seeing your face right now,” he added mockingly.

“I am not blushing! And I am not imagining anything. I am just… red with anger,” I stammered nervously.

“Of course… I can see that” he said with a knowing grin.

“Fine then, shall I untie your blouse now?” he asked as he stepped closer.

“What?” I gasped in horror, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’m talking about the dori—the string. Or… do you want me to do something else?” he asked, his voice full of mischief.

I quickly shook my head in denial.

“Good girl,” he said softly, coming to stand just a step away from me.

I felt a strange nervousness take over me because of both the conversation and the situation. Without realizing, I stepped quickly toward the dressing table.

He followed calmly and said in an assuring tone, “Relax. I’ll untie the strings without touching you and without even looking.”

Something shifted inside me at his words. I didn’t know why, but suddenly, my eyes searched for comfort in his gaze—something unexplainable, something beyond words.

And just like that, the nervousness began to melt away. His mere words really hold this much power?

“May I?” he asked softly. His calm voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Hmmm,” I hummed in reply.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

I turned, now facing the mirror. Our eyes met in the reflection.

“Move your hair and dupatta aside,” he said gently. My heart began to pound wildly.

Then I gathered my hair to the front, and hesitantly held my dupatta. When I lifted my eyes to the mirror, I saw that his eyes were already closed.

Then, slowly, I removed the dupatta that had been wrapped around my body and draped it across the front, placing it over one shoulder so that everything in front remained covered.

“Done,” I whispered faintly.

“Place my hand on the string,” he instructed softly while lifting his hand toward me.

When I took his hand into mine, my heart began to race even more wildly; I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine. With one hand, I held his, and with the other, I placed the string of my blouse into his palm.

Then he lifted his other hand and began to untie the knots, carefully holding the string between his thumb and forefinger, making sure not to touch me. His eyes remained closed, while I stood frozen, watching him through the mirror.

In no time, he had loosened almost all the knots—only the last one remained. Suddenly, he paused. I was stunned. How did he manage to untie such tight knots so quickly?

“Only the last knot is left,” he said quietly. “Hold your blouse properly so it doesn’t slip when I untie it.”

“Yes,” I whispered almost soundlessly, clutching the blouse tightly with both hands.

Within seconds, he undid the final string.

He took both strings in his fists from the top and began tying them. When he pulled the thread to make a knot, the sudden force made me lose my balance a little, and my back collided against his chest. I gasped sharply at the unexpected contact.

Quickly, I stepped away and returned to my previous place.

“Sorry… I lost my balance because of the sudden pull,” I said nervously.

“It’s alright. Just guide me—how tight do you want it?” he said firmly.

“Then he tightened it gently, just enough to keep me from wobbling again, and asked, ‘Is this fine, or should I make it tighter?’”

“A little tighter,” I murmured.

He adjusted and tied it again. One by one, he secured four strings, only the last one was remaining.

“Is it okay now?” he asked.

A mischievous thought flashed in my mind to tease him. “No, a little tighter,” I said when he was tieing last one.

Then, with a grin, I added, “Now loosen it a bit.”

He sighed but obeyed. “Now?”

“No… a little tighter again,” I teased.

I repeated this five or six times until he finally got irritated.

“Are you playing with me?” he asked, his tone edged with impatience.

Then, instead of adjusting it gently, he tied that string tighter than the others. Not painfully tight, but firm enough that I could clearly feel the difference.

“This one is more tight than the rest. Loosen it a little,” I demanded.

He opened his eyes this time, looked straight into mine through the mirror, and replied in a dominating tone, “You like playing with me, don’t you? Then here’s your punishment. This string will stay exactly this tight. Don’t worry—it won’t hurt you. But all day long, this tightness will remind you of me.”

“And what do you think? That I’ll just leave it like this? I’ll untie it right now and fix it,” I said cheerfully, smiling as though I had won.

But he didn’t say a word. He simply walked over to the chair and sat down comfortably, that playful smile dancing on his lips the whole time. Why was he smiling like that?

Curious, I took the string between my fingers and pulled it, but it didn’t move. I tried again with more force—still nothing. Again and again, I pulled, but it didn’t even budge, let alone loosen.

When I turned, I found him watching me with a wide, mischievous smile.

“Why isn’t it opening? What have you done?” I asked, confused.

He didn’t answer. My patience snapped, and I said angrily, “Fine! I’ll ask Devika to open it and tie it properly.”

“No one will be able to open it,” he replied with confidence. “If you want it undone, you’ll have to come to me.”

Maybe he is right. It wasn’t moving at all—how could anyone else loosen it?

“Then open it,” I demanded.

“It seems you didn’t hear me properly,” he said in that same dominating tone. “This is your punishment, and you will carry it the entire day.”

I clenched my teeth in frustration, turned away, and stormed into the dressing room to fix my dupatta.

This man is impossible. He keeps driving me crazy!

But then my own mind mocked me—“But Siya, you’re the one who starts it every time.”

Ekansh's pov

She is always in the mood to argue with me. How could I possibly let her go so easily?

The more calmly I try to deal with her, the more she seems to take advantage of it. I am trying to understand her situation, but what I truly don’t want is for her to ever come across the side of me that the world knows… the side everyone fears.

She and her brother are truly impossible—never willing to listen, always ready to lose their temper.

My eyes lifted toward the door of the changing room when I heard the faint sound of her anklets, a sound capable of bringing peace.

She walked toward the dressing table, her dress now neatly fixed in place. Without sparing me a glance, she went straight to the mirror and began putting on her jewellery.

“Why are you staring at me without even blinking?” she snapped, her voice sharp with anger.

“Looking at my wife—is that a problem for you?” I teased, enjoying the spark in her eyes.

I love irritating her. I love provoking her anger. Troubling her with my little gestures feels sweeter than anything else.

“I’ve told you so many times—you are nothing to me,” she retorted coldly.

“But you are mine, aren’t you?” I countered, only to make her angrier.

“No,” she replied firmly, her eyes hard as stone.

“Then focus on wearing your jewellery instead of keeping such a strict watch on me. I already know I’m irresistibly handsome,” I said playfully.

She ignored me, and began to wear her earrings with quick, angry movements. A matching necklace already graced her neck, bangles clinked on her wrists, and rings sparkled on her fingers.

When she picked up a comb to untangle her hair, I noticed her struggle. Her thick, black hair fell below her waist, making it difficult for her to manage on her own.

I rose from the chair and walked toward her. Extending my hand, I said calmly, “Give me the comb. I’ll help you with your hair.”

She froze, staring at me in shock.

“There’s no need to overthink,” I continued, my voice softer than before. “I’m just helping you out of basic humanity. To trouble you, I am more than enough—you don’t need anything else for that. And besides, I don’t want anyone or anything to trouble you… except me.”.

But she didn’t hand me the comb. Instead, with visible anger, she began to brush her own hair, so forcefully that it seemed she might hurt herself in the process.

Without a word, I snatched the comb from her hand. She glared at me furiously, her eyes burning into mine.

Ignoring her anger, I carefully began combing her hair—slowly, gently, making sure not to pull too hard, making sure she wouldn’t feel any pain.

She sat there silently, her lips pressed tight, her body stiff with suppressed rage.

Once I finished untangling her hair, I spoke softly, “I don’t know how to make a hairstyle… so guide me how to do that.”

“The rest I will do myself,” she muttered coldly. Taking a small portion of her hair, she began to braid it into a design. I watched closely, then picked up another small section and started following her movements. She said nothing to me, but her anger was written all over her face.

After some time, we both finished. She had made a beautiful style—half the front portion twisted into a delicate pattern, and the rest tied into a neat bun. I had helped her as much as I could.

Then she picked up a small box from the table. Her fingers clenched tightly around it in anger. It was a box of vermilion. She opened it, her eyes staring blankly at the red powder inside.

Lifting her trembling hand, she reached out to take a pinch of sindoor. But before she could, I took the box from her. She turned to me, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Without saying a word, I took a pinch of vermilion and filled the parting of her hairline. Her gaze met mine—empty, unreadable.

“People look beautiful when they are adorned with love and blessings,” I said with a bitter laugh, my voice hollow. “But you… you wear sindoor like a curse, and yet you still look unbearably beautiful.”

I paused, the pain rising in my throat. “This sindoor is not just a curse for you—it is a curse for me as well.”

Without saying anything further, I picked up my clothes for the day and walked silently into the changing room.

After some time, I entered the room, dressed in a golden kurta. Maa Sa had chosen golden outfits for both of us.

I saw her—and she, sensing my presence, turned to look at me. She stood there completely ready, adorned in a golden lehenga with matchingjewellery. Her kohl-lined eyes fixed on me with an unreadable expression, while the tiny red bindi on her forehead only heightened her beauty.

She is looking too beautiful, as always.

I stepped closer. She was standing beside the dressing table, staring at me with confusion. I stopped right in front of her, picked up the kohl box from the table, dipped my finger into it, and gently applied it behind her ear.

In a serious, firm tone, I said, "Ye duniya ki nazro se bachane ke liye nahi hai… hamare hote huye koi aur aapko nazar laga bhi nahi sakta. Ye aapko hamari nazro se bachane ke liye hai, jo pehle hi lag chuki hai.

(In a serious, firm tone, I said, “This isn’t to protect you from the world’s evil eyes. As long as I am here, no one dares cast a shadow on you. This… is to protect you from my own gaze, which has already fallen upon you.”)

Her eyes darkened as she retorted in a challenging voice, "Aap me itni himmat nahi ki hume nazar laga sake. Abhi tak aap hume jaante nahi hain.

(Her eyes darkened as she retorted in a challenging voice, “You don’t have the courage to cast your gaze upon me. You don’t even know me yet.”)

I leaned in slightly, warning her, “You say that only because you haven’t truly faced me yet.”

She lifted her chin proudly and said.“You hate me, don’t you? Then I give you full freedom to show your hatred.”

I smiled coldly, “I don’t know about hatred. But I do know this—I want to turn every single moment of your life into a punishment for you.”

“Do whatever you want,” she challenged.

With a dangerous smile, I said, “I have a special gift for you rani sa… a muh-dikhai gift.”

“I don’t want anything,” she snapped angrily, trying to walk past me. But I caught her hand and pulled her back toward me.

Reaching into my kurta pocket, I took out a pearl-studded kamarbandh. She stared at it, startled.

I took a step closer, slid one end of the kamarbandh behind her waist, drew it forward, and locked it in place. She glared at me in fury, but it all happened so quickly that she had no chance to resist.

“It’s your gift, from me,” I said with a smile.

She glared at me with a dead, burning stare—but before I could react, she tugged at the waistband with a sharp force. The kamarbandh broke, and pearls scattered across the floor, filling the room with the soft sound of jhan-jhan.

Watching them fall, she said with fiery eyes, “I told you—I don’t want anything from you. You are nothing to me, so stop claiming rights over me again and again.”

I smirked proudly.“That’s my woman. This is exactly what I expected from you. If you hadn’t broken it, if you hadn’t gotten angry, then I would have been disappointed.”

“Are you mad? What the hell are you saying? I broke your special gift and you’re smiling?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” I said calmly. “Because you did exactly what I wanted. And besides, this wasn’t your gift—it was just an excuse. Until the wedding mandap, you lived by your own will. But now… everything will be according to my will.”

Her shocked face gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

Just then, a knock came at the door. I went to check. A dasi (maid) stood there. Seeing me, she bowed her head and said, “Rana Sa, Maharani Sa has asked you to come to the temple with Rani Sa.”

“Fine. You may go, we’re coming,” I ordered.

When I stepped back inside, she was adjusting her bridal veil.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered in a serious tone.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

We both walked out together. As soon as we stepped outside, she was looking at me like a lost puppy. hesitant, she said softly, “I don’t know the way… you go ahead, I’ll follow.”

I stopped and turned to her. “You will not walk behind me. You will walk beside me—my equal.”

She stared at me, as if searching for something in my eyes.

Yes… in every place, she will stand by my side. Only in my heart… there is no place for her.

Gently, I took her hand and together we walked toward the home temple.

When we reached the temple, every gaze turned toward us. Only our family members were present. One by one, we bent down and touched the elders’ feet to seek their blessings.

They all blessed us to stay together forever, and everyone showered compliments on Siya. She responded with a soft smile and a polite “thank you,” while I stood quietly. Overwhelmed with excitement, Prisha suddenly hugged Siya.

“Come, let’s first finish the pooja. After that, you both can spend plenty of time with Siya,” Maa Sa said to Prisha and Prem.

“Yes, Maa Sa,” they replied together.

“Siya, Ekansh, come here and perform the Aarti,” Maa Sa called, looking at us.

Hesitantly, Siya stepped forward, and I followed. Maa Sa handed us the aarti thal. We performed the ritual unwillingly, for in truth, neither of us truly accepted this relationship from our hearts, and so worshipping together felt meaningless.

“Everyone, come quickly and eat breakfast. Otherwise, once the muh-dikhai ceremony begins, there won’t be time for food,” Maa Sa instructed. She and Chachi Maa gently took Siya by the hands and led her to the dining room. The rest of us followed.

Inside, they seated her beside me. She lifted her gaze toward me for a brief moment before turning her eyes away to look at everyone else. As the maids began to serve, her curious eyes scanned the entire room with quiet attentiveness.

Suddenly, in a very soft and sweet tone, she asked, “Maa Sa, where is Devika?”

Before anyone else could reply, Prisha quickly answered with a wide smile. “Bhabhi Sa, Devika is coming. Actually, she’s a little busy with some important work.”

“What important work?” I asked sharply, sensing from Prisha’s excitement that she was up to something playful.

“No… nothing, Bhai Sa. She’s just getting ready,” Prisha fumbled, trying to cover up.

“But Devika never spends much time getting ready. She doesn’t like all that,” Siya questioned with a confused look.

“Bhabhi Sa, look—Devika has arrived!” Prisha exclaimed with a mischievous smile and rushed toward Devika. She whispered something to her so softly that no one else could hear.

“Devika, come—Bhabhi Sa was just looking for you,” Prisha said, tugging her by the hand and urging her to sit beside her.

But Devika refused gently. “I can’t sit and eat with everyone. I’ll have my meal later,” she said in a low, nervous tone. Her eyes seemed to meet only Siya’s, otherwise her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Why are you forcing her when she doesn’t want to eat?” Prem said impatiently to Prisha.

“Prem,” pita ji said firmly, each word weighted with meaning. Then, softening his voice, he added with a smile, “Beta, sit down and eat with all of us. From today onwards, you will always share meals with the family. At the time of Siya’s vidai, I told my friend that I am taking two daughters into my home.”

Prisha caught Devika’s hand and firmly pulled her down to sit beside her. Even then, Devika’s anxious eyes remained fixed on Siya, filled with worry, as though she was desperate to speak to her.

It was clear she cared deeply for Siya. Siya, in return, reassured her with a subtle glance that everything was fine. Everyone else turned their attention back to breakfast, but my focus remained only on Siya.

There she sat, so calm beside me—yet in private, she was nothing but stubborn and fiery, always arguing with me. Perhaps I should start calling her angry bird.

“Ekansh, would you like some more?” Chachi Maa’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“No, this is enough,” I replied quietly.

We continued our meal, while Prisha and Prem’s chatter filled the room, carrying us smoothly through breakfast.

Author Por

In the grand hall, Siya and Ekansh sat side by side at the center. Siya’s face was hidden beneath her veil. Around them, the queens and princesses of other royal families sat gracefully on their seats, While the women from the family were in the hall, none of the male members were present.

Unintentionally, Ekansh’s arm brushed against Siya’s. Startled, she shifted slightly to the other side. Ekansh noticed — and this time, he deliberately let his hand graze hers again. Siya immediately moved away once more, then Ekansh also sifted toward her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered softly from beneath her veil.

“Just enjoying our muhdikhai ceremony,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet quiet enough that only she could hear.

“Do whatever you want, but stay away from me,” she hissed under her breath.

He chuckled faintly. “Then where’s the fun in that? I only enjoy the things you dislike.” His expression remained calm and composed so that no one around would notice their secret exchange. The others were busy chatting amongst themselves.

“If you touch me again, I’ll break your hand,” she warned, her voice firm.

"Aap soyem ki raksha hum se kar lijiye, utna hi kafi hai," he whispered back playfully.

(“Then you better protect yourself from me, that should be enough,” he whispered back playfully.)

Before she could respond, Ekansh’s mother announced cheerfully, “Let’s begin the muhdikhai ceremony!”

“Yes, Bhabhi-sa, you should start first,” said his aunt with a smile.

Ekansh’s mother walked gracefully toward Siya and stopped in front of her. Bending slightly, she held the edge of Siya’s chunari with both hands and gently lifted the veil from her face, then placed the fabric lightly over her head.

As soon as the veil was removed, every gaze in the hall turned to Siya. Her eyes were lowered, her lashes trembling with nervousness.

“There’s no one in this world more beautiful than my daughter-in-law,” Ekansh’s mother said proudly, her face glowing with affection. She then applied a tiny mark of kohl behind Siya’s and Ekansh’s ear, a gesture to ward off the evil eye.

"Aap dono ki jodi hamesa bana rhe," his mother blessed,  putting her hand on their heads.

(May your bond always remain strong," his mother blessed, placing her hand on their heads.)

Soon, his aunt joined her and stood beside Ekansh’s mother. At her silent signal, one of the maids stepped forward, followed by others carrying silver trays covered with red cloths. The ritual was about to begin.

Ekansh’s mother gently lifted the red cloth from a small silver plate. Beneath it lay a pair of exquisitely crafted gold bangles. She picked one up and lovingly slipped it onto Siya’s wrist. The second bangle Ekansh’s aunt took and placed it gently on Siya’s other hand.

“These bangles,” his mother said with a tender smile, “were made years ago — back when Ekansh was only a child. I always knew I’d gift them to the woman who’d hold his hand for life.”

Siya looked up, her heart fluttering at the gentle affection in her voice. She smiled faintly in return, while Ekansh sat beside her — quiet, composed.

One by one, Ekansh’s mother and aunt uncovered the remaining plates. There were ten in total—each filled with breathtaking ornaments of gold, silver, diamonds, and pearls. In one of the plates lay a pair of beautiful anklets that shimmered under the light.

“These were once gifted to us by our mother-in-law,” said Ekansh’s mother, pride softening her tone. “And now, they are yours. These jewels have traveled through generations — today, they find their new queen.”

“Maa sa, what will I do with so many jewels?” Siya asked in a soft, hesitant tone.

His aunt chuckled and said lovingly. “ Siya, You’ll wear them,  and make them shine brighter than ever before.”

Siya touched each plate respectfully, after which the maids carefully placed them on the table. Ekansh’s mother and aunt then sat down on the side chairs.

“Now,” said his mother, “everyone may begin the muh-dikhai ceremony.”

An elderly lady approached Siya and Ekansh with a wide smile.

“May your bond remain eternal,” she said warmly. “You both look so beautiful together.”

She handed Siya a stunning diamond set as a gift.

Siya and Ekansh touched her feet and took blessings.

One by one, the other queens and princesses stepped forward—blessing the newlyweds and offering precious gifts. Siya smiled graciously each time, bowing her head in gratitude. Ekansh, meanwhile, sat beside her — silent, observant. Every now and then, his gaze brushed hers; every time, she looked away.

Soon, the entire table and the space around them were filled with gifts.

Thus, the muh-dikhai ceremony came to an end. Ekansh’s mother led the guests to the dining hall for lunch, leaving behind Siya, Ekansh, and his aunt.

Just then, cheerful voices echoed from the doorway.

“Bhai sa! Bhabhi sa!” called Prisha excitedly.

She and Devika entered together, Devika smiling warmly.

In their hands were large objects wrapped carefully in cloth.

“Our gifts are still left!” Prisha announced gleefully, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“What’s this?” asked his aunt curiously.

“This,” Prisha said proudly, “is a gift from me and Devika!”

“Looks like something very special,” said Ekansh’s mother as she entered.

“But not more precious than my gifts,” came a teasing voice from behind.

Everyone turned. Prem joined them with a mischievous grin. They all stood before Siya and Ekansh, who also rose to their feet.

“Nothing can be more special than our gift,” Prisha declared proudly.

Then she and Prem began to argue playfully about whose gift was better.

“Stop it, both of you,” Ekansh said sharply.

Immediately, the two stood straight like obedient children—though Prisha still stuck her tongue out at Prem, making everyone chuckle. Seeing their adorable banter, a real smile touched Siya’s lips for the first time.

Seeing her genuinely happy, everyone around felt relieved and content. Since her arrival in Pratapgarh, she had seemed tense and distant—but now, that soft smile brought light back into her face.

Ekansh noticed too. It felt good to see her smile, though he didn’t show it—his expression remained straight and unreadable.

“Bhai sa, Bhabhi sa, please uncover this cloth,” said Prisha eagerly.

Siya and Ekansh removed the covering together—and the sight before them left them speechless.

“What is it, that’s making you both stare like that?” asked his aunt curiously.

Prisha turned the large frame toward everyone, revealing it. Everybody also got surprised.

Then, Prem removed the cloth from Devika’s gift, and everyone exclaimed together, “Wow… unbelievable!”

Siya and Ekansh were equally stunned.

The gift in Prisha’s hands was a large painting—a beautiful depiction of Siya and Ekansh taking their wedding pheras around the sacred fire, surrounded by divine light and flowers.

Devika’s gift was another painting—this one of the very muh-dikhai ceremony happening right now. In it, Siya and Ekansh sat beside each other; Siya was smiling tenderly, and Ekansh looked at her with gentle affection.

The painting captured a happiness that reality had yet to see.

“What do you think of our gifts?” Prisha asked excitedly.

If this marriage were truly a bond of love, Siya thought silently, nothing could be more precious than this.

“It’s too beautiful,” she said aloud, smiling warmly.

“Beautiful? I’d say there couldn’t be a better gift than this,” Ekansh added, glancing at Siya with a teasing tone.

His words made Siya look up at him in surprise, while the rest smiled, delighted to hear Ekansh finally appreciate something.

“These paintings are truly amazing—but when were they made, and by whom?” his mother asked curiously.

“We made them this morning!” Prisha said proudly. “That’s why Devika and I weren’t present during the ceremony.”

She added with a mischievous grin, “And guess who the artist is?”

“Who?” Prem asked, pretending to guess.

“None other than Devika herself!” Prisha announced proudly.

All eyes turned toward Devika, who grew nervous under their gaze.

“I… I only painted them because Princess Prisha asked me to,” Devika stammered shyly.

“Maa sa,” Siya spoke up with admiration, “Devika paints wonderfully. It’s as though Goddess Saraswati herself has blessed her hands. Her paintings don’t just show images—they express emotions.”

“You’re right,” said his mother, gazing fondly at the paintings. “The feelings are clearly visible in every brushstroke. Thank you, Devika through your art, we’ve seen our son and daughter-in-law’s pheras.”

Devika smiled bashfully.

“You paint too? That’s wonderful,” Prem added approvingly.

The paintings were carefully placed on a nearby chair.

“Bhai sa, where’s your gift?” Prisha asked eagerly.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Prem laughed and handed Siya a small box. “Bhabhi sa, this one’s for you.”

Siya opened it, and a delighted smile lit up her face.

“What’s inside, Bhabhi sa?” Prisha asked curiously.

“These are such pretty bangles,” Siya replied.

But as she lifted them out of the box, she froze for a second.

“Look! Bhai sa’s name is engraved on them!” Prisha exclaimed with a giggle.

Then Prem turned to Ekansh, handing him another box. “And this one’s for you, Bhai sa.”

Ekansh opened it, glanced inside, then shot Prem a dangerous look.

“What’s this supposed to mean?” Ekansh asked dryly.

Prem replied while laughing dramatically. “Well, since you’ve been walking around with Bhabhi sa’s name written in mehndi on your hands, I thought you might like to wear it permanently too!”

Hearing that, Siya’s eyes widened—she turned to stare at Ekansh in disbelief. shock written on her face.

“Bhabhi sa, you didn’t know?” Prem teased again. “Haven’t you seen it yet?”

“Prem,” Ekansh warned, his tone low but dangerous.

Prisha quickly snatched the box from his hands and gasped. “Wow, perfect!”

Inside lay a beautiful ring—with Siya’s name delicately carved into it.

Everyone admired it with delight. It was a moment filled with laughter, warmth, and a hint of unspoken emotion.

“I didn’t know that you like me this much,” Siya teased Ekansh with her usual playful smile, the exact tone he usually used to taunt her. Everyone around was busy admiring the rings.

Ekansh turned his head toward her, his eyes sharp and dangerous. She met his glare with the same daring look.

“Devar sa, you’ve brought such a beautiful gift — why don’t you help your brother wear it too?” Siya said sweetly, deliberately teasing Ekansh.

“Yes, Bhabhi sa, you’re right,” Prem joined in, picking up the ring. But as soon as he caught Ekansh’s deadly expression, he stuttered, “B–Bhabhi sa, maybe you should do it yourself,” and quickly handed the ring to Siya.

Siya stared at Prem with widened eyes, shocked at his sudden retreat.

“Yes, Bhabhi sa, make him wear it!” Prisha said excitedly.

Siya turned toward Ekansh and extended her hand. He lifted his, his gaze still dark and dangerous.

With a teasing smirk, Siya took his hand and slipped the ring onto his finger. Then she turned his hand to see her name and she froze.

Her name was carved on his palm. Not written with mehendi but written with knife.

Startled, Her breath hitched. she immediately let go of his hand, aware that pair of eyes were now watching her. something shifted softened—in her gaze, and she quickly looked away, not wanting Ekansh to notice it.”

Just then, Prem’s voice broke the silence. “I’ll have all these gifts placed in your chamber.”

Siya and Ekansh exchanged a startled glance.

“No, I’ll do it,” Ekansh said quickly, almost too quickly.

“But Bhai sa, why would you do it when I’m right here?” Prem asked, puzzled.

“I said I’ll handle it,” Ekansh replied, his tone commanding.

Siya whispered under her breath, not even looking at him, "Aur toriye palang (bed)?”

He leaned slightly closer, replying in the same quiet tone, “Don’t forget — you fell with me. We broke it together.”

“Ekansh, Prem is right. Let him do it,” his mother said gently.

“Maa sa, everything related to Siya is now my responsibility,” he said, pressing every word with deliberate weight, his gaze locked on Siya.

“As you wish,” his mother said softly.

By the time he turned to leave, he whispered close to Siya, “A new bed will be placed by evening,” and walked away with penting, leaving her staring after him.

The day had passed in a whirl of rituals and guests. Siya had spent the entire day surrounded by family and guests. Ever since Ekansh had left, he’d been occupied with some work, and the two hadn’t met even once. He had also taken his dinner with the guests.

Now, Siya was in her room, while Devika helped her change and remove the heavy jewelry.

Just as Ekansh had promised, a new bed had been arranged in the chamber.

“Siya, I’m so tired now—but this string isn’t opening at all! You tied it so tightly,” Devika complained.

“Oh, I must’ve tied it too hard by mistake,” Siya replied, trying to hide the truth.

‘How can I tell her that it was Rana-sa who tied it?’ she thought to herself.

“What are you thinking, Siya?” Devika asked, noticing her expression.

“N… nothing. What would I even think?” Siya answered quickly.

“Can I ask you something?” Devika said curiously.

“Yes,” Siya replied.

“You’ve never been able to tie the back-string blouse yourself. You always ask for my help. Then how did you manage to tie it so perfectly today—and so tightly that it won’t even open?” Devika asked, confused.

“Actually, Devi… at first, I couldn’t. But I tried for a long time, and somehow it got done,” Siya said, trying to convince her.

“But it’s tied so perfectly—it looks like you’re an expert at this,” Devika teased.

“How many questions will you ask! And really, is it tied that perfectly?” Siya said awkwardly.

Her thoughts began to drift again.

“How does Rana-sa know how to tie a string blouse so well… and that too, so quickly? His eyes were closed then… still—” she stopped her thoughts midway.

“No, Siya! Why do you even care?” she muttered to herself.

“What are you thinking so seriously?” Devika asked again with concern.

“Nothing,” Siya said softly.

“Siya, Rana-sa didn’t hurt you, right? I was really worried about you,” Devika said gently.

“No, Devika. He never hurts me—and he never will. Don’t worry, I’m absolutely fine,” Siya assured her.

“If you say so, then I believe you,” Devika smiled.

“Siya, I can’t do this anymore. You try to open it yourself. Or should I just cut it?” she asked.

“No! Maa-sa gave me this blouse with love. We can’t ruin it,” Siya said firmly.

Just then, they heard footsteps outside. Both turned toward the door—and it was none other than Ekansh.

Devika immediately bowed her head respectfully. “Now I’ll take my leave,” she whispered to Siya and hurried out of the room.

Ekansh slowly closed the door. The click of the door made Siya’s heart skip a beat. Her pulse quickened as he turned back toward her and began walking slowly in her direction.

He stopped just a step away, his eyes fixed on her. Siya stood frozen where she was.

Seeing a faint, teasing smile on his lips, Siya asked in confusion, “Why are you smiling?”

“You’ve changed all your clothes… except for this blouse,” he teased lightly.

“Because of you,” Siya shot back angrily.

“Oh? So you want me to open it for you?” he said, his voice low and mischievous.

“Stop saying such things!” Siya snapped.

“What kind of things?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You know very well what I’m talking about!” she said sharply.

“No, tell me,” he insisted, stepping closer.

“Just open it!” she said irritably.

“What’s the hurry, Rani-sa? The night has only begun,” he said with a smirk.

“Go to hell! I’ll do it myself,” she said, turning away.

But before she could take a step, he caught the last string of her blouse and gave it a sudden tug. The fabric loosened instantly, and she stumbled back against his chest due to suddenly force.

In one swift motion, he turned her around, pulling her against him—her front pressed to his. One of his hands rested on her waist, the other still holding the loosened tie at her back.

Her heart pounded violently, her breath catching as she felt the cold  against her bare skin. His movements had been too quick for her to react.

“Leave me,” she managed to say, her voice trembling.

“Not yet,” he murmured firmly.

Then she suddenly felt something cool touch her back. Her eyes fluttered shut as her breathing grew uneven.

“What is this?” she whispered, trying to push him away, but his hold didn’t budge.

“It’s sandalwood paste,” he replied calmly. “The string was too tight all day—it might have left a mark or caused irritation.”

“Then why did you tie it so tightly?” she snapped. His hand still lingered on her waist, making it impossible for her to move.

“I applied this sandalwood paste, So that what’s about to happen… you can feel it completely,” he said in a low, serious voice.

Siya’s eyes widened in shock. Before she could react, he gently took her wrists and bound them behind her back with a soft cloth.

“Are you insane? Do you even know what you’re doing? Why did you tie my hands?” she shouted, struggling to free herself.

Ekansh took a step back, letting her go. Siya instantly moved a few steps away from him, glaring.

“Come here,” he said firmly, his gaze unblinking.

“No! I won’t,” she snapped.

“If I have to come to you, Rani-sa, it won’t be good for you,” he warned quietly.

She didn’t move—only stared back at him, her eyes burning with defiance.

He started walking toward her, slow but deliberate.

She stood her ground, her glare challenging his.

When he stopped a few inches away, he reached for the loose end of her dupatta tucked at her waist—and pulled it free.

She tried to step back, but he held her firmly by the waist.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said sharply.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she shot back.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m going to claim you—as mine, forever.”

Siya froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

Then, slowly, he took a step back and knelt before her. Siya stared at him, stunned, unable to understand what was happening.

He took out a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay a breathtakingly beautiful waist chain—its border designed like delicate gold links, studded with tiny diamonds. From it hung little pearls and diamond droplets that shimmered in the soft light.

As Siya instinctively moved, he raised his hand gently to stop her.

Then, taking one end of the waist chain, he brought it around her from behind — beneath her dupatta — guiding it slowly toward her belly button. His fingers deliberately brushed her skin along with the chain, tracing a line from her back to her front, made her freeze in place.

Siya’s breath grew heavier — not with shyness, but with anger. She couldn’t move; Ekansh had held her firmly in place.

The cold touch of the gold chain against her skin mixed with the warmth of his fingers, and that contrast only fueled her fury.

The corner of her dupatta had been pulled free from around her waist, though it still remained securely draped over her shoulder. Half of the fabric now hung in front of her and the other half trailed behind. Nothing was visible, of course — he had loosened just one corner, only to make it easier to fasten the chain.

Finally, he locked the chain near her belly button with a small golden key. A tiny gold ghungharu hung at the end, chiming softly as he secured it.

Then he stood up, maintaining a single step’s distance between them. His expression was unreadable, while Siya stood still — her breath uneven, anger blazing in her eyes.

“It’s a beautiful cage — a muh-dikhai gift from my side, Rani Sa,” Ekansh said in a low, dominating tone, his dark eyes piercing into hers. “It will always remind you whom you belong to. You may refuse to accept me as your husband, but this will remind you that you are my wife.”

Siya’s fury flared even stronger. She took a sharp breath, her words cutting like blades. “Untie my hands once, and I’ll shatter your beautiful cage into countless pieces. I’m not something you can claim.”

“Challenging me?” he asked dangerously, his gaze sharp as steel. “You can’t distance yourself from my claim, no matter how much you try.”

He stepped closer, closing the space between them. Placing one hand firmly on her waist, he pulled her nearer — only an inch apart now his dark eyes locked on her. Her fiery gaze met his, refusing to waver. With his other hand, he finally untied the rope binding her wrists.

Then, releasing her, he walked to the bed and sat down, leaning lazily against the headboard, clearly enjoying the sight of her struggling to open the waist chain.

After several failed attempts, Siya looked up at him furiously.

Ekansh smirked, raising his eyebrows. “The key’s with me, Rani Sa. I know how mischievous you can be, so I spent the entire day designing it this way — it only opens when I wish. Don’t waste your energy. It won’t open without the key.”

“Fine,” she shot back. “Then instead of unlocking it, I’ll break it.”

“It won’t break,” he said simply.

Siya tried pulling it off with force, but before she could go further, his tone turned dangerously low.

“In trying to break it,” he said with a straight face, “every scratch you get — I’ll kiss that place.”

She froze instantly, staring at him in disbelief.

“What?” she managed, almost shocked.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “You heard me right. I said it — and I’ll do it.”

Siya quickly pulled her hands away from the chain, glaring at him. “You are the most cruel person in this world!” she shouted.

“Yes, I am,” he replied with a smirk. “And this is just a glimpse Rani sa.”

“You’re going to sleep on the bed?” she asked sharply.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.

“Then where will I sleep?” she demanded.

“On the same bed, of course. Where else?” he teased.

“Never!” she snapped.

He stood up and walked toward her, his voice turning husky. “You’ll sleep on this bed, Rani Sa — either by your choice or by force. The choice is yours.”

Before she could respond, he lifted her effortlessly in his arms, cradling her in a bridal hold.

“Put me down!” she said dangerously.

He carried her to the bed and dropped her onto it.

“What kind of behavior is this? What if my bones had broken?” she complained furiously.

“You told me to put you down,” he replied playfully. “So I did.”

“You—!” she gritted her teeth, glaring.

“Good night,” he said with a satisfied smile and turned toward the garden.

Siya sat on the bed, staring at him in stunned silence.

Before stepping out into the garden, he looked back and said softly, “People call thorns a punishment — but for you, Rani Sa, even the softness of flowers will become your punishment.”

Without waiting for her reply, he walked to the garden.

Siya sat still for a long moment before whispering to herself, “The moments that bring joy to every wife — for me, they’ve become punishment. And he’s taking advantage of that.”

She lay down on the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for a long time, restless. Finally, irritated, she sat up.

“Why can’t I sleep?” she muttered, stepping off the bed. Unknowingly, her feet carried her toward the garden.

When she reached there, she found Ekansh lying on the ground, hands folded beneath his head, eyes closed, face calm.

She whispered to herself, “The bed soften as flowers feels like thorns to me, while he sleeps on the thorny ground as if resting on soft petals.”

Without opening his eyes, Ekansh spoke teasingly, “Rani Sa, are you planning to sleep beside me tonight as well?”

“What? Why would I sleep near you? So you were pretending to sleep all this time!” she exclaimed.

He chuckled softly. “If you didn’t plan to sleep, then why are you here? Don’t tell me you came to take advantage of me?” he teased, propping himself up on one elbow, his mischievous eyes glinting.

“What nonsense! Why would I take advantage of you?” she retorted sharply.

“That, only you would know,” he replied with a smirk.

Without another word, she shot him a furious glare and stormed back inside..

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authoshivi

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authoshivi

Writing fell first then I fell Harder ☺️ In Shivi’s world, love knows no limits.