Chapter 19

"Suno," I said, peeking from behind the washroom wall.

I hoped he hadn't gone to sleep yet. It had only been twenty minutes since I walked into the bathroom to wash my tear-stained face.

I had been crying ever since Dad showed up in my room and gave me a hug. It was the best hug I could ask for, but good things come with some pain, and the pain in my situation was my red and puffy eyes.

I stepped out of the bathroom, not getting any response, and took small steps while holding the side of my heavy red lehenga as I entered the room.

His room was neither black nor grey; it was off-white with huge glass windows that led to a balcony. There was a dark blue couch and a small coffee table in front of it. Another door, probably a closet, was situated in the room, and the walls were decorated with his photo frames.

As I moved a little forward, my eyes settled on the bed—more specifically on the person who was lazily lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, and ruffled hair.

Taking another step toward the bed, I leaned slightly and whispered in a low voice, "Suno." I really don't know why I'm saying 'suno' instead of his name, but it feels weird to call him 'Veer' right now.

Marriage effect, maybe.

When he didn't stir from his position, I took another step until I was just a step away from the bed and leaned in, bending my knees so I was at his eye level.

If I could sleep in my lehenga, I would do so, letting him rest peacefully as he was right now. His features looked soft in the nighttime, possibly due to the room light, but they did seem gentle.

His eyes were closed, giving me a full view of his long lashes. His breathing was steady and relaxed. My gaze slid down further until it reached his lips, and that's when I noticed a small mole on the corner of his lower lip. It was almost unnoticeable unless you looked closely.

But wait, why am I staring at him so closely?

I'm here to ask him to lend me clothes for tonight, not to stare at him inappropriately.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside and whispered again, "Suno!" This time, my voice was a bit louder.

Thankfully, his eyes fluttered open, and he rubbed a hand lazily on his face, causing some strands of hair to fall over his forehead. The urge to smooth them away was quite irritating. but he looked at me.

Clenching my lehenga tightly, I tried to shift my weight to the other leg, as I couldn't really kneel down fully. I opened my mouth to speak but suddenly my eyes widened as I lost my balance and fell back with a thud.

It hurt. My eyes scrunched in pain as a low whimper escaped my lips. The heavy embroidered lehenga pressed painfully into my lower back—definitely going to leave some redness.

Slowly opening my eyes, I saw him hop down from the bed and kneel in front of me. The sleep had vanished from his face as he gently held my arm. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched all over his face.

"Vo, I was calling you for clothes. Can you lend me something—" I narrowed my eyes at my lehenga. This enormous and heavy garment was making it difficult for me to breathe properly.

Looking up again, I continued, "—something comfortable to wear. I would have slept, but this lehenga is too heavy, and I'm hardly able to breathe. I know you were sleeping, and I'm—"

My words were cut off when he suddenly stood up and walked toward another door without saying anything.

Did I just annoy him?

He had looked like he was having the best sleep of his life a few minutes ago, and I might have ruined it. Maybe I should have brought my suitcase with me instead of assuming the workers would send it by the time I arrived.

A light thud sounded, and I looked up to see him holding a pair of clothes in his hands. His steps were unsteady as he walked toward me, and then he smiled—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it didn't seem fake either.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't realize I was still sitting on the floor. Shaking my head, I stood up, using the edge of the bed for support.

"Here," he said, holding out the clothes as he stood in front of me, with his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and tall height. Stop thinking.

Taking the clothes from his hand, I slowly made my way to the dressing area to remove the jewelry—they were so heavy and itchy.

Looking in the mirror, I see my own reflection. The crimson veil is still secured on my head with numerous pins, and heavy earrings, a necklace, and a mangtika are still adorned on my body.

Releasing a tired breath, I start to remove the pins from my head. Taking out the first hairpin, I place it on the dressing table. As I continue, the number of hairpins keeps increasing until I lose count, and by the end, my hands ache from the effort.

I hate this.

I was about to undo my bun when my eyes met his. He was standing just behind me, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants.

He inhaled deeply before saying, "Let me help," and stepped closer until I could feel his warmth on my back.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" I asked as he began to remove a hairpin. Instead of answering, he shook his head without looking up and gently removed another pin.

My hands rested on my lap as I watched him through the mirror, removing all the pins and letting my hair cascade down. My head felt much lighter once it was free, though there was a stinging pain on my scalp from how tight the bun had been.

Just when I thought he was done helping, he surprised me by starting to take off my earrings one by one. Then he removed the mangtika, pausing as he saw the vermilion on my forehead.

The corner of his lips lifted slightly, as if he might smile, but it quickly turned into a yawn as he looked away to hide it.

Turning my head, I looked directly at him. "You're clearly sleepy. Just go. I can—" He cut me off, saying, "So what if I am? I can still help you." He cupped my face in his hands and gently turned my head around.

He then unfastened the heavy necklace from my neck, his fingers brushing against my skin in the process, and placed the jewelry on the table.

After that, he moved to my right side and took my hand, slowly removing the heavy bangles from it but leaving a red one in place. He did the same with my other hand.

As I was about to stand up, he suddenly knelt down and lifted the hem of my lehenga, revealing my feet. "I—I can do this on my own," I stammered, but he interrupted me.

"Un-hmm," he murmured, tracing the design of the payal before unclasping it and doing the same with the other one.

After taking them off, he straightened up and looked at me. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared at me—really stared—without moving an inch. "thank you," I said to him, then he walked away, chuckling and ruffling my hair.

I watched him taking small steps to the bed, where he slumped down and took out his phone. Inhaling deeply, I gathered the clothes and walked into the bathroom.

After a long shower, I put on his clothes: black shorts that reached nearly to my calves and a plain white T-shirt that ended in the middle of my thighs. I put on the red bangles and mangalsutra before walking out of the bathroom.

As I approached the bed, I found him already asleep with the lights on. Dropping the towel on the armrest, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone, and walked out onto the balcony.

Then I settled myself on the hanging chair, folding my legs comfortably. Suddenly, a wave of chilly wind swept by, sending a shiver down my spine.

I looked around for something to cover myself with and noticed a thin blanket draped over the armrest of the lounge chair. I got up, walked over to it, retrieved it, and returned to my previous spot, snuggling into the blanket.

The chair continued to sway gently as I glanced up at the sky, observing the darkening clouds—it looked like it would rain. A few stars shone through the dark clouds, and a cold breeze passed through the trees, creating a soothing sound.

Suddenly, I remembered the text message. Turning on my phone, I opened the messages and tapped on Ivan's contact. I accessed the camera option, took a screenshot of the unknown number's ID, and sent it to him.

me : Search for a hacker.

I needed to find out who was sending me these texts because, despite blocking them and changing my number, they still managed to reach me. Today's message seemed particularly serious.

I couldn't understand why this person was texting me. Did I somehow know them? Could it be Ekansh? But he had never made such threats and had distanced himself from me, not even showing up at the wedding.

Closing the app, I opened Google and saw the trending news: 'Veer Singh Oberoi got married to Siya Malhotra, people are sending their good wishes.' The title was accompanied by a photo of Veer and me standing on the stage.

I zoomed in on the picture when a drop of water fell on the screen. Rubbing it away with the blanket, I looked up at the sky, noticing that one drop turned into two, then multiplied into several.

Tiptoeing back to the room, I sat on the edge of the bed, carefully removed the blanket, and tossed it onto the couch. I glanced back at him, taking in the sight of his sleeping face.

Earlier, when I had seen him asleep, his face glowed warmly under the room light, but now, bathed in the dim, silvery light of the moon, he looked serene and peaceful.

Lying down, I turned onto my left side, my gaze fixed on him as he slept. As I watched him, my eyes grew heavy, and they fluttered shut, carrying me into a tender, dream-filled sleep.

A sharp ray of sunlight falls on my face, and my eyes flutter open. The curtains are moving, causing the sun rays to hit my face again, making me scrunch my eyes against their harshness.

Slowly opening my eyes, I glance outside from the corner of the glass window I forgot to close last night. It offers a sneak peek of the sun in a beautiful blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds.

I smile at the sight of the sky.

Suddenly, a heavy weight lands on my shoulder, jolting me from my half-asleep state. I realize he has placed his head on my shoulder. A few beats pass, and my eyes close again as I remain rooted in place.

Then I feel him shifting. His hot breath fans near my ear as he struggles to make himself comfortable in the crook of my neck, gently nuzzling, which sends shivers down my spine.

A ringing sound echoes in the silence, and panic rushes through my veins. Grabbing the phone from the side table, I press the silent button and check the caller ID.

Mr. Ivan Kapoor.

Why does he always wake up this early?

Sliding the green button, I answer the call. "Good morning, ma'am," he says. Taking a deep breath, I reply, "Good morning, Ivan. Why did you call?" My voice is low, barely audible.

I wait impatiently for his response, hoping not to disturb Veer. After a few minutes, Ivan speaks, "I saw your text from last night, so—"

Suddenly, Veer's hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. "—when should I start—"

I cut him off, "Ok-okay, stop." More like I was stopping my husband, who was now nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck.

"Okay," Ivan mutters from the other side in a low voice. Tilting my head to the other side, I reply, "I'll call you when I'm free," and end the call immediately.

Dropping the phone to the side, I exhale before focusing on the man cuddling me as if I'm a teddy bear. His lips brush against my neck, and the warmth on my face increases as he closes the distance between his lips and my skin.

His lips touch my neck firmly, like a kiss. Closing my eyes, I slowly and gently try to remove his hand from my waist, but he's so heavy. I barely manage to push his hand away, let alone move him.

After a lot of struggling to avoid waking him, I slip out of his hold. Placing a pillow under his arm, I free myself completely.

Releasing a breath, I close the balcony door and pull the curtain shut. The harsh sun rays fade, and my eyes relax a bit. Then a knock startles me. Walking to the door, I open it to find a servant with my suitcase.

Thanking him, I take my suitcase inside and open it. My eyes dart around, and I see that Mumma packed some decent traditional outfits for me, especially sarees. A green saree with golden embroidery catches my attention.

Taking it out, I walk to the bathroom to take a shower. By the time I start draping the pleats of the saree, Veer wakes up and rests his head on the headrest, watching me.

I struggle with the pleats as they keep slipping from my hands until they fall apart. Frustrated, I slam my phone on the table and try again.

Then I see him hop out of bed and approach me. Leaning against the dresser, he looks me up and down. "Help karun?" he offers, extending a hand.

"Tum karoge help?" I ask, raising a doubtful brow. I'm not convinced he can help with draping the saree. I struggled with it and watched ten tutorials to no avail.

A sly smile spreads across his lips as he nods, taking the pallu from my hands. "Hamesha," he replies.

My eyes are fixed on him as he handles the material with precision. His fingers expertly gather the fabric, folding it meticulously until the pleats are perfectly formed.

I lift my gaze from the neatly arranged pleats to find him already looking at me. A smirk plays on his lips as he shows me the finished pleats in his hands.

But my attention is abruptly diverted by a sudden pull. I realize he has tugged me by the hem of my petticoat without my noticing. Heat rushes to my face as I find myself standing very close to him.

Our eyes remain locked as his fingers brush against my bare stomach. He slowly adjusts the pleats into place, then takes the pallu and drapes it over my right shoulder, letting it cascade to the floor.

His hands settle on my shoulders, turning me around to face the mirror. He stands behind me, leaving no space between us. Leaning close to my right ear, his voice fills the space with a teasing whisper.

"Better than your tutorial aunties, hm?" he asks, his dark eyes meeting mine in the reflection.

Chuckling, I nod and reply, "Better than those aunties."

𖤐

"If you need help, call me, okay? I'm sitting in the living room," Veer's mom—or my sasu maa—said in a gentle tone.

When I got downstairs after getting ready and leaving Veer behind as he was taking a shower, she greeted me lovingly and reminded me that it was my pehli rasoi, so I needed to prepare a sweet dish for everyone.

Veer's chachi mentioned that I could skip the ritual if I didn't want to participate, but I didn't want to refuse, so I agreed. They then showed me to the kitchen, where I now stood—alone—trying to decide what to make.

I had never really cooked before, surviving mostly on simple roti and dal whenever my cook was on leave. Given that I needed to make a sweet dish, the only recipe that came to mind was—kheer.

Yes, kheer seemed like a good option.

I opened Google and typed in the recipe for kheer. After checking the ingredients, I placed the phone on the counter and started looking for them.

First, I needed rice. Remembering where it was stored, I reached for the top shelf and got on my tiptoes to fetch the container. My fingers barely touched the container before it slid back, making it difficult for me to get a hold of it.

"Should I help?" a voice startled me. I turned around in surprise to see Veer leaning on the door with his arms crossed over his chest and his ankles crossed.

Controlling my racing heart, I mirrored his pose and crossed my arms over my chest. "Hmm—" I hummed, trying to keep my composure.

Veer pushed himself off the door and strolled toward the counter. Picking up an apple from the fruit basket, he took a bite and said, "Why? Need a cook instead of a stalker? Interesting."

"As I said, I'm fine with a businessman. Now, if you want to help, get me that container of rice," I said, pointing to the rice container.

Walking towards me, he threw the apple my way. I caught it instinctively with my hands and glared at him. A chuckle escaped his lips as he stood in front of me, looking down at me.

Suddenly, his 6'2" height seemed even more imposing compared to my 5'6" frame, and I barely reached his shoulder. But seriously, all the complaints must have made an impact only on him.

I shifted my eyes away from him and placed the apple on the counter. He retrieved the container and placed it near the stove. I opened it, took a generous amount of rice, and emptied it into a bowl.

Then I narrowed my eyes at him, who was now standing near the counter, leaning into my phone where the recipe was open. I took the bowl and walked over to him, placing it next to my phone.

Our eyes met, "Okay, so I have to rinse them. I'll do that now, Cook Sahiba." He muttered with a smile before starting to rinse the rice for at least 4-5 times.

I shook my head and read the recipe one more time before proceeding. I poured the milk into the kadhai and stirred it until it thickened. Veer had finished washing the rice by then and had placed it on the stove to cook.

After that, he stood beside me and did nothing but watch. He even offered to stir the milk for me, but I refused and told him to go outside.

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Oberoi. Now, if you don't mind, go and sit at the dining table. I'll bring the kheer," I said. He responded with, "As you wish, Mrs. Oberoi," and walked out of the kitchen While shoving his hands in his pockets.

I then mixed the cooked rice into the milk, added sugar, and some dry fruits that Veer had already chopped. Stirring it for a few more minutes, I covered the kadhai and moved to get a serving bowl.

A maid helped me with the serving, and we both walked to the dining area. My palms were sweaty with nervousness, wondering if they would like it or not. I knew I wasn't a terrible cook, but making kheer was a first for me.

My steps came to a halt when I saw him. He was already looking at me, a smile forming on his lips. He looked away suddenly as Ahaan nudged him from his left.

"Oh, you came. What did you make, beta?" his dad asked, folding the paper before putting it on the table.

Looking at him, I answered almost shyly, "Kheer." He smiled, the age reflected in the wrinkles around his eyes. "Then deri kis baat ki? Let's have a taste of it now," he exclaimed in a happy tone. Nodding at him, I served everyone and waited for them to taste it.

The first reaction I received was from Ahaan. "It's so tasty, bhabhi. I loved it." Then his father said, "It's really nice, beta." A smile erupted on my lips as I listened to their compliments.

I love compliments.

A few minutes later, everyone had expressed how much they liked the kheer, except for my husband. I watched him, hoping he would say something, but he didn't. Instead, he just finished his portion of the kheer before anyone else.

That must mean he liked it, right?

"Beta, why are you standing? Go and sit beside Veer," his dad said. I walked over to sit beside him. Watching him, I saw him pour a spoonful of kheer into a small bowl before sliding it towards me.

My eyes flickered between him and the bowl—the same bowl he had been eating from. But he continued to eat the rest of his food.

Curiosity built inside me as I held the spoon and tasted the kheer. The rich, creamy, and soft rice taste exploded on my tongue. I took another spoonful. It tasted really good and was definitely not what I expected. Should I start a cooking business?

In no time, we finished our late breakfast or lunch. Then, his mother suddenly said something that almost made me choke on my last bite.

"I was thinking, why don't you guys stay here for at least a month?" Instinctively, Veer handed me his glass of water. After chugging a few sips, I looked at him.

Lifting a brow at me, he leaned in and swiped away the moisture around my lips with the pad of his thumb. Swallowing a lump of nervousness, I finally replied with a smile, "Okay."

𖤐

"It'll have three rounds, and whoever wins the major will have more say in their matters. And I'm not showing favoritism, but I'm cheering for my Siya," she said, giving my forehead a quick peck.

After our lunch, the elders mentioned that there was one more ritual or game the couple had to participate in. It was a simple one: fish out the ring first, and then your partner would listen to you for the rest of their life.

We all gathered in the living hall with everyone present. The maids set up the items for the game, and we—the couple—sat facing each other in front of everyone.

I turned to see Veer, who muttered something under his breath before sitting up straight. His eyes narrowed briefly at his mom before settling on me.

'Can't help it; I'm her favourite now,' I communicated with my eyes, giving a slight shrug.

His chachi filled a large bowl with milk, then mixed in some turmeric and red rose petals, stirring gently.

"So I'm going to put this ring in the bowl, and you'll both have to reach your hands in at the same time," Mummy— as she asked me to call her—explained the rules. She placed her hand near the bowl and continued, "I'll start counting, and by three, you both know what to do: find the ring." She stared down at the bowl.

"One," my eyes met his black orbs.

"Two," our hands rested on the edge of the bowl at the same time.

She didn't count further; we both turned to look at her. A satisfied smile appeared on her face, as if she was waiting for us to look at her, and then she finally said the number.

"Three," and the ring submerged under the turmeric milk.

Our hands plunged into the bowl almost immediately, searching for the ring desperately. His hand moved in circles, while I reached into the center, where the ring seemed to have settled.

His hand brushed against mine as he threaded his fingers between mine in search of the ring. We weren't focused on the bowl; our attention was on each other.

A cold metal touched my hand. Looking down at the turmeric water, I grasped the ring before he could, pulling my hand back and showing it to everyone with a smile. They all smiled back, and I burst into laughter at the look on his face.

"Aww, bhaiya, don't worry you'll lose the second one too," Ahaan said with fake sympathy, patting Veer's shoulder lightly. The elders chuckled at the playful banter.

The ring was placed back in the water, and we both wasted no time shoving our hands in again. The process made us move our hands, grasp petals, and feel each other's skin against ours.

This time, I found the ring a little earlier. A smile formed on my lips as I glanced at him. Pulling my hand back, I showed the ring to mummy.

She clapped once, catching everyone's attention. "So this is the final round, and the score is 2:0," she announced.

Immediately, Ahaan strolled over to me and knelt. "Bhabhi, you've got to win. Enough of bhaiya ki dadagiri," he whispered in my ear, grinning and giving me a thumbs up.

I chuckled, reciprocating his enthusiasm with a thumbs up and a nod.

Turning my attention back to Veer, I raised an eyebrow challengingly. He smiled, tilting his head at me. Mummy started counting again, trying to trick us like before, but we weren't falling for it. As soon as she dropped the ring, we plunged our hands into the bowl.

Water splashed out, soaking our clothes in the process. He swirled his hand around the edges, leaving the center for me. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he was giving up.

But suddenly, he drew his hand toward the center. Instinctively, I placed my palm around the ring as it settled in the center, preventing him from taking it.

Clenching my palm tightly around the ring, I gave him a tight-lipped smile. Suddenly I felt him hold my hand under the water. The ring slipped from my grasp, and he seized the opportunity to grab it.

Feeling amused, I fought for the ring, holding his hand and trying to open it—once, twice. On the third attempt, thinking he was just having fun with me, I tried to pull my hand back. But suddenly, he gripped my hand firmly, resting the cold metal on my palm before pulling his hand out.

Shocked, I pulled my hand back, revealing the ring. Everyone smiled and clapped. Ahaan teased Veer, saying he would have to listen to me for the rest of his life. I looked at Mummy and his chachi, who were laughing at Ahaan.

Turning my head back to Veer, my hazel eyes met his intense black ones. He smiled at me, his dimple deepening and his eyes sparkling. My heart raced, and warmth fills my face at the sight.

His smile was beautiful.

Someone shook my shoulders, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked, trying to remove his smile from my mind.

Ahaan gave me a side hug and exclaimed, "We did it, bhabhi!" and then reality hit me.

I won.

And he handed me the ring.

𖤐

"I saw how you went easy on me back there," I said, my voice low. He turned around to face me.

It was past ten p.m. as we entered our room. The ring game had finished half an hour ago, but we had been sitting in the living hall, talking—more like Ahaan and Mummy were talking, and the rest of us were listening.

But all I could think about was what he did at the end of the game. He had clearly gone easy on me by handing me the ring, and it seemed he had intentionally lost every round.

"What?" he asked, turning fully to face me.

My hands rested on my hips as I stared at him. He was playing dumb, but I knew he had lost on purpose, and I didn't like it. I wanted to win on my own, not with his help.

Holding the pallu in my hand, I twisted it and tucked it into the side of my saree. "I know you lost intentionally, and it's not fair—not to me, and not to you either," I said. His eyes were on where I had just tucked the pallu.

I cleared my throat to catch his attention. His eyes snapped back to me as he said, "You might want to lose; that's why you're saying this to me."

I huffed at his words. "I want to win—fairly," I stated, looking directly into his eyes.

"So what are you suggesting? We should do it again?" His voice deepened as he gazed at me with challenging eyes. I nodded and walked toward the dressing table, holding a clutch between my lips. I twisted my hair and made a bun.

"Okay," he whispered before disappearing into the closet.

As I redid my bun, I sat down on the carpet in front of the bed and waited for him.

"You paint?" I asked as he strolled toward me with two small bottles of white and yellow paint and a bowl of water in his hands.

Sitting across from me, he opened the lid and answered, "Sometimes." He poured some white paint into the water and mixed it with a brush.

So he paints sometimes. What else can this man do? He knows how to drape a saree, cook, and now he paints.

wow.

Shifting a little on my ankles, I rested my face in my palms. "Okay, so what do you paint?" I asked—genuinely curious—watching him pour some yellow paint into the milky white mixture.

Suddenly, my elbow slipped from my knee as I heard him say, "You."

"Huh?" I asked absentmindedly.

He lifted his face, and a light crimson shade covered his ears. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "You should guess what I paint; it will be interesting this way," and took off his ring.

Oh, he should have completed it in one go.

"Now shall we start?" he asked, holding the ring. Nodding at him, I sat up straight and focused on the bowl.

I'll win this one too, but fairly.

He placed the ring at the corner of the bowl and began counting to three. I released a breath and kept my hand on the edge of the bowl. By the count of three, the ring slipped from his hand and sank into the painted water.

Our hands dove into the water, searching for the ring. This time, he didn't pretend to find it; his hands roamed every corner of the bowl. My fingers brushed against his skin until I felt the ring. I wasted no time grasping it and pulling my hand back.

Holding the ring between my fingers, I showed it to him with a mocking smile. He took the ring from me and started counting again.

We drew our hands back into the water, searching for the ring. This time, his movements were faster, and the colored water swallowed every hint of transparency, making it hard to see.

A frown spread across my face as I found nothing. Looking up, I saw a smirk on his lips as he showed me the ring in his hand. A groan escaped me. I snatched the ring from his grasp and began counting to three.

On three, our hands were back in the bowl. This time, it didn't take me long to find the ring, but he kept pushing it away from my reach.

"You're clearly losing, Mrs. Oberoi," his voice filled the silence. Glancing at him, I tried harder than before.

Keeping up with the pace, I retorted, "No, I'm not. I've won one round along with you, so it's a tie for now, Mr. Oberoi." I pushed his hand away to take the ring.

A question popped into my mind. "What will I get if I win this round?" I asked, wasting no time. His hand was still preventing me from taking the ring.

"As you say, and if you win, I'll be at your mercy for the rest of my life," he replied. And as soon as he finished, my hand landed on the ring. I grabbed it and pulled my hand back with a smirk.

Suddenly, a wave of boldness washed over me. I leaned over the bowl to reach for his hand, holding it gently in my palms. I pulled him closer and slid the ring back into its place.

The proximity between us increased as we looked into each other's eyes. I swallowed a lump of courage before uttering those five bold words to him.

"Then be at my mercy."