“I’m not much of a heavy sleeper,” he replies. “Comes with the job. But today, I’ve apparently taken on babysitting duty.”
A smile sneaks back onto my lips. “Can I give you a suggestion?”
“You don’t need to ask. Go on,” he replies.
“You could just lock them in a room and go sleep somewhere else,” I say innocently. There's a beat of silence. Did I say too much? Did I just mess it up?
“I’m shocked,” he says finally, laughing, his voice echoing through the phone. “My sweet, innocent-looking wife has such dangerous ideas.” I cover my face with my hands, already cringing, but he continues.
“I would’ve done it, honestly, but this is my office. I can’t risk them destroying important files. Still, not a bad idea.” Then he adds, “If it were up to me, I’d lock them in for two days. No food. No water. Just for ruining my night.”
I gasp, half laughing. “That’s horrible! You can’t be so harsh.” Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. My tongue really doesn’t know when to shut up. I hit myself on the forehead softly.
“You’re supposed to be on my team,” he says, mock hurt. “I’m your husband.”
“You’re not,” I reply before I can stop myself.
“What?” he says, confused. “What do you mean, I’m not?”
“I mean... you’re nottechnicallymy husband yet. The wedding hasn’t happened.”
There's a pause. Then his voice drops, playful and teasing. “If you say the word, I’ll marry you right now.”
Ugh.Why is he like this?
I bury my face into my pillow to hide the blush that creeps across my skin. “You’re too much sometimes.” He chuckles, warm and low, and then we fall into a comfortable silence. I can hear his breathing, soft and steady. It’s not awkward. It’s comforting. And then suddenly, his voice cuts through the quiet.
“Are you okay, Shivani?”
The question hits harder than expected. I blink rapidly, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Why would he ask that? No. I’m not. I have a bruise on my thigh from earlier today. My father threw me into a table because I was talking too much—smiling too much. I’m supposed to be quiet. Controlled.Invisible. If my mother hadn’t stepped in and reminded him that I’m getting married soon, he might’ve done worse. He warned me not to breathe a word of it to anyone or else—but this... this is normal. This is just how life is.Right?
I can’t tell the truth. So I don’t.
“Yeah. I’m okay. What about you?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound as casual as possible.
He’s quiet for a moment. I don’t know if he believes me. Then he says, softly, “Just two more days, Shivani. And then you’ll be mine. And I’ll be yours. Just two more days.”
11
RUDRAKSH
Tomorrow is our wedding.
I didn’t really take part in most of the rituals. Not because I was being difficult, but because I just don’t believe in them. Shivani knows this about me. She didn’t mind, and honestly? That’s all I care about. It’s our wedding, and I don't really care about what anyone else thinks. Nothing really matters buther.
But still, I showed up—only for the important ones, though. Mostly because my mom wanted me to. But if I’m being honest, it wasn’t even about the rituals—it was just an excuse to see Shivani. Watch her smile. Catch her laugh; it’s becoming a bit of an obsession, I think.
Maa told me I’m not allowed to go to the office for a week. “New groom rules,” apparently. So yeah, I’m working from home. It’s not as terrible as I thought. In fact, I think I like it more than I should—because every now and then, I get to steal glances.
I hear her laugh from the other room, and my day feels better. Lighter. Her laughter—it’s the first thing I noticed about her. That one phone call Aryan made to her… she laughed, and I swear, I wanted to bottle that sound. If I could tattoo a sound on my soul, it'd be her laugh.
Since then, I’ve only wanted one thing—to be the reason for her happiness.
Tomorrow, she’ll be living here. With me. In my space. And for the first time in my life, that doesn’t bother me. I want her here.With me.I want to see her every morning. I want her things to be scattered around the bathroom sink. I want to fall asleep next to her and wake up to her voice.
But there’s something else too—something heavier.
Her relationship with her parents? Off. The way she barely talks to them. The way her face drops every time she’s about to leave and go back to that house… I’ve seen it. And that call I overheard— I can’t forget that either. It's fresh and a direct punch to the gut.
