There’s genuine confusion in her eyes, a little crease forming on her forehead. I want to smooth it away with my thumb.
I take her hand and place it on my abdomen. “Feel that?” I murmur. “That’s what avoiding oily food gets you, sweetheart.”
Working out is my way of blowing off steam. I’m not obsessed with a strict diet or anything—I just don’t like greasy food. It makes me feel sluggish. She looks stunned, then quickly pulls her hand back.
“Then… why did you eat it today?” She doesn’t get it. Hell, I don’t even get it too. What is she doing to me? I never used togive in so easily. But if something—even something small—can bring a smile to this beautiful face, I’ll do it.All over again.
I step toward her, closer. She instinctively takes a step back. And then another. This continues until her back hits the wall.
“You have to stop stepping back, Shivani,” I whisper, smirking at her. “How else will you learn to walk beside me?”
“And I ate the food,” I tilt her chin up so she has no choice but to meet my eyes, “because you made it, darling.”
I lean in closer, just enough to catch the scent of her skin—jasmine, vanilla, with a hint of citrus. I inhale deeply, almost losing myself. God, I want to bury my face in her neck, lose myself in her scent—but I can’t. Not yet. She’s not ready. And if I ever cross that line before she does, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I can sweat a little more to lose those calories,” I murmur into her ear. "Maybe you’d like to help me with that?"
I take a step back, letting her breathe, watching her flushed face and those fluttering lashes. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath—she’s breathtaking.
“Rudraksh…” She breathes and pushes me back again—though she’s too tiny to actually move me. Still, I let her. I’d promised her I wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want. She hesitates for a beat, but then her eyes lock onto mine—bold, challenging. For once, no stammer. No second-guessing.
That's like my girl.
“Why did you leave me alone?” she says, looking straight into my eyes. “Isn’t it rude to leave your wife alone on our first morning together, Mr. Malhotra?” I love the way she says that—confident, teasing, no stutter, no hesitation. She's questioning me—Rudraksh Malhotra. Even my father doesn’t do that.
“Now that you’ve said it out loud,” I take her hand and pull her into my chest. She gasps as she collides with me. I twist her wrist gently behind her back, just enough to hold her close. “You’ll never spend a single morning alone again, my wife.”
“Rudr… Rudraksh, I was late. You should’ve woken me up. What would Maa think?” she says, her gaze dropping. “She didn’t say anything, but it was my first day, and I woke up at 8 AM—” I silence her with a finger pressed to her lips.
“Shh, darling,” I murmur, tilting her chin so she looks at me again. I like seeing her eyes when I talk to her. “First of all, my mother doesn’t think like that. Even if you woke up at noon, she wouldn’t have said a word.” I trail my knuckles along her cheek, and a breath stutters out of her nose.
“And second, you’re my wife—not a maid. You don’t work here. No one’s going to dock your pay if you sleep in. This is your home now. You can do whatever the hell you want.”
She looks at me like I’ve just handed her a rare diamond. That small smile she gives me—it’severything.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she steps out of my hold and backs away. I already miss her scent, her warmth. But I don’t stop her.
I walk around the desk, open a drawer, and take out the envelope I prepared this morning.
“Here,” I call, walking back to her. “Your first rasoi.” I shrug. “I don’t really get the importance of that ritual, but I’m glad I got to eat something you cooked. It was delicious.”
I lean in again, whispering in her ear, “Just like you will be, baby.” I slip the envelope into her hand.
She stares at me, scandalized—as if I just said something utterly sinful. Her cheeks turn crimson, and she stammers a quiet thank-you before bolting out of the room like I might actually devour her.
Well… maybe I wanted to. But I’ll wait—for the day she wants me to. Not because I do.
Alright then, Mr. Rudraksh. Back to work, I suppose.
18
SHIVANI
Rudraksh is typing away on his laptop beside me, completely lost in his world of work. I’m curled up with a romance novel I found in Aditi’s room earlier. The moment I laid eyes on the cover—dark background, a man in a suit holding a gun—I was already hooked. Aditi had noticed the way my face lit up and handed it to me without a second thought. “Next time I go to a bookstore,” she’d said, “you’re coming with me.” I think she meant it too. That thought alone makes me weirdly warm inside.
The book’s story is wild—the hero is a mafia don who kidnaps the wrong girl but refuses to admit he made a mistake. He’s arrogant and violent, but more than him, I am rooting for the girl. I love her sarcastic humor. The girl in the novel fights back. Me? I shrink myself to fit into someone else's story.
A knock pulls me out of the story. I glance at Rudraksh, who doesn’t move, and set the book down before walking over to the door. When I open it, Maa stands there with a bright smile. She walks in casually and looks at the two of us. Her gaze lingers on Rudraksh, who somehow manages to look distractingly handsome even while drowning in work. There’s a softness in her eyes, like she’s happy just watching him be at peace around me.
