ANAISHA'S POV
After he left the room, I stood up from the bed to change my clothes and went into the closet. As I entered, the air in the walk-in closet smelled of polished leather and a faint, clean scent of fresh laundry. It was a space built not for show, but for utility and quiet elegance. The walls were lined with custom-built cabinets made from dark, rich walnut, some with solid doors and others with panes of glass that offered a tantalizing glimpse of the contents within.
Along one side, behind doors with sleek, minimalist handles, shirts were hung in neat rows, each one spaced just enough to breathe, a silent parade of crisp whites, subtle blues, and a few tailored patterns. Below them, trousers were folded neatly over dedicated hangers, their creases sharp and perfect.
Shoes weren't a jumbled mess on the floor; they were displayed with purpose. Behind a bank of glass doors, a collection of boots, loafers, and formal shoes rested on individual shelves, the shapes and textures a quiet statement of quality. In the center of the room, a low, streamlined island provided a place to lay out an outfit, and inside its drawers, small compartments held ties, belts, and watches, each item having its own designated spot. It was a space of masculine order, where every choice was intentional and every detail served a function.
I was captivated. Then I looked on the right side of the closet. It was connected to his space, but the two rooms felt like different worlds, sharing only the rich scent of fine wood and a quiet reverence for order. My side was a study in soft elegance. Where his cabinets were dark walnut, my was a lighter, creamy oak, the grain a subtle wave beneath a satin finish.
A full-length mirror, framed in polished brass, stood on the center wall, reflecting the gentle glow of a crystal chandelier hanging overhead.
Then I moved towards my side where the light seemed to land differently, illuminating a space that was almost a mirror image but entirely different in tone. The cabinets were a lighter, creamy oak, the grain visible under the artificial light. But unlike his side, the shelves were empty, the hanging rods bare, and the drawers of the central island were pulled out, their velvet-lined interiors waiting. It was a clean slate, a blank canvas of luxury awaiting her to bring her style and her belongings to fill it with life. The space was a solemn promise, a quiet expectation of the beautiful chaos to come.
There were pieces of luggage. I opened one of them, which held my nightgown and lingerie.
I took a red nighty. First I needed to remove my make-up and open my hair because my head was throbbing. So I went to the vanity that was in the center of my closet. A couch was in front of a big mirror. I sat there and started to remove my make-up, then untied my hair. God! There were hundreds of hairpins there; that was why my head was aching. Then I removed my jewellery carefully. Only my mangalsutra, toe rings, engagement ring and the bangles his mother gave me, which belonged to his grandmother, were left on my hands along with some red bangles.
After removing my jewellery, I was looking at my reflection in the mirror. Sindoor in my hairline, and the mangalsutra around my neck. Everything has changed. Now I'm a wife, a daughter-in-law of this house. New responsibilities, new expectations, and maybe more rules too. Why? Why is it always the girls who have to live up to everyone's expectations? Why is it always us? Then that one memory: The memories of my family, their distant behaviour, the coldness in their eyes, break my heart. That one incident, that one mistake, that one storm ruined everything. When I see the hatred in my parents' eyes for me, the same eyes which once held trust and love for me, break my heart. It shattered everything inside me and brought back the same questions; those bitter memories always resurface, raising a thousand questions. Didn't I have the right to speak my truth, even once? Is trusting the wrong person such a severe punishment? Tears streamed from my eyes.
Then the memory of that varmala incident flashed in front of my eyes, how indifferent and detached my family was standing there. Ankit, my little brother... He would always come running to me when my mother would scold him. He would get upset if I got even the slightest injury, blowing on it and applying medicine, even if it was a small one. Today when I look hatred in his eyes, it breaks my heart all over again. Tears continually flowed from my eyes. Then suddenly and unexpectedly the memories of Ekansh, my husband, came into my mind. When he gently held my hand and helped me, when he knelt down so that I could easily put the varmala around his neck, and then, when he softly whispered in my ears, " I'm here now and always " that was a promise-a sincere one that he will never leave my side. A small smile tugged at my lips but it quickly faded. The questions that always haunt me came again. Will he ? Then I suddenly remembered he was standing on the balcony. I quickly wiped my tears, washed my face, changed into my red nighty, a stark contrast to the heavy wedding attire from moments before. I came back into the room.
My eyes fell on the plate of the food and a soft smile blossomed on my lips. His words, the warmth in them, his efforts to make me comfortable came again in my mind. I moved towards the balcony door, opened it, and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool night air was a welcome relief against my skin.
He was standing there, his back to me. His shoulders were stiff with a quiet, inner focus, leaning, his elbows resting on the railing, staring at the night sky. He didn't turn; perhaps he didn't realize I was there. First I hesitated, debating whether I should go, but what would I say? After fighting an internal battle, finally with a sigh and a thumping heart, I slowly moved towards him and stood beside him. But there was a little distance between us-not too close and definitely not too far away, just a space maybe we both needed for now.
When he sensed my presence, he turned, his gaze gentle, a small, assuring smile on his lips. " Feeling better ?"
I nodded, my voice soft. "Yes. Thank you for everything."
He gave me a little nod. Then he shifted his focus back to the sky. I followed his gaze. For some moments we both stood in silence. Then his husky voice came " My dada ji believed in it. He used to tell me stories about the stars. He said they were a map of all the journeys we have yet to take"
I looked at him with a small smile on my lips. "And my Nani maa used to say they were a stage. A place where dancers performed for the gods."
He turned to me, now his full attention was on me, a genuine curiosity on his face. "You are a dancer, aren't you? Maa told me."
Dance-that one word soothed my heart, made my eyes gleam, the hesitation between us beginning to fade. "I am. I'm... a professional Kathak dancer. It's my passion."
"That's beautiful. I'd love to hear more about it sometime," a genuine smile on his lips.
I smiled back.
I felt a little calmer. The conversation was easy, effortless. This simple, shared moment was creating a small, safe space between us.
He didn't ask further nor did I say anything. We both again turned our eyes to the sky full of twinkling stars, hope, dreams. The silence that followed was not heavy anymore; it was comfortable.
After a few minutes of silence, I looked at him directly for the first time after I came to this house. He was handsome.
I was staring at his face when his head turned, looking straight into my eyes. Our eyes met, my heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned, my eyes lowered, looking anywhere but him. " You...... you should freshen up too. It's been a long tiring day for you too."
He didn't say anything. I lifted my lashes and he was staring at me, looking like he hadn't expected this because this was the first time since we met that I had initiated anything. Before, I just gave him a nod or a one or two-word reply. This was the first time I said something to him without him asking first. Then he gave me a short nod and went inside the room. I also went inside.
EKANSH'S POV
We came back to the room. I took my clothes from the wardrobe to change and went to the bathroom. Standing under the shower, cold water relaxing my muscles and mind, sliding away the weariness of the day, my thoughts turned back to her, my wife Anaisha. The memory of the balcony came in my mind. I hadn't noticed when she came and stood beside me; I was lost in my thoughts. When I felt her presence, I turned towards her. Hesitation was still there, but she was looking a little more at ease compared to before. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. I just wanted to make her comfortable, to erase her hesitation, so I asked her, "Feeling better ? "
And my heart felt a little soothed after hearing her "Yes." I was already invested in her comfort and happiness.
I just wanted her to be comfortable with me, in our home. Then I shared my childhood memory with her-that memory was very close to my heart because it was my Dada ji's memory, a man who taught me the best lessons of my life. And she also shared her Nani's memory with me; that was a beautiful thought. And when Anaisha was talking about that, there was a smile in her eyes. Her smile was beautiful, by the way. And when she was talking about her passion, her eyes were shining and there was a spark in them. I simply nodded and I didn't press her for more. The silence felt comfortable now, not heavy or awkward like before.
Then suddenly her soft voice came and I froze for a second. "You...... you should freshen up too. It's been a long tiring day for you too."
I was a little surprised. It was such a small, simple thing to say, but the fact that she had initiated the conversation, that she was thinking of me for a change, was a quiet, welcome shock. I composed myself and nodded.
❁❁❁❁
I came out of the bathroom, droplets flowing from my hair. I changed into black trousers and a white t-shirt.
When I came to the room, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. I looked at the table and the food was still there, untouched. I frowned. "You didn't eat yet ? "
She looked at me, with a soft, hesitant voice. "You are also tired and you also eat."
"No, it's fine, you eat and take a rest. Maa will wake us early," I said.
"Please." And I can't say no to her now, so I nodded and we sat on the couch.
We finished our food in silence, then washed our hands. When I came back to the room she was standing there and looking at the bed. She had a little pout on her lips, and she was looking really very cute. I could feel there was something bothering her. And maybe I knew what she was thinking about: the bed.
" Take a rest " i said
Then she turned to me. "Can I take the right side of the bed ? " Her voice was almost a whisper.
I smirked, wanting to dispel the tension, to make her realize she had every right to the space. " You can throw me out, if you want , biwi ji." I teased her, my voice warm. Her eyes widened, cheeks red, staring. I winked at her and moved towards the left side of the bed.
She doesn't need to ask. It was her room too. My everything was hers too.
Please read :
Im really very sorry for this late first i was not well and then stuck in something there is lots of going in my life. I'm extremely sorry but from now updates will be regular. Thank you for patience.
And please vote, comment and follow me.
❀❀❀❀❀❀
How's the chapter ?
Please do vote ( hit that star icon )
and comments it will help in reach.
✿ Follow me on instagram for updates of the book id in bio ✿
Write a comment ...