She placed a gentle hand on my cheek. “But if you marry Arnav, everything disappears. The loans. The shame. The fear.”
“All you have to do is say yes.” Her eyes were dry. Mine were not.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Then I nodded.
The wedding was held in one of Jaipur’s oldest palaces. Red sandstone walls glowed under thousands of fairy lights.
Guests wore designer lehengas and sherwanis worth more than my father’s old shop. I wore a heavy red saree embroidered with real gold zari.
The weight of the fabric felt like chains. My hands trembled as I walked the flower-strewn aisle.
Arnav waited at the mandap in a custom black sherwani. He sat in a sleek wheelchair, posture perfect, face carved from stone.
He did not smile. He did not speak during the pheras.
His dark eyes followed me—intense, unreadable, almost predatory. I told myself it was anger. Resentment. Nothing more.
The ceremonies ended at midnight. Guests toasted with champagne. I sipped water.
Then the moment arrived. The bride and groom were led to the bridal suite on the palace’s upper floor.
Heavy wooden doors closed behind us. The room smelled of jasmine and sandalwood.
Candles flickered on every surface. A four-poster bed draped in crimson silk dominated the center.
Arnav remained in his wheelchair near the window. Moonlight carved sharp shadows across his sharp jawline.
I stood awkwardly by the door. “I… I can help you to the bed if you want.”
He turned his head slowly. “No need. I can manage.”
His voice was low, controlled, edged with something I couldn’t name. I nodded and looked away.
But then I saw it—his shoulders tensed, his hands gripped the armrests too tightly. A small tremor ran through his frame.
Instinct took over. I stepped forward.
“Let me just—” I reached under his arms to lift him.
He stiffened. “Aarohi, don’t—”
Too late. My grip slipped on the silk of his sherwani.
We toppled together. He landed on his back on the thick carpet. I fell across his chest.
My palms pressed against his solid shoulders. My face hovered inches from his.
Time stopped. The room was utterly silent except for our breathing.
And that was when I felt it. Strong, rhythmic thumps beneath my right hand.
A heartbeat. Fast. Powerful. Alive.
My eyes widened. I shifted slightly—and felt the unmistakable flex of muscle under my palm.
Legs that were supposed to be useless shifted beneath me. Not much. Just enough.
Just enough to prove everything I had been told was a lie.
I froze. He froze.
For several long seconds neither of us moved. Then Arnav’s hand came up—slowly—and wrapped around my wrist.
Not hard. Not threatening. Just firm.
