14
RUDRAKSH
“You really think we’ll let you go that easily? You’ll have to pay to enter!” Aditi says, wiggling her eyebrows. I roll my eyes. These idiots have been pestering me for the last ten minutes.
I could push through them in a second. But I didn’t.
Maybe because seeing Shivani made me feel weird, and stalling gave me a second to breathe.
It's not like I don't want to meet her. I really want to, and these idiots have already wasted enough of my time.
Shivani is waiting for me inside, but these four morons have decided to guard the entrance like it's some damn fortress.
“How much do you want?” I ask, already tired of their antics.
“One lakh,” Aditi replies smugly. “Per person,” she adds with a wicked grin.
So, four lakhs in total. Fine. I can deal with that.
“You’ll get it tomorrow,” I say casually.
“Nope. We want it right now, bhai,” Aarav chimes in, arms crossed.
“You earn your own money, Aarav. My one lakh won’t even make a dent in your account. And you all know I can just push you aside and walk in,” I state firmly. It’s not a threat. It’s a fact.
I’ve fought both Aryan and Siddhant in boxing matches and won. They’re decent competitors, but I’ve always got the upper hand.
I glance at Aditi. “And you know I mean it when I say something. I’ve never said no to you, have I?” She may be my cousin, but she’s the only sister I’ve got. Annoying as hell, but I care about her—more than she knows.
“So impatient to meet his wife,” Siddhant teases. “Already whipped.”
“That’s called love, you idiot.” Aryan smacks the back of Siddhant’s head.
“Which is why no girl ever looks at you.”
“We can’t really blame him. Bhabhi is adorable,” Aarav says, and the rest of them nod in agreement like idiots.
“First of all, I’m not in love,” I roll my eyes and reason out. “I just care about her.”
“Second, move. Now.” I say, switching to my intimidating tone. Not that it works on them—they’re used to it.
“Let him go; the poor guy can’t wait to see his wife,” Aditi giggles. I pull her ear playfully, and she yelps.
“Out of my way,” I mutter, pushing the rest aside. Their laughter fades behind me, but it's still buzzing in my ear.
I take a deep breath and open the door to our room. My eyes scan the room, and then I see her—and everything stills around me.
I see Shivani standing on the balcony, her gaze lifted toward the night sky. I made enough noise coming in for her to notice, but she didn't turn around. Maybe she’s lost in thought.
I walk toward her in long strides, my chest tightening with a strange kind of urgency. Just the sight of her does things to me I haven’t figured out yet. As I approach, the moonlight gently bathes her features. She looks ethereal.
“Shivani,” I call softly.
She startles slightly, like someone pulled her out of a dream. When she turns to face me, my breath catches. She’s been crying.
Even a stranger could tell—puffy eyes, red nose, unshed tears still glistening. My heart stumbles like it has missed a beat. I have taken punches in the ring, but this hit somewhere deeper. My pulse spikes. I panic. What happened? I lift her chin gently with my finger.
“Why are you crying? What’s wrong, darling?” I ask, my voice urgent. She doesn’t reply.
“You’re scaring me, baby,” I murmur.
“Speak up.”
She finally looks at me and smiles. But it’s not a fake one. It’s real. “I’m just overwhelmed,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It's because I am happy. The kind of happiness that makes your heart race and you wish for that happiness to always stay.” She chuckles lightly.
“You’re crying because you’re happy?” I ask, confused. I’ve never understood emotions well. Never tried. But I want to understand hers. I don’t get it. I’ve always believed crying was for pain, for weakness. But she’s standing here, fragile and glowing, saying this is joy.
“Yes… it’s the beginning of a new life for me. I’m scared, but I’m happy too.” She mutters with a watery smile forming on her face.
“Shivani…” I softly caress her cheek. Her skin feels like silk against my fingers. “You don’t have to be scared. No matter what happens, I’ll be beside you. Always. Remember that.”
“Thank you,” she says, placing her hand over mine. The contact sends a spark through my chest. God, she’s beautiful.
I hesitate for a second, but I have to ask. “Do you miss your parents?”
It’s been bothering me. Neither she nor her parents really cried during her vidaai. Shivani is emotional—I know that. She cried in front of me, a stranger, on our first meeting, so why didn’t she cry when leaving her family?
Even Meera, her mother, only shed a few tears—and they looked forced. At least to me. Shivani’s face tenses.
There’s a pause before she answers.
“Um… yes. Of course, I do.” A forced reply. She’s easy to read. I want to call her out, but I let it go because, one, we just got married, and this is not how I want to spend our first night confronting her, and two, it has been a long and tiring day.
“You won’t miss them too much,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Everyone here adores you. They won’t let you feel alone.”
She smiles at me. “I’m sure of that. I like everyone here too.”
“I think I should change,” she says. I nod. She’s been in that heavy lehenga since evening, and it’s past midnight. I don’t know how she hasn’t complained even once.
“Before that, did I tell you that you look absolutely stunning?”
She smiles at my comment, the kind of smile that steals your breath away. God, that smile could ruin me.
“Yes, you have. This is the third time,” she says shyly, ducking down her head as she tries to hide her red cheeks.
Adorable.
“Only three times? That’s too little.” I brush my fingers lightly along her jawline. She inhales sharply.
“Rudraksh… can we… can we take things slow?” she asks hesitantly.
I immediately step back, lowering my hands.
It’s going to be hard to keep my hands off her when she looks like that, but I nod.
Whatever happens between us will happen on her terms. I need her to be comfortable.
I want her to feel safe with me. We stand there in silence, just staring at each other.
“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just—”
I place a finger gently on her lips and pull back.
“You don’t have to apologize. I understand, Shivani. Trust me, I won’t do anything without your permission. It’s just that… You’re really beautiful. And it’s hard for me to keep my hands to myself.” I laugh lightly, though it’s not really funny. It’s painful, honestly.
“You’re my husband… I mean, it’s okay if you…” She trails off, cheeks pink. She says and looks down shyly.
“Just because I’m your husband doesn’t mean I get to touch you whenever I want. It’s your body. I’m not doing anything unless you want me to.”
She looks disappointed on hearing my words. Her smile flickers, but I’m not finished. A smirk tugs at my lips.
“But do you want me to touch you, darling?” I lower my voice, my tone teasing and intimate as I just lean more into her personal space. She looks away, flustered, then slowly nods.
“You like it when your husband touches you, baby?” I murmur, tracing her jawline and tilting her face up to meet my gaze.
She nods again. “I need words, Shivani,” I whisper close to her ear.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Give me a twirl,” I say, holding her hand.
“Let me see you, my beautiful wife.” She shakes her head, and I frown.
“Why not, baby?”
“I… I don’t know if I can. It’s silly.”
“Nothing about you is silly,” I say, with patience hanging down on a thin thread.
She fidgets with the edge of her pallu. She opens her mouth and then closes it; hesitation swirls in her eyes, and she looks down again. I gently lift her chin, not letting her retreat. This habit—this looking down—it needs to go. She’s mine now. And I want her to walk with her head high.
“It’s just that… I have back rolls. And they’re not nice to look at,” she says quietly. I stare at her, lost for words. How can someone so breathtaking not see her own beauty? “It's stupid, I know.” She mumbles without letting me speak. Her whispers crack something in me.
“It is stupid, Shivani. Because trust me… you, including your back rolls, are incredibly pretty. And I never lie, Shivani. Especially not to you.” She stays silent, but there’s something in her eyes—a tiny flicker of acceptance.
“Now… twirl for me.”
She hesitates, but then slowly spins. When she faces me again, I cup her face gently.
“You’re very beautiful, Shivani. Every day. And especially today.” I bend slightly and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Can you hug me?” she asks in a small voice.
That one sentence cracks something open in me.
She sounds so vulnerable, like she’s barely holding it together.
I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly.
She melts into my arm, her hair smelling of sandalwood and jasmine.
Her arms slipping around my torso as she leans into me.
We stand like that for a while—no words, just warmth.
“Fifth time, by the way,” she says, her face still buried in my chest.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You’ve called me beautiful five times now.” I chuckle. We both do. I like this.