Chapter 7 - Behind Closed Doors
As the door shut behind them, silence wrapped around Ira and Aarav like an invisible force. The grand wedding, the endless rituals, the overwhelming presence of family—all of it had faded away. Now, it was just the two of them. Husband and wife.
Ira stood at the threshold of their new room, her fingers unconsciously gripping the heavy fabric of her lehenga. The room was elegant, dimly lit by the soft glow of warm golden lights. It was vast, yet it felt suffocating. Because she knew what this marriage truly was.
Aarav, still dressed in his sherwani, walked past her, his presence effortlessly commanding. He removed his watch, placing it on the bedside table with a sharp click. She swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs when she felt his gaze on her. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t indifferent. It was something in between.
“Relax,” he murmured, his deep voice breaking the silence. “I’m not going to touch you.”
His words should have brought relief, but why did her heart race instead?
She nodded, quickly lowering her gaze. This was a contract marriage. There were no expectations. No real bond. And yet, why did the way he looked at her make her skin tingle?
Aarav walked toward the couch and sat down, leaning back as he ran a hand through his hair. His sharp jawline tensed before he spoke again.
“I’ll sleep here,” he said, tapping the couch. “You take the bed.” His voice was calm, but there was something else laced within it. A quiet authority. A silent claim.
She hesitated before nodding, stepping toward the bed. But just as she turned away from him, his next words made her stop in her tracks.
"You are mine… even if it’s for six months."
A shiver ran down her spine. She clenched the fabric of her lehenga, refusing to turn around. Why did those words sound like both a promise and a warning?
Aarav didn’t say anything else. He simply lay back on the couch, closing his eyes as if the conversation was over. But for Ira, sleep wouldn’t come easily.
Because somewhere deep inside, she knew—this marriage may be temporary, but the way he looked at her? It wasn’t.
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The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Ira stirred, her lashes fluttering open as she blinked away the remnants of sleep. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until her gaze fell on the beautifully decorated room, the traces of last night’s wedding still lingering in the air. Her wedding.
Her eyes instinctively moved to the couch, but it was empty. Aarav was gone.
She sat up slowly, her fingers brushing against the heavy bangles adorning her wrists. The weight of sindoor in her hairline and the mangalsutra resting against her skin sent a strange awareness through her. It was all real. Even if only for six months.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she slipped out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor. She went to the washroom did her morning routine and She moved towards the wardrobe, picking out a rich red saree, the color deep and bold against her skin. As she draped it around herself, she stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting the pleats.
That’s when she felt it.
A presence. A gaze that burned through her reflection.
Her fingers stilled. Her breathing hitched.
Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her eyes to the mirror—only to find Aarav standing at the doorway. His gym clothes clung to his toned body, his damp hair pushed back, tiny beads of sweat glistening against his sharp jawline. But it wasn’t his presence that shook her. It was the way he was looking at her.
His dark eyes traced every inch of her reflection—the red saree hugging her curves, the delicate mangalsutra resting against her skin, the sindoor in her parted hair.
Something flickered in his gaze. Something intense. Something possessive.
Ira’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to move, to look away—but she couldn’t. Her fingers, still mid-motion, remained frozen on the pleats of her saree.
And then, without a word, Aarav took a step forward.
A slow, deliberate step.
Her fingers curled against the fabric.
His eyes never left hers in the mirror. Dark. Unreadable. Claiming.
The air in the room grew thick. Unspoken tension wrapped around them like an invisible thread, tightening with every heartbeat.
Ira swallowed, feeling her pulse race.
Why did this feel different? Why did it feel… real?
Aarav didn’t say anything. He simply watched her for a moment longer before finally looking away. As if breaking himself out of a trance, he grabbed a towel and walked towards the bathroom, leaving her standing there—breathless and shaken.
But as he disappeared behind the door, one thought refused to leave her mind.
If this was just a contract, why did he look at her like that?
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? Exciting News! ?
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