chapter 8 - Traditions and Tensions
Ira took a deep breath, smoothing the pleats of her saree as she stepped out of the room. Her heart still raced from that unspoken moment with Aarav, but she pushed it aside. This was her first morning in the Malhotra house as a newlywed. No matter the nature of their marriage, she had to fulfill her role—at least in front of everyone.
As she descended the grand staircase, the scent of fresh flowers and incense filled the air. The entire family was gathered in the hall, engaged in their morning routine. Sunita Aarav’s mother, sat gracefully on the main sofa, sipping her tea. Aarav’s father, read the newspaper, while Aarav’s younger siblings, anika, Kabir, vihaan, chatted nearby. Aarav’s chacha chachi, were also present, along with grandfather virendra
The moment she entered, all eyes turned to her.
Ira’s fingers instinctively curled around the edge of her saree, but she quickly masked her nervousness with a small smile. With slow, respectful steps, she walked towards Sunita first, lowering herself to touch her feet.
"Sada suhagan raho, beta," Sunita blessed her warmly, her voice carrying an affectionate authority.
Ira moved next to Virendra, then to chacha chachi, touching their feet as well. Each of them murmured words of blessings, some warmer than others.
As she straightened, she felt Aarav’s gaze on her from across the room. That same unreadable intensity from earlier. But he said nothing.
Just then, Sunita smiled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "Ira beta, today is your first morning in this house as our bahu. You should make something sweet for everyone—our little tradition."
Ira nodded, already anticipating this. "Ji, Maa." The word felt foreign on her tongue, but she knew she had to say it.
Anika beamed. "Bhabhi, I hope you make something delicious! I have a sweet tooth!"
Ira smiled softly before heading towards the kitchen. But as she walked past Aarav, she heard him murmur low enough for only her to hear—
"You don’t have to do all this."
She halted for just a fraction of a second before regaining her composure. Without looking at him, she simply replied—
"But I want to."
And then she walked away, leaving him staring after her.
Ira stepped into the massive kitchen, taking a deep breath as she looked around. It was unfamiliar territory—an elegant space with gleaming marble countertops and modern appliances, but she wasn’t used to cooking in such a setting. Today was her first morning in the Malhotra house as a bahu, and she had to prepare breakfast. The pressure was real.
She tugged her sari pallu on her waist, she started gathering ingredients, trying to figure out what to make. Her mind settled on something simple yet classic—a traditional Indian breakfast with poha, aalo ka parathas, and a bowl of warm kheer to add a sweet touch.
Just as she was about to knead the dough, a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
You’re struggling."
His deep, husky voice sent a shiver down her spine. She turned around, only to have her breath caught in her throat.
Aarav stood there, leaning against the counter like he owned the space—like he owned her. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, teasing at the hard lines beneath. And then, just to ruin whatever composure she had left, he slowly rolled up his sleeves.
God.
Her eyes betrayed her, trailing over the way his veins flexed along his forearms, the way his fingers worked effortlessly, and the sheer strength in his casual movements. He was just rolling up his sleeves, but why did it feel like a sin to watch?
"No, you’re not," he said, stepping forward.
She instinctively stepped back, but the counter trapped her. He was too close now, his scent—clean, musky, intoxicating—making her head light. Before she could process it, his hands reached out, brushing against hers.
A spark. A moment. A mistake.
Her fingers trembled as he guided them into the dough, his touch firm but teasing. His breath ghosted near her ear, his voice dropping into something wicked.
"Too soft, sweetheart."
Heat pooled in her stomach.
She willed herself to stay still, but her body had a mind of its own. Her heartbeat thundered as she tried to shift, but her foot slipped on the smooth floor.
Before she could even gasp, he caught her.
One arm locked around her waist, the other bracing against the counter, caging her in. Her palms landed flat against his hard chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, firm, possessive.
The air grew thick.
She tried to step back, but his voice stopped her cold.
"Stay."
A single word. A quiet command. And yet, it sent a dangerous thrill down her spine.
His lips hovered near her ear, so close she could feel the heat of his breath.
"Careful, wifey," he murmured, his voice sinful, dangerous.
Ira sucked in a breath, her fingers curling tighter. He was playing with her. Teasing her.
Her body betrayed her. Her pulse raced, her breath uneven, her cheeks burning.
She needed to get away—before she did something reckless.
With all the strength she could muster, she pushed against his chest, ignoring the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. "I–I can handle it," she managed to whisper.
Aarav smirked.
That damned, knowing smirk.
But he stepped back, his eyes lingering a little too long, a little too dark, as if telling her this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
In the Dining Hall
Ira placed the tray on the table, carefully serving the kheer into bowls as everyone eagerly waited.
Sunita took the first bite. Her face lit up instantly. "This is delicious, Ira!"
Nandini nodded in approval. "Perfectly balanced. You’ve done a wonderful job, beta."
Anika grinned. "I knew bhabhi would be amazing!"
Even Virendra, who rarely gave compliments, nodded. "Well done."
Ira’s heart warmed at the praise. She had been worried about making a mistake, but now, seeing everyone smile, she felt at ease.
She risked a glance at Aarav.
He hadn’t said a word, but his eyes met hers across the table, holding something unspoken.
She couldn’t tell if it was approval, amusement, or something else entirely.
But whatever it was, it made her stomach flutter.