CHAPTER 2
Wadhwa Mansion
Standing before the mirror in her room, Mishti adjusted the soft pleats of her blush-pink lehenga, the sequins catching the light like tiny stars trembling across silk.
She had pinned her dupatta delicately over her shoulder, and her long hair had been swept into a low bun, from which a few strands framed her face.
That was her wedding reception look tonight. Sweet and innocent. Just like her.
She pressed her palms together, trying to calm her nerves. Nothing felt right because Karan wasn’t home yet.
The reception had already begun an hour ago at her mayka (Goel House), and everyone was waiting for them.
Gathering her lehenga in her hands, she walked out of the room.
Maria met her in the hallway, smiling. “Sir’s waiting by the car, ma’am.”
Was he here? Thank God. Mishti nodded before she headed for the driveway. The black Mercedes gleamed under the porch light. And there, leaning against it, was her husband.
Karan stood beside the car, checking the iPhone in hand. But when his gaze lifted, when those dark eyes met hers, everything inside her stilled.
For the first time since their wedding, she saw something flicker in his eyes that wasn’t indifference or frustration. It was desire. The kind that a newly married husband has in his eyes for his wife.
Forgetting the phone in his hand and whatever was keeping him busy, his gaze roamed over her. From the delicate curve of her neck, down to the shimmer of her dupatta… and lower, lingering at the strip of bare skin visible between her blouse and lehenga.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she saw his Adam’s apple bobbing once before he met her eyes again.
He looked like a man trying not to look and failing miserably.
She forgot everything she had planned to ask…about the cold and strange start between them, about why she wasn’t allowed to share his bedroom. All of it vanished under the heat of that gaze.
A soft buzz on his phone brought him back to reality. Karan ignored the notification and pushed the phone into his pocket, waiting for her to get to him.
She took hesitant, baby steps, her fingers nervously clutching the fabric at her sides as she reached him.
“Karan… we need to talk.”
His head tilted slightly, as if the very word talk irritated him. Before she could take another breath, he caught her by the arms and pinned her against the car door.
It wasn’t rough, but it was undeniably dominant.
Karan leaned in, his breath brushing warmly against her temple. Their height difference was unmistakable. He stood at six feet, towering over her five-six frame. If they ever hugged, her forehead would just about reach his jaw.
“I think your brother forgot to tell you something before our marriage.”
She had no clue what and had no courage to ask him that either. Not when he held her so close, not when his eyes burned into hers like he would eat her whole.
Karan’s lips curved in a humourless smirk, seeing the confusion on her face.
“Karan Wadhwa doesn’t listen to anyone. He does things when he wants to do them. So, we’ll talk when I want to talk. Not when you do.”
Her heart thudded painfully this time. What kind of man was he? Why was he behaving so bitterly with her?
“Now get in the car,” he added. “Act like the obedient wife that you are… and let’s get this done with.”
Her lips parted in shock, but before she could respond, he released her. He walked away, not even looking back, and got into the driver’s seat.
Mishti’s mind screamed at her to say something, but her voice refused to obey. Maybe it was fear.
She gathered her lehenga, opened the passenger door herself, and slid in silently.
The car carried the faint trace of his cologne, an intoxicating scent she’d unwillingly grown to like.
Maybe because it was the only part of him, she could have, something she could breathe in without needing his permission.
As soon as he started the engine, her gaze drifted to the strawberry-red lip gloss on the console.
Her brows furrowed. She picked it up, staring at it for a second too long.
“Whose is this?” she murmured.
Karan’s hand shot out, snatching it from her grip. Without looking, he tossed it into the back seat. “Kanika’s. She left it there this morning.”
The mention of that name again made something twist in her stomach. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but a strange discomfort.
The drive continued. Half the time, Karan was on his Bluetooth headset, speaking to someone commandingly, all business. The other half, he was silent…eyes on the road, jaw tight, thinking.
Mishti sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap, wondering when would he want to talk to her and clear all her confusions. Maybe never!
When they finally reached Goel House, he parked, stepped out, and adjusted his jacket without glancing at her. She waited foolishly, hoping that he would come around to open her door. But he didn’t. So, she quietly got down and followed him inside.
****************
Goel House
Goel House glittered that evening with crystal chandeliers, rose-gold drapes, and guests flowing in. The reception was grand, exactly what one would expect from a union that carried both business power and social prestige.
Divya Goel, Mishti’s sister-in-law, dressed gracefully in a light pink saree, stood near the entrance, welcoming the guests. Her smile could light up the room, but tonight it carried a trace of weariness, waiting to meet Mishti and to know if she was fine.
“Good work, Divya.” Her husband, Daksh Goel, said reaching her with pride. “You’ve really organised this party so well.”
“It’s your one and only sister’s wedding reception, Daksh,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Why wouldn’t I give my best?”
“Correction, Sweetheart.” He gave a mocking chuckle. “It’s not my sister’s wedding party, it’s my half-sister’s.”
Divya sighed, turning to face him fully. “She’s away from you now. But the dislike you have for her… will it ever fade?”
“Never,” he said. “The best thing I’ve done is getting her married off.” His lips curved wickedly again before he gestured for a waiter for champagne.
Divya’s heart tightened. Mishti had never done anything to deserve that kind of cruelty from her brother.
Sweet, gentle, and pure-hearted, she was the kind of woman who still believed love could heal the world.
But what Divya had seen at the wedding haunted her even now.
Karan Wadhwa’s eyes hadn’t softened once when they’d fallen on Mishti.
Even during the rituals, while she trembled with nervousness, he had sat beside her like a man untouched by emotion, as though the sacred vows meant nothing more than a business contract to him.
It was that chilling indifference that made Divya’s chest ache. She’d noticed how his hand never once reached for Mishti’s, even when tradition demanded it. And Mishti, trying to hide her hurt behind a brave smile, had looked more fragile than ever.
Hence, Divya had been desperate to speak with her now, to look into her eyes and make sure she was truly alright.
To know if Karan, with his hard stares and unbending silence, was treating her with even a fragment of tenderness she deserved.
Because if he wasn’t, Divya wasn’t sure how long Mishti’s gentle heart could survive being caged beside his ruthless one.
As she turned toward the doorway again, her eyes immediately caught the sight of Mishti, who looked ethereal in a soft pink lehenga. Behind her, Karan walked like he owned the earth beneath his feet.
“Mishti!” Divya called out, rushing to her.
Mishti turned, her eyes filling instantly. In that single moment, every ounce of grace she tried to hold onto melted away. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around her Bhabhi. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she buried her face in Divya’s shoulder.
“Bhabhi…” she whispered.
Divya stroked her back gently before pulling back to look at her. “How are you?”
The question sounded simple, but Mishti knew what it really meant.
How are you holding up? Is he treating you right?
Are you happy? A hundred answers fought to spill out …
how Karan barely looked at her, how they weren’t even living in the same room…
but she stopped herself. ‘A wife must handle her marriage without turning it into a public spectacle,’ her mother had said to her once.
It was a rule Mishti had been raised to live by.
“I’m fine,” she said again, forcing a small smile.
Divya’s brows drew together. “You sure? Because your eyes say something else.”
Before Mishti could respond, Karan approached.
“So, Mrs Goel thinks I’m not keeping my wife happy?” he asked in sarcasm.
Divya was startled, but she refused to look intimidated.
“It’s a woman’s thing, Karan,” Daksh, who reached them, responded with a laugh. “No matter how much you keep them happy, they still have to crib.”
Divya’s eyes flashed in irritation. “We don’t crib, Daksh. It’s called concern. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
Daksh smirked but wisely said nothing, sipping his drink instead.
“Let me introduce you to my circle, Karan. Please come,” Daksh gestured toward the main hall, and Karan walked away with him.
Once they were gone, Divya turned back to Mishti. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. Are you really happy with Karan?”
“Yes, Bhabhi. I’m happy.”
Divya didn’t believe her for a second. But she said nothing, brushing a stray tear from Mishti’s cheek.
“You look beautiful,” she whispered gently. “Come. The guests are waiting for you.”
Mishti nodded faintly, turning to Karan, who was across the room. He was already moving through the crowd, glass in hand, talking with acquaintances, completely at ease, completely in control. The same man who barely acknowledged her at home was now charming everyone effortlessly.