CHAPTER 43
Next Day Morning
Mishti stirred in the bed, only to be pulled closer. His lips found hers, and in that instant, memory rushed back. She recalled where she was and what had happened.
Last night, she and Karan consummated their marriage, crossing that line at last.
They had finally let sleep claim them sometime after three in the morning, exhaustion overtaking everything else. Her body felt deeply satiated, yet sore and heavy, the kind of tiredness that made her feel like she would need a full week to recover from everything they had done.
Karan’s lips drifted from her mouth to her neck, settling over the spot where her pulse beat softly. That was when she opened her eyes and looked at him.
He was still shirtless. At some point after freshening up, he had slipped into his grey lounge pants, while she was still wrapped in his shirt, the same white one that had started everything the night before.
She wasn’t sure if Karan had slept at all, because even through the night, all she had felt were his arms and his mouth on her skin, still teasing her gently, as if unwilling to let her go even in sleep.
The sensations were still alive, humming beneath her skin.
He finally lifted his head, nuzzling briefly between her breasts before raising his face to hers and smiling. It was the sweetest smile she had ever seen on him.
Suddenly, their closeness felt almost too intimate.
Thankfully, her phone rang at that very moment.
Mishti shifted slightly to reach for it, and Karan let her go. She slid the shirt back up over her shoulder, buttoning the top few buttons herself, coming back to her modest self, before she grabbed her phone and moved away from the bed.
Karan leaned back against the headboard, watching her as she went straight to the dressing mirror, fixing her hair while answering the call.
“Yes, Rukhsar,” she said.
Rukhsar was one of the coordinators at the Sahara Foundation.
“Yes, I got your message last night,” Mishti continued, as she adjusted her hair. “No, the donor meeting cannot be postponed. Please go ahead and finalise the venue. I’ll review the proposal once you mail it to me.”
She paused, listening.
“Yes, I know I’m not there, but that doesn’t change anything. Make sure the rehabilitation unit gets the additional funds cleared. And Rukhsar… keep an eye on the children’s education project. I don’t want any delays just because I’m away.”
Karan, who had been watching her all this while, finally slipped off the bed and moved closer.
He came up behind her, gently sweeping her hair to one side.
She saw it all through the mirror. His mood.
His expression. The way his eyes darkened as he leaned in and pressed a hard kiss into the crook of her neck.
Mishti barely managed to contain the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. He did not care that she was still on a professional call.
Rukhsar said something, but Mishti hardly processed it this time, not when his hand slid beneath her shirt again, gripping her breast firmly as his mouth traced slow, unhurried kisses along her neck and down to her shoulder blade.
She was losing control far too quickly. Thankfully, Rukhsar’s voice grounded her just enough for her to focus back on the call.
Rukhsar asked when her flight back to London was.
“I’m landing at Heathrow day after tomorrow, late afternoon,” Mishti replied.
The moment the words left her mouth, both of them froze.
Karan stopped kissing her instantly. His hands withdrew from her skin. He lifted his head and looked at her through the mirror. When her gaze met his, she could read it on his face. He was not happy about her leaving for London, especially after everything that had happened between them last night.
Karan’s eyes gave him away. He was losing his calm. If she had been dealing with the old Karan, he would have pinned her to the mirror by now, demanded how she could still choose to leave after last night. But he did not.
He did not say a word.
He simply turned away, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him.
Only when she heard the click of the lock did Mishti finally exhale, her eyes closing as she replied to Rukhsar again. “Good. Call me if there’s anything urgent.”
She ended the call moments later and put the phone away. Karan was clearly unhappy. But had he not confessed just last night, before everyone, that he would let her choose this time? Perhaps this was him keeping that promise. That was why he had not argued. That was why he had walked away instead.
Her phone rang again. This time it was Avni.
Mishti answered immediately.
“I’m so nervous,” Avni blurted out. “I can’t believe it’s my wedding today. Babes, I need you with me. I’m such a mess. I don’t even know where to start.”
Mishti smiled softly and calmed her down. “I’m coming there, okay? Just give me an hour. I’ll shower and come straight to you. Relax. The mahurat is in the afternoon. We have time. The makeup artists will be there soon, and they’ll help you with everything.”
Avni agreed, sounding calmer already, and disconnected.
Mishti lowered the phone and looked at her reflection in the mirror again.
She looked different. She felt different too.
Her body still carried that sweet ache deep within. She could still smell him on her skin. Still feel his mouth on her neck and shoulders, as if he had imprinted his touch on her.
****************
Three hours later, Mishti helped Avni get dressed as a bride. Today was her big day, and only after Avni was completely ready did Mishti return to her own room to dress. She and Karan were to perform the kanyadaan ritual for Avni, as her brother and sister-in-law.
Karan was still out at the mandap with VK, overseeing the final preparations and greeting guests.
When he returned, Mishti was already inside the room, dressed in the same red lehenga he had given her the other day—the one she had refused then.
The lehenga was undeniably bridal in its design, but the way Mishti had draped the veil over one shoulder, tucking and pinning it carefully, softened its presence.
She ensured it did not take away from the real bride’s moment.
Today, Avni had to shine more than anyone else. Not her.
Yet, Karan couldn’t stop admiring her. Red, his favourite colour, had always been the colour of revenge for him.
Until she wore it. The colour set her skin aglow, and for a fleeting second, he forgot how to breathe.
She looked no less than a bride herself today, just a different kind.
One who glowed from having been claimed, cherished, and loved thoroughly by her husband.
She was fastening her jewellery when she sensed him enter the room. Their eyes met in the mirror. Realising he was staring for too long, Karan finally moved.
He went to the closet, opened it, and returned with a long, rectangular box, placing it gently in front of her on the dressing table.
Mishti looked up at him then, her brows knitting slightly.
“What’s that?” she asked softly.
“Something you once loved wearing,” he said. “Something that mattered more to you than anything else.”
She knew instantly.
Her eyes welled as she opened the box. And there it was… A mangalsutra. Not the one he had made her wear during their wedding. This one was new.
She turned to him, confused. “Why a new one?”
“The old one carries memories I don’t want following you anymore,” he replied. “And it broke once, didn’t it? Even though we fixed it, I didn’t want you wearing that again. So, I had this made for you.” He paused. “You can wear it at least for today… since we’re doing Avni’s kanyadaan.”
Something pricked inside Mishti. Did he think she wouldn’t want to keep wearing the mangalsutra after Avni’s wedding? After she goes to London?
She didn’t voice the thought yet. Mishti simply lifted it from the box and placed it around her neck. Before she could hook it herself, Karan’s fingers brushed the nape of her neck and fastened it for her. She let him. Their eyes met again in the mirror, but Karan was the first to look away…again.
Standing behind her, he leaned toward the dressing table, took a pinch of sindoor from the open dibbi, and gently filled the parting of her hair. Not too much. Just enough to make her look married. And his.
Mishti was taken aback by the gesture.
She wanted to speak to him. Say something. Anything to break the heavy, cold silence that had settled between them since that morning, ever since he had heard her mention London again.
But Karan didn’t linger. His phone rang that very moment, and he turned away, answering the call, telling Rajat he was coming to his room. Rajat probably needed something. After all, Karan was the groom’s best friend.
And just like that, Mishti was left alone.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the red of her lehenga, the sindoor, the mangalsutra—all of it staring back at her. Karan was deliberately avoiding the conversation. She could feel it. And his silence was slowly breaking her.
****************
The marriage rituals began. Mishti and Karan brought Avni forward together, guiding her outside to the mandap.
Abhimanyu, though Avni’s brother as well, stood beside Rajat instead, along with Kanika and Komal.
VK’s eyes brimmed with tears as he watched the little girl he had raised as his own all these years, now grown, now a bride, now becoming his daughter-in-law.
He couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Once Avni was settled beside Rajat, Mishti and Karan moved aside, standing together as silent witnesses while the couple followed the priest’s instructions. The chants filled the air, but there was something else flowing quietly between Mishti and Karan.