Chapter Fifteen
Ria's POV
I let out a long sigh as I finally placed the last folded clothes into my side of the closet.
The room - once a battlefield of clothes and chaos - was now spotless.
His suits were untouched, his drawer organized the same exact way I had found it.
Not because I feared him... or maybe, yes - because I did.
I wiped my hands on my dupatta, unwrapping it from my waist.
Knock knock.
The sound jolted me slightly. I hurried to the door and opened it, trying to look composed.
"Ji?" I asked.
One of the house staff stood there, hands folded politely. "Ma'am, Pratap sahab is calling you to his room."
My heart skipped. "Oh... okay. I'll be there in a moment."
As I closed the door, questions filled my mind. Why is Dadaji calling me? Did I do something wrong?
I rushed to the mirror, quickly untying my messy bun and running my fingers through my hair. No time for fancy touch-ups. Just... presentable.
I made my way through the quiet corridors of the mansion, still unsure of what awaited me. My steps slowed as I reached Dadaji's room. I hesitated, then knocked gently.
"Come in," came his warm but firm voice.
I pushed the door open.
For a moment, I stood there - stunned. His room was beautiful. Warm yellow lights, mahogany furniture, embroidered cushions, books lined along the shelves, and a vintage grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner. It felt... cozy. Peaceful. Like it didn't belong in the same house as him.
Speaking of which - there he was. Aansh.
Sitting across from Dadaji, back straight, face unreadable. My heart sank.
Why was he here?
"Yes, Dadaji?" I whispered, standing hesitantly.
"Come sit, my dear," he said gently, gesturing to the plush couch.
I sat down slowly, keeping a safe distance from the storm in human form beside me.
"Why did you ask me to leave my office, Dadaji?" Aansh asked, voice clipped, clearly annoyed.
Dadaji didn't flinch. "I called you both to inform you that tomorrow is your wedding reception."
My breath hitched.
I'd already heard from Kritika and Ishita earlier, but I'd hoped - prayed - it wasn't true. I peeked at Aansh from the corner of my eye, and the look on his face made my stomach twist in fear.
He looked like he wanted to kill me.
And for what? For existing?
"This is nonsense," he said sharply, but he was holding himself back - oddly enough. "What's the need for all this? What's the point of announcing her as my wife when I haven't even accepted her?"
His words cut sharper than any knife.
I don't know why it hurt. He was right. He hadn't accepted me. I didnt accept him too. But still... something inside me cracked.
"Enough, Aansh," Dadaji said firmly. "Ria is your wife - whether you accept her or not. I didn't call you here for your approval. I'm informing you."
The silence was suffocating. I kept my eyes lowered, not wanting to meet either of their gazes.
"Ria," Dadaji said gently, "do you have any problem with the reception?"
I wanted to scream Yes! - to tell them I didn't want to wear a smile for strangers and be paraded like something I wasn't. But I didn't want to disrespect him. Not Dadaji.
"No, Dadaji," I whispered.
"You may both go."
I stood up so quickly I nearly tripped. I didn't dare look at Aansh. I just... left.
I walked aimlessly through the hallways, my feet somehow leading me to the garden. I didn't think. I just needed air.
The garden was like something out of a dream. A white stone bench stood beneath a canopy of climbing roses. A delicate fountain bubbled in the center, surrounded by well-tended flower beds that bloomed with colors I couldn't name.
In any other life, this would be paradise.
I sat down on the bench, staring at the rippling water. The moonlight danced across the surface, but nothing could quiet the storm inside me.
Every girl dreamed of marrying into a powerful family. The Rathore name carried weight. Wealth. Influence. Luxury.
But not me, i had only ever wanted something simple. A degree. A classroom full of children. My family proud of me.
Instead, I was here - a stranger in a palace, a prisoner in silk.
I didn't even know how long I sat there. I'd lost all sense of time.
A soft tap on my shoulder pulled me back.
I turned to see Avantika standing there.
"Bhabhi... you?" I asked, surprised.
She looked concerned. "Ria, what are you doing out here at this hour?"
"I... I just needed some air. I didn't realize how late it was."
"Are you okay?"
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, bhabhi. Just... thinking."
She studied me for a moment but didn't press further. "Do you know what time it is?"
"No..."
"It's ten."
Ten?! My eyes widened. I don't even have a phone anymore to help me keep track of time all thanks to my devil husband.
"Go get some rest. It's late," Avantika said kindly.
"Okay, bhabhi. Goodnight."
I walked slowly back to the room. My legs felt heavier with each step.
I stopped outside the door, hesitant.
The lights were still on. Of course he's awake.
I placed my hand on the doorknob and muttered a silent prayer under my breath.
"Bhagwan, mujhe is rakshas se bacha lena..."
(God, please protect me from this demon...)
I opened the door.
He was sitting on the bed, laptop on his lap, eyes locked on the screen. His face was tense, jaw set. He's always working.
He didn't even look at me.
I walked quietly into the bathroom, took a warm shower, and changed into a comfortable light pink cotton night suit. I wrapped my hair in a towel and stepped back into the room, careful not to make a sound.
He still hadn't acknowledged my presence.
Good.
I sat in front of the dressing mirror and began drying my hair with the towel. I flipped my damp hair to the other side -
Splash.
Some water droplets landed across the room.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Aansh snapped.
I turned slowly, heart pounding.
He stood up, eyes full of fire. "Can't you do anything properly? Or are you trying to test my patience?"
"It's just a bit of water," I mumbled before I could stop myself. "I'm sure it won't harm you."
The room went dead silent.
His eyes darkened, and I regretted it immediately.
He stood up.
I barely had time to react before he crossed the room and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet.
Pain bloomed where his fingers dug into my skin.
"No one talks to me like that," he growled. "Next time, I'll fucking cut your tongue out and just one more mistake, and you will face the consequences."
I gasped, trembling. My whole body screamed to run, to hide - but I couldn't move.
He stared at me for one more second, then shoved my arm away and returned to the bed, typing again like nothing happened.
I stood there, arm burning, eyes stinging.
I wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something at his arrogant face.
Instead, I turned, marched to the couch, and collapsed onto it.
The fabric scratched my skin. The position was awkward. But I didn't care. I pulled the sheet over me and glared at him one more time.
Eventually, sleep came to me slow, like a thief in the night.