20
The familiar, comforting scent of fresh filter coffee and blooming jasmine hit Adhira the second the front door of her home swung open.
Her mother let out a joyful, emotional cry, pulling Adhira into a crushing hug before immediately turning to dote on her new son-in-law.
Shreyash stepped over the threshold, instinctively dropping his gaze and respectfully touching the feet of both Adhira's parents.
He was dressed flawlessly in a crisp beige linen shirt and dark trousers, the absolute picture of a calm, cultured, and perfectly behaved gentleman.
Watching him politely accept a glass of cold water from her father, Adhira had to bite her inner cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
"Alright, enough standing around," her mother announced, immediately grabbing Adhira by the wrist. "Come with me, I need to see exactly how much weight you've lost from wedding stress."
Before Shreyash could even offer a helpless glance, Adhira was dragged down the familiar hallway and pushed into her old bedroom. The door clicked shut, sealing them in.
"Sit," her mother commanded, pointing to the edge of the bed. She crossed her arms, her sharp eyes scanning Adhira from the top of her neatly pinned hair down to her silver anklets. "So? Tell me everything. And don't give me that polite nonsense you give your aunts."
Adhira smiled lazily, leaning back on her hands against the mattress. "I'm fine, Ma. Everything is great."
Her mother narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "Is it? Shreyash is such a quiet, respectful boy, Adhira. He is practically a saint. Please tell me you are behaving yourself. You have such a fierce temper, and he is so polite... I worry you'll run right over him."
Adhira let out a soft, breathy laugh. Her mind instantly flashed back to the dining table earlier that week.
She remembered the exact, panicked shudder that had ripped through his massive frame when she slid her bare foot up his inner thigh, and the desperate, bruising grip of his hand clamping around her ankle under the tablecloth.
He wasn't a saint. He was a tightly wound coil of pure, repressed tension just waiting for her to snap it.
"He handles me perfectly fine, Ma," Adhira murmured smoothly, a wicked thrill shooting straight to her toes. "You really don't need to worry about his survival. He's... adapting."
Her mother paused, her maternal radar clearly picking up on the heavy, satisfied undertone in her daughter's voice. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face as she noticed the unmistakable, radiant flush on Adhira's cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the Bangalore heat.
"Well," her mother said softly, patting Adhira's cheek. "Good. He might be quiet, but still waters run deep, as they say."
Out on the sunlit balcony, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The warm afternoon breeze rustled the potted palm leaves. Ayan handed Shreyash a tall glass of iced lemonade, leaning back against the metal railing and crossing his arms. He studied his new brother-in-law, who was standing stiffly by the brick wall, looking like he was bracing for a pop quiz.
"So," Ayan started, a deeply cynical smirk playing on his lips. "It's been a few days. The honeymoon phase is settling."
Shreyash cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Yes. We are... settling in very well."
"Have you seen it yet?" Ayan asked bluntly, taking a sip of his drink.
Shreyash blinked, completely caught off guard. "Seen what?"
"Her true colors, Bhai," Ayan scoffed, shaking his head.
"Look, we've been friends for years, but let's be honest. Adhira is a absolute menace.
She's stubborn, she's bossy, she has zero patience, and she takes exactly what she wants without asking.
Have you experienced the full hurricane yet, or is she still pretending to be a sweet, docile bride? "
Shreyash froze. The glass of lemonade stopped halfway to his mouth.
She takes exactly what she wants without asking.
. He felt the phantom, burning heat of her lips brushing his jawline, the bewitching, utterly shameless way she looked at him when she purred his name, and the agonizing, blinding friction of her bare toes dragging up his thigh while his parents were sitting merely inches away.
She wasn't pretending to be docile. She was actively, ruthlessly seducing him at every possible opportunity, completely tearing down his sanity brick by brick.
A massive wave of heat crashed over Shreyash. The tips of his ears immediately burned a furious, violent scarlet. He squeezed his eyes shut for a split second, an involuntary, rough swallow bobbing his Adam's apple as his body reacted entirely on its own to the memory of her pressing against him.
"She is..." Shreyash choked out, his voice suddenly dropping an octave, sounding rough and dangerously breathless. He gripped his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. "She is..."
Ayan paused. He stared at Shreyash's violently flushed face, his heaving chest, and the sudden, intense darkness swimming in his dark eyes.
"Bro," Ayan said slowly, his cynical smirk completely dropping off his face, replaced by absolute, dawning horror. "Why are you blushing? Why did your voice just do that?"
Shreyash snapped back to reality, his eyes widening in sheer panic. "I didn't...my voice didn't do anything! The lemonade is just very sour!"
"Oh my god," Ayan groaned loudly, turning around and burying his face in his hands, completely mortified. "I asked about her personality, Shreyash! Her personality! I didn't want to know about your sex life!"
"I am also not talking about my sex life!" Shreyash practically yelled, taking a massive, frantic step back toward the sliding glass door. His face was now the color of a ripe tomato, radiating heat like a furnace.
"I am going to jump off this balcony," Ayan muttered, refusing to turn around. "Just... go back inside. Go sit with my dad and do not look at me. I can't face you right now...dammit."
Shreyash didn't need to be told twice. He turned and practically fled back into the safety of the living room.