Chapter 2 #2
With shaking hands, she began to pull the heavy pins out of her hair.
She unclasped the heavy diamond necklace, letting it fall onto the vanity table with a soft clink.
She scrubbed the makeup off her face until her skin was raw and pink.
Finally, she managed to peel off the heavy fifteen-kilogram lehenga, leaving it in a heap on the floor.
She took a hot shower, put on a soft, oversized t-shirt she found in the closet, and crawled into the massive bed. She thought sleep would be impossible, but the moment her head hit the soft pillows, pure exhaustion pulled her into a deep, dreamless darkness.
***
The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving behind a bright, crisp, sunny sky.
Poorvanshi woke up precisely at seven. Her body ached, and her eyes felt heavy, but her mind was completely awake. She remembered exactly where she was and exactly what had happened.
She got out of bed, her jaw set with determination. She was not going to hide in this room. She refused to act like a victim.
Her suitcases, which were supposed to go to the honeymoon resort, had been delivered to her room sometime during the night.
She opened them and completely ignored the heavy, heavily embroidered sarees and suits a new bride was expected to wear.
Instead, she pulled out a pair of crisp, high-waisted beige trousers and a simple, elegant black silk blouse.
She tied her dark hair back into a neat, severe ponytail and put on minimal makeup.
She looked in the mirror. She did not look like a Chaturvedi bride. She looked like an independent architect ready for a business meeting. Perfect.
She walked out of her suite, ignoring the two large security guards who instantly straightened up when she passed. She navigated the massive, confusing hallways of the mansion until she found her way down to the main floor.
She followed the sound of clinking silverware to a large, sunlit dining room.
Siddhant was already there.
He was sitting at the head of a long mahogany table, dressed in a sharp, perfectly fitted charcoal grey suit, his hair neatly styled.
He looked just as cold and unapproachable in the daylight as he did in the dark.
A laptop was open in front of him, and he was quickly reading through a document while sipping black coffee.
The rest of the family, Raghav, Nandini, and a few other relatives Poorvanshi recognized from the wedding, were sitting further down the table.
The atmosphere was incredibly tense. No one was speaking.
They were all eating their breakfast in a terrifying, heavy silence, clearly intimidated by Siddhant's presence.
Poorvanshi took a deep breath, walked into the room, and pulled out a heavy wooden chair directly to Siddhant’s right. The wood scraped loudly against the marble floor.
Every single head in the room snapped towards her.
Nandini dropped her silver fork. Raghav’s eyes widened in sheer shock.
A new bride was supposed to enter with her head down, covered in traditional clothes, waiting to be acknowledged by the elders.
Instead, Poorvanshi sat down like she owned the chair, dressed in modern business clothes, and completely ignored the stares.
Siddhant stopped typing. He slowly turned his head to look at her. His dark eyes scanned her outfit, the sharp trousers, the dark blouse, the lack of traditional jewelry or a red veil. His expression remained completely blank, but there was a sudden, sharp intensity in his gaze.
"Good morning," Poorvanshi said cheerfully to the terrified servant standing nearby. "Could I get some strong black coffee and a plain toast, please?"
"Y-yes, ma'am," the servant stuttered, rushing away.
"What is the meaning of this?" Nandini hissed, unable to control her anger. She glared at Poorvanshi’s clothes. "You are in the Chaturvedi house! You are supposed to be a new daughter-in-law! Where is your saree? Where is your sindoor? Have you no shame?"
Poorvanshi slowly turned her head to look at Nandini. She smiled, but it was a sharp, dangerous smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Mrs. Chaturvedi," Poorvanshi said, her voice dripping with polite sarcasm.
"Since your son did not bother to stay for the wedding rituals, I am technically not a daughter-in-law.
I am a guest. And as a guest, I will wear whatever I find comfortable.
If my clothes offend you, I suggest you look away. "
Someone down the table gasped audibly. Nandini’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her face turning bright red with rage. No one, absolutely no one, dared to speak to the matriarch of the house with such blatant disrespect.
Before Nandini could start screaming, Siddhant closed his laptop with a loud, sharp snap.
The sound was like a gunshot. The room instantly fell into a dead silence again.
Siddhant did not look at Nandini. He did not look at his father. He kept his dark, intense eyes completely fixed on Poorvanshi.
"My study. Five minutes," Siddhant ordered quietly. It was not a request.
He stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and walked out of the dining room without looking back.
Poorvanshi felt a spike of nervous adrenaline, but she refused to show it. She calmly took a sip of the water the servant had just poured, placed the glass down gracefully, and stood up. She ignored the hateful glares of the family and walked out of the room, following the path Siddhant had taken.
His study was located at the back of the house. It was a massive room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, smelling heavily of leather, expensive ink, and his sharp cedar cologne.
When she walked in, Siddhant was standing by the large window, looking out at the gardens. He had his hands in his pockets, his broad back facing her.
"Close the door," he commanded.
Poorvanshi closed the heavy oak door behind her. "I am not going to apologize to her," she said immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. "She insulted me first."
Siddhant turned around slowly. He leaned against the heavy mahogany desk, crossing his long legs at the ankles. He studied her face for a long, silent moment.
"I did not bring you in here to ask for an apology, Miss Rathore," Siddhant said smoothly. "I brought you in here to set the rules."
"Rules?" Poorvanshi scoffed, her temper flaring. "I am not one of your employees, Mr. Chaturvedi. And I am certainly not a prisoner. I will not follow your rules."
"You will," Siddhant stated simply, stating a fact rather than making a threat. "Because while you live under this roof, your actions reflect on my family name. And I protect my name above all else."