Chapter 30 The beautiful punishment
The beautiful punishment
DHRUV
“Are you really going to carry me everywhere?”
Her voice is breathless—not from the effort, because she isn’t making any, but from the way her body stiffens in my arms, from the awareness of proximity.
Sitara’s cheeks are flushed, that soft pink she gets when she’s flustered, and she refuses to meet my eyes.
Instead, she studies the collar of my kurta like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the palace.
“Yes, princess,” I say, meeting her gaze deliberately when she finally looks up. “I am.”
She frowns immediately, her eyebrows drawing together in that way I’ve learned means she’s about to say something that will make my blood pressure spike. “Why?” she asks. “I’m so heavy. Besides, I feel fine now.”
My steps falter.
Then I stop completely.
The corridor is quiet, sun peeks through the large windows bathing her in golden glow, I look down at her in my arms—at the way she’s tucked one hand awkwardly against my chest, like she doesn’t know what to do with it, at the way she’s trying very hard not to look at me. She looks so stunning.
“Three good things about yourself,” I say. Firm. Non-negotiable.
She blinks. “What?”
I lean in just enough that her breath brushes my neck, her scent—familiar now, grounding—wrapping around me. I lower my voice so only she can hear. “Say three good things about yourself, princess.”
Her eyes widen. I straighten before she can process the closeness, my arms tightening reflexively around her so she doesn’t shift. “I won’t move,” I add calmly, “if you don’t.”
Her mouth falls open. “This isn’t fair,” she exclaims. “This is basically kidnapping.”
I chuckle, unable to help myself. “I can kidnap my wife,” I say easily. “No one would suspect it.”
She rolls her eyes. “So I’m not safe.”
“Never were,” I smirk.
She exhales sharply, clearly annoyed, then mutters, “I… I like my non-existent jaw.”
The sarcasm is thick, defensive.
I shake my head, smiling genuinely. “Six good things now, princess.”
She gasps. “That’s— that’s very difficult!”
“Not for me,” I say quietly. “I could write a book for you.”
Her breathing quickens. Her cheeks darken to a deeper red, and she groans, burying her face briefly in her hands. “Dhruv,” she whines. “Please put me down, I must be—”
“Careful, princess.” I lean in again, noses almost touching, forcing her to keep her eyes on mine. “Your punishment might increase.”
“Dhruv,” she whispers.
Something in her voice makes me straighten immediately. I pull back, giving her space even while holding her, because last night made one thing painfully clear—she doesn’t feel what I feel, and I refuse to cross any line she hasn’t invited me to.
“Six good things, Sitara,” I say again, softer now, forcing a smile.
She sighs dramatically. “I… I like my fingers.” I hum encouragingly.
“I like my kindness.”
“I like how creative I am,” she adds quickly, then pauses. “And my imagination.”
I tilt my head. “Counting that as one, princess.”
“That’s not fair!” she protests.
“Everything’s fair in love and war.”
She huffs. “I like my lips.” I do too, my mind supplies unhelpfully. I bite it back, because that thought is dangerous territory.
“Do I really have to say six?” she whines. “Will four not work?”
“No, Sitara,” I say gently. “It won’t.”
She sighs. “I like my patience.” She makes a face. “I definitely have a lot of that with you.”
That makes me laugh, which makes her smile despite herself.
“And?” I prompt.
“I like my humor. It makes you laugh.”
Something in my chest thumps hard at that.
I stop walking again, just for a second, and raise an eyebrow at her. “Good. Now don’t ever talk shit about yourself again. Understood?”
She mocks a salute. “Yes, Maharaj.”
I laugh, finally moving toward the common room.
The moment we enter, Maa and Yagini are already seated, mid-conversation. A small shriek escapes Sitara’s mouth.
“Put me down now,” she scolds, mortified.
I do as I’m told, carefully setting her down beside Yagini, though I frown as soon as my arms are empty, confused by her reaction. I’d brought her here because she wanted to meet them, because she’d said she missed people, missed voices around her.
“No need to be shy,” Yagini chimes, grinning. “We already know you have Dhruv wrapped around your finger.”
Sitara turns a shade of red that genuinely concerns me.
Maa laughs softly. “No need to be embarrassed, Sitara,” she says warmly. “I’m glad my son is taking care of you.”
Her gaze flicks to me, soft, thoughtful. I know what she’s thinking. She never thought I’d marry. Never thought she’d see me like this—with someone, for someone.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I say quietly to Sitara, helping her settle properly. “Take care of her,” I warn Yagini.
She chuckles. “Don’t worry, bhai. Your wife is safe with us.”
I shake my head, stepping back, my eyes drawn inevitably to Sitara. She’s already looking at me, cheeks still pink, and she gives me a small, shy smile.
It warms something deep inside me. And as I walk out of the room, I think—maybe she doesn’t love me yet.
But I am glad I had the courage to be honest about my feelings with her and I am more glad that she’s here. And that fills me with hope I don’t know I should have.