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I sat silently in the car, the soft rumble of the engine the only sound as we drove through the streets. Sheraa was curled in my lap, purring gently as I scratched his ears. My eyes were fixed outside the window, but I could feel his gaze. Heavy. Constant.
Dattatriya hadn't stopped looking at me since we sat inside.
Finally, I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.
"What?" I asked, my tone sharp but tired.
He blinked, then gave a small smile, so out of place on his normally cold face.
"I just... I can't believe you're mine now," he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself.
I wanted to smile.
A part of me wanted to melt into his arms and pretend the last few weeks hadn't shattered me.
But the other part-the hurt, the betrayed part-tightened its hold.
"Then don't," I said coldly, turning my face away. "It's not like you wanted me. You made that very clear, remember?"
His smile faded instantly.
"Katha..." he began, voice rough.
I didn't let him finish.
"You pushed me away again and again. Made me feel like I wasn't enough.
Like loving me was a sin." My voice was calm, but the cracks beneath were too visible.
"Don't suddenly act like this means something to you now.
I know you married me out of guilt. Or pity.
Or maybe because the entire wedding crowd was watching. "
He stared at me, his jaw tightening.
"You really think that's why I married you?"
"What else then?" I asked, voice flat. "You had your chances, Dattatriya. All of them. And you kept choosing to let me go. I begged you. I cried. I asked you to fight. You didn't."
His hands clenched into fists on his lap.
"You think it was easy for me?" he snapped, his voice low and pained.
"You think I slept peacefully knowing I'd hurt you? That I didn't die a little every day watching you walk away?"
I looked at him now, really looked. His eyes were darker, tired, filled with something I couldn't place-regret, maybe. Guilt. Or worse... love.
"You didn't even try," I whispered, my voice finally cracking.
"You left me to walk into that mandap like I was someone else's responsibility. You didn't care."
He leaned closer, eyes burning into mine.
"I did care," he said. "Too much. That's the damn problem. I cared so much I thought you deserved better. I was scared... I would ruin you."
I let out a bitter chuckle.
"You still think that?"
He hesitated. Then slowly shook his head.
"No. Because now... you married me. And I'm going to spend every single day proving you didn't make a mistake."
I held his gaze for a second longer, but my expression stayed blank.
"Good," I said, leaning back into my seat.
"Because it'll take more than some sad words in a car to fix what you broke."
And just like that, silence returned.
Only this time, it wasn't cold.
It was the beginning of something dangerous.
Something real.
The black car rolled into the grand circular driveway of Dattatriya Agnivanshi's mansion-tall, sprawling, and intimidating, just like the man himself.
I stepped out, holding Sheraa close to my chest. The cool marble beneath my sandals contrasted with the simmering heat of everything I had gone through that day.
Dattatriya came to my side and gently offered his hand to help me down. I stared at it for a second, then accepted it silently. His grip was strong and steady, like he was trying to assure me something-perhaps, silently, trying to promise he wouldn't let go this time.
We walked towards the entrance together, but just before we could step in, he stopped.
"Stay here, Katha. Just a minute," he said softly and walked off toward one of the side rooms.
I frowned.
"Did your dad just put us in standby?" I asked Sheraa dryly, and my leopard cub growled lowly, clearly agreeing with my sarcasm.
Moments later, Dattatriya returned-but not empty-handed.
He held a beautifully decorated aarti thal, a silver bowl filled with red sindoor water, and a small rice-filled kalash.
I stared at him, surprised. And then he said, voice filled with reverence,
"My Lakshmi is entering my home... as my wife so she deserve the perfect entry."
He gently performed the aarti around me, his eyes never leaving my face. My throat tightened. No one had ever called me that. No one had ever looked at me like I was something sacred.
Then, he placed the kalash at the door.
I raised my leg and softly kicked it, watching the rice spill gently, as per tradition.
Then I stepped onto the red liquid plate and began walking inside, leaving my first footsteps in his mansion-my new home. Each red mark on the marble behind me felt like an imprint on fate itself.
He reached beside me again, and this time, carefully took Sheraa from my arms.
"I also have a son now," he said, smiling, and gently placed a small red tilak on Sheraa's furry head.
I blinked.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi-The Chief Minister of Rajasthan, ruler of the Italian Mafia, the man who barely ever smiled-was now softly laughing while holding a leopard cub.
For the first time, I saw joy in his eyes. Not cold calculation. Not torment.
I almost smiled back, almost... but I stopped myself.
No, Katha. Don't break. Don't forget what it took to get here.
He led me to the living room, where I sank onto the couch, exhausted. The heavy bridal saree, the emotional rollercoaster, the memories-it all weighed on me.
He didn't say anything.
I thought he'd go to his room or pick up a call, like he always did. But instead, he surprised me again.
He knelt on the floor in front of me.
Without a word, he lifted one of my legs. His touch was careful, hesitant.
I blinked.
"What are you doing, Datta?" I asked, trying to pull my foot back.
But he held it firmly.
"Let me do this." His voice was soft, but steady.
"For once... let me."
And then, he started wiping the red liquid from my feet with a soft cloth, his eyes fixated as though it was the most sacred thing he'd ever done.
"I finally got to touch my goddess's feet." He whispered those words like a prayer.
Something inside me clenched.
I stared at him, confused, shocked, vulnerable.
He didn't look up.
He just kept wiping the red from my feet like it was the only truth in his world.
And for the first time, I didn't know what to say.
I sat there silently, still watching him.
Dattatriya gently placed the cloth aside and sat beside me on the couch, maintaining just enough distance to respect my space.
The red marks on the floor were still vivid, and Sheraa had curled himself under the coffee table, tail twitching lightly.
The room was quiet, yet heavy with unspoken words.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the silence break me. Without a word, I picked up my phone, pretending to scroll casually.
But my fingers froze mid-swipe when I saw the breaking news notification flash across the screen.
?
"Are we seeing the formation of India's most dangerous couple?"
?
Below it, the comments section had already exploded.
· @Royalist_13: "He CHOSE her in front of everyone.
That's power. That's love. Respect."
· @QueenOfCourt: "Katha Choudhury finally married someone who matches her fire.
The country is not ready for this duo!"
· @SatyaLives: "First time I've seen Dattatriya look human. Maybe love really does exist???"
· @PoliticalPundit_69: "This is a strategic alliance.
Don't romanticize it. Mafia + Minister? Dangerous cocktail.
"
· @MoralHighway: "What a shameless display.
Replacing a groom like a toy. Disgusting.
"
· @TruthHurts: "Poor Gowtham.
Hope he's safe. This looks like a forced marriage to save face. "
My eyes narrowed.
Some comments made my blood boil. Others hit closer than I liked. I knew the world would spin this any way they wanted. But it was the look on Dattatriya's face-calm, composed, almost expectant-that made my skin prickle.
I slowly turned my head to him.
"Happy now? The world thinks you rescued me from shame."
My voice was sharp.
"But we both know you came to clean up a mess... not to love me."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
I tossed the phone onto the couch and crossed my arms.
"Let them talk," I muttered coldly.
"They don't know the truth. No one does. Except me... and Arya bhabhi."
And just for a second... a flicker of pride danced in my eyes. The country thought I was rescued.
They didn't know I orchestrated the entire fall.
I finally stepped into his room-and stopped.
It was beautiful. Dark wood panels, moody lighting, deep grey velvet curtains, and the softest rug I'd ever walked on. The walls were lined with books, antique weapons, and one massive painting that oddly looked like a storm trapped in a golden frame.
"Why does this room give me 50 Shades of Grey vibes?" I muttered under my breath and smirked, brushing the thought off as I walked toward the bathroom.
I took a long, much-needed shower. The hot water hit my back like relief. Washing away the weight of the day... of the wedding... of the days I spent waiting for a man who kept pushing me away.
Now I was in his house. His wife.
After drying off, I walked into the massive walk-in closet. A small smile formed when I saw my suitcase already there, perfectly placed beside his tailored clothes. Armani. Hugo Boss. Custom-made Indian pieces. All lined up like a man who lived by routine, control, and silence.
I spotted a black shirt-slightly oversized-and my fingers brushed over it. "Why not?" I whispered and pulled it out, slipping into it.
"Damn. This shirt just swallowed me."
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked... effortless. Soft. A contrast to the hurricane I'd been all day.
"I wonder how he'd react seeing me in this." I thought, imagining his unreadable eyes widening just a little. Maybe the corner of his lips twitching. Maybe something more.
But when I stepped out... the room was empty.
He wasn't there.
"Hmph. Typical." I sighed, trying not to be disappointed.
Sheraa had made himself comfortable on the large velvet sofa, his head resting lazily over the edge, one paw dangling like royalty.
I walked over to the bed and lay down. The silk sheets were too smooth, almost like I'd melt right into them.
"At least this bed is loyal," I whispered, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
As my eyes started to close, the scent of him from the shirt lingered-warm, expensive, masculine... dangerously familiar.
I didn't know if I wanted to strangle him or kiss him.
Probably both. Damn I'm getting wild.
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