3:00 AM

Shekhawat Residence

The enormous iron gates of the Shekhawat mansion slowly opened with a soft metallic creak.

Outside, the night was quiet and still, the city of Jaipur resting under the dark velvet sky. But inside the Shekhawat residence, lights still glowed warmly.

Rows of golden fairy lights shimmered along the walls of the sprawling haveli. Fresh marigold garlands decorated the entrance pillars, their sweet fragrance mixing with the faint scent of incense that floated through the air.

Tonight was special.

Tonight the Shekhawat family was welcoming their new daughter-in-law.

At the grand entrance stood Rajeshwari Devi, holding a beautifully decorated silver aarti thali. The diya flame flickered gently in the quiet air, illuminating her calm yet emotional face.

Beside her stood Thakur Amar Singh Shekhawat, tall and dignified as always. His sharp eyes softened slightly tonight.

Behind them stood the entire family.

Vikram and Meera stood together, pride and warmth reflecting in their expressions.

Arjun leaned casually beside his wife Sunita, both watching the scene with affectionate smiles.

Near the staircase, the younger cousins tried their best to stay awake.

Ishita clutched Ayaan’s arm excitedly.

“Finally bhabhi is coming,” she whispered.

Ayaan nodded eagerly.

“I'm definitely winning the ring game for bhaiya.”

“You're not even playing!” Ishita whispered.

“I’m supporting,” he said dramatically.

Soft laughter rippled among them.

Outside, a black luxury car stopped at the entrance.

The driver quickly opened the door.

Neel stepped out first.

Dressed in his ivory sherwani, he looked calm and composed as always. His posture straight, his expression controlled.

Yet tonight, something about him seemed different.

Maybe softer.

Maybe thoughtful.

He turned back toward the car.

Then extended his hand.

A delicate hand slowly emerged from the car.

Priyal.

The new bride.

Her red bridal lehenga shimmered under the golden lights. Heavy jewelry adorned her neck and ears, and the delicate red veil rested gracefully over her head.

She stepped out slowly.

Her bangles chimed softly with each movement.

For a moment she simply stood there.

Looking at the massive haveli.

This was now her home.

Just a few hours ago she had come to the wedding as a guest.

Nothing more.

But destiny had rewritten everything.

The bride had walked away from the mandap.

The sacred fire had waited.

The family had faced humiliation.

And somehow…

Priyal had stepped forward.

Now she stood here as Mrs. Priyal Neel Shekhawat.

The thought still felt unreal.

A small breath escaped her lips.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her dupatta.

Just then she heard Neel’s calm voice beside her.

“Don't look so nervous.”

She glanced sideways.

He was watching the mansion, not her.

But his voice softened slightly.

“They’re not monsters.”

Priyal almost laughed.

Almost.

The tension in her chest loosened a little.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

Together they walked toward the entrance.

The moment they reached the threshold, Rajeshwari Devi stepped forward with a warm smile.

“My children have returned,” she said softly.

She lifted the aarti thali and began circling it gently before them.

The flame danced in the air as the family watched.

Meera’s eyes lingered lovingly on Priyal.

Sunita whispered to Arjun,

“She looks so graceful.”

Arjun nodded.

“Perfect for our Neel.”

After the aarti, Rajeshwari Devi placed a small tilak on their foreheads.

Then she stepped aside.

In front of the doorway sat a silver kalash filled with rice, decorated with red threads and turmeric.

Beside it was a shallow plate containing milk mixed with alta, glowing crimson under the lights.

Rajeshwari Devi smiled gently.

“Priyal beta, this is your grihapravesh.”

Her voice carried warmth.

“You must gently tip the kalash and step inside.”

Priyal nodded respectfully.

Her heart began beating faster again.

Everyone was watching.

She carefully stepped forward.

The heavy bridal lehenga brushed softly across the marble floor.

She raised her right foot slightly to nudge the kalash.

But as she lifted her foot, the hem of her lehenga caught beneath her foot.

Her balance wavered.

Just a little.

A tiny stumble.

Before anyone else could react—

Neel moved.

He extended his hand instantly toward her.

Not grabbing.

Not pulling.

Just offering support.

His palm hovered steadily in front of her.

Priyal looked up at him.

Their eyes met briefly.

There was no embarrassment in his expression.

Only calm reassurance.

She slowly placed her fingers in his hand.

For a moment their hands touched.

Warm.

Steady.

The contact lasted only seconds.

Then Priyal regained balance.

She gently nudged the kalash.

The pot rolled forward across the floor.

Rice spilled out like scattered pearls across the marble.

Rajeshwari Devi smiled brightly.

“Shubh!”

The family clapped softly.

Priyal then stepped into the plate of milk and alta.

The cool liquid touched her feet.

She took her first step inside.

A delicate red footprint appeared on the marble.

Then another.

And another.

Each step left a crimson imprint behind her.

The symbol of Lakshmi entering the house.

Meera whispered emotionally,

“Our house finally has a daughter.”

Sunita nodded warmly.

Priyal slowly reached the center of the entrance hall.

Just then Ayaan clapped loudly.

“Now the fun part!”

Everyone laughed.

Sunita brought forward a large silver bowl filled with milk and rose petals.

Somewhere inside it lay a small golden ring.

She placed the bowl between Neel and Priyal.

“This ritual decides who rules the marriage,” she announced dramatically.

Ayaan grinned.

“Obviously bhaiya will win.”

Ishita crossed her arms.

“No chance. Bhabhi will win.”

Priyal looked embarrassed.

Neel looked amused.

Rajeshwari Devi chuckled.

“Three rounds.”

Sunita nodded.

“Ready?”

Neel dipped his hand into the bowl first.

Priyal followed hesitantly.

Their fingers brushed briefly beneath the milky surface.

Priyal quickly looked away.

Inside the bowl their hands searched among petals.

Suddenly—

Neel found the ring.

But instead of pulling it out, he glanced toward Priyal.

She was still searching earnestly.

Without anyone noticing, he slipped the ring into her palm.

Priyal froze.

Her eyes widened beneath the veil.

Neel leaned back calmly.

Priyal quickly lifted her hand.

“I found it!”

Ishita squealed.

“Bhabhi wins!”

Ayaan groaned dramatically.

“Impossible!”

Laughter filled the hall.

Round two began.

Again both dipped their hands.

And again—

Neel found the ring first.

Again he quietly passed it to her.

Priyal stared at him in disbelief.

But she raised the ring again.

“I found it.”

The family cheered louder.

“Two times!”

Sunita narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Neel.

But he simply shrugged casually.

Now came the third round.

Everyone leaned forward.

Even Amar Singh watched with quiet amusement.

Their hands disappeared into the bowl again.

Petals floated around their fingers.

Neel’s hand brushed against hers.

Then—

He found the ring.

Once again he slipped it into her palm.

This time Priyal looked directly at him.

Under the surface of the milk their hands met.

His expression was calm.

But there was something gentle in it.

Something reassuring.

Priyal lifted the ring.

“I won again.”

Ishita jumped happily.

“Three times!”

Ayaan dramatically held his head.

“Bhaiya lost everything.”

Neel leaned back casually.

“I’m fine with that.”

Everyone laughed.

But Priyal noticed something sincere in his voice.

He truly didn't mind.

Rajeshwari Devi stepped forward.

She gently cupped Priyal’s face.

“Welcome home, beta.”

The words struck deep.

Priyal’s throat tightened.

She had entered this house without her parents.

Without family.

Yet somehow…

She didn’t feel alone.

Meera hugged her warmly.

Sunita smiled.

Even Amar Singh nodded with approval.

And beside her stood Neel.

Calm.

Steady.

Unexpectedly kind.

As the family continued laughing and talking, Neel leaned slightly toward her.

His voice was quiet.

“So…”

Priyal glanced at him.

“You’re ruling the marriage now.”

Priyal smiled shyly.

“Only because you cheated.”

For the first time that night—

Neel smiled slightly.

It was not a wide smile.

Not even close.

But it was enough to soften the sharp edges of his usually composed face.

Priyal noticed it immediately.

For a brief second, the tension that had surrounded them since the unexpected wedding seemed to ease. The teasing laughter of the family filled the hall again, and the awkwardness between them melted into something lighter.

Before Priyal could say anything, Sunita chachi clapped her hands loudly.

“Alright, enough games. The bride must be exhausted.”

Meera nodded in agreement.

“Yes, she has been awake since yesterday morning.”

Priyal opened her mouth to protest politely, but before she could speak, Ishita jumped in excitedly.

“Perfect! Then I’ll take bhabhi to bhaiya’s room.”

The entire hall burst into amused laughter.

Priyal felt the heat rush to her cheeks instantly.

“Ishita!” Meera scolded lightly.

“What?” Ishita shrugged dramatically. “It’s true.”

Ayaan leaned toward Neel with a mischievous grin.

“Bhaiya, good luck.”

Neel gave him a calm look.

“Sleep before I make you run ten laps tomorrow morning.”

Ayaan immediately backed away.

“Good night, bhaiya.”

Laughter erupted again.

Rajeshwari Devi smiled lovingly at Priyal and gently held her hands.

“Go rest, beta. It has been a very long day for you.”

Priyal nodded respectfully.

“Yes, dadi.”

Ishita quickly slipped her arm through Priyal’s and started pulling her toward the staircase.

“Come, bhabhi.”

Priyal glanced once toward Neel.

He was still standing with the rest of the family, calm and composed.

For some reason, seeing him there made her feel slightly reassured.

Ishita noticed her hesitation and whispered playfully,

“Don’t worry. Bhaiya won’t eat you.”

Priyal nearly laughed.

They climbed the wide marble staircase together.

The mansion felt quieter on the upper floor. Most of the lights were dimmed now, and the hallway was peaceful.

Ishita stopped in front of a large wooden door at the end of the corridor.

She pushed it open with dramatic flair.

“Welcome,” she declared proudly, “to the most boring room in the entire house.”

Priyal stepped inside slowly.

The room was spacious, elegant, and minimal.

A large king-sized bed stood in the center, covered in white silk sheets and decorated with light flower petals. Soft lamps cast a warm golden glow across the walls.

Floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened into a balcony overlooking the garden.

The night air drifted inside gently.

Priyal looked around quietly.

“This is… beautiful,” she murmured.

Ishita shrugged.

“Bhaiya barely spends time here. He’s always working.”

Then she turned toward Priyal with a teasing smile.

“But tonight might be different.”

Priyal’s face turned pink again.

Ishita laughed.

“Relax, bhabhi. I’m just teasing.”

She walked around the room, fixing a few cushions and adjusting the curtains.

Then she guided Priyal toward the bed.

“You sit here.”

Priyal obeyed, sitting carefully at the edge of the mattress, still wrapped in her heavy bridal lehenga.

Ishita stepped back and admired the scene.

“Perfect.”

Priyal looked confused.

“Perfect for what?”

Ishita raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“For the first night, obviously.”

Priyal immediately looked down, embarrassed.

Ishita burst out laughing.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Her voice softened slightly.

“Bhabhi… don’t be nervous.”

Priyal hesitated.

“I’m not nervous.”

Ishita crossed her arms.

“You’re lying.”

Priyal sighed quietly.

Maybe she was right.

Everything had happened so fast.

Just yesterday she had attended the wedding as a guest.

And now she was sitting in the groom’s bedroom as his wife.

Life had changed within hours.

Ishita gently squeezed her hand.

“Bhaiya may look strict, but he’s actually very kind.”

Priyal looked up.

“He just doesn’t show it easily.”

Priyal nodded slowly.

Ishita smiled warmly.

“Anyway, my work here is done.”

She walked toward the door.

Then suddenly turned back.

“Oh, and bhabhi…”

Priyal looked at her.

“If bhaiya irritates you too much, just tell me. I’ll handle him.”

Priyal laughed softly for the first time that night.

“I’ll remember that.”

Ishita winked.

“Good night, bhabhi.”

The door closed gently behind her.

Silence settled across the room.

For the first time since the wedding chaos began, Priyal was completely alone.

She exhaled slowly.

Her shoulders finally relaxed.

Then she looked down at her bridal lehenga.

It felt impossibly heavy now.

“How do brides even breathe in this?” she murmured to herself.

Carefully she stood up and walked toward the dressing table.

The mirror reflected her tired but calm face.

One by one, she began removing the jewelry.

First the large necklace.

Then the earrings.

Then the bangles that covered almost half her arms.

The soft sound of metal clinking echoed in the quiet room.

Next came the dozens of tiny hairpins holding her elaborate bridal hairstyle.

She started removing them carefully.

Her long hair slowly fell loose down her back.

Just then—

The bedroom door opened.

Priyal froze.

Neel stepped inside.

For a moment both of them stood still.

Priyal held a hairpin in her hand.

Neel paused near the door.

The atmosphere instantly grew awkward.

He cleared his throat slightly.

“You can continue.”

Priyal nodded quickly and turned back toward the mirror.

Neel walked past her calmly and picked up a set of clothes from the wardrobe.

“I’ll change.”

Then he disappeared into the washroom.

Priyal let out a quiet breath.

Her heart had suddenly begun beating faster.

She finished removing the rest of the pins quickly.

A few minutes later, the washroom door opened again.

Neel stepped out wearing a simple dark T-shirt and loose trousers.

He looked far more relaxed now.

Priyal had also changed into a light comfortable suit.

For a few seconds neither of them spoke.

Then Priyal quietly walked toward the balcony.

The cool air touched her face the moment she stepped outside.

The garden lights below glowed softly.

She rested her hands on the railing.

Her thoughts were racing.

Marriage.

A new house.

A new life.

Everything felt unreal.

Five minutes passed.

Then the balcony door slid open.

Neel stepped outside.

He stood beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them.

They watched the silent night together.

After a moment Neel spoke.

“You should rest.”

Priyal glanced at him.

“After today?”

Neel nodded slightly.

“Fair.”

The breeze moved gently through the balcony.

Priyal hesitated before speaking again.

“Thank you.”

Neel looked at her.

“For what?”

“For helping me during the ritual.”

Neel shrugged lightly.

“You were about to fall.”

Priyal smiled faintly.

“That still counts.”

He didn’t argue.

Another quiet moment passed between them.

Then Neel said calmly,

“We should go inside.”

They returned to the room.

The balcony doors slid shut softly behind them.

The room felt quieter now.

Almost too quiet.

Priyal moved toward the bed and sat down at its edge, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The long day—no, the long night—was finally beginning to settle on her shoulders.

Neel, however, did not sit.

He walked toward the small writing desk placed near the wall.

For a few seconds he simply stood there, staring at something in his hand.

The same brown envelope his father had given him earlier.

Priyal noticed it.

Her brows knitted slightly.

Neel seemed unusually serious now.

A few moments passed before he turned around.

“Priyal.”

His voice was calm, but there was something heavier behind it.

She looked up.

“Yes?”

Neel walked toward her slowly and placed the envelope on the small table between them.

“We need to talk.”

Priyal blinked in confusion.

“At four in the morning?”

Neel did not smile.

“This couldn’t wait.”

Something about his tone made her sit up straighter.

Neel opened the envelope and pulled out a set of papers.

Then he held them out to her.

“Read this.”

Priyal accepted the papers slowly.

Her eyes moved across the first page.

For a moment she didn’t understand what she was looking at.

Then the words began to register.

Her expression changed instantly.

Her eyes moved over the title again.

Marriage Agreement.

She looked up at him.

“What is this?”

Neel’s voice remained steady.

“A contract.”

Priyal frowned.

“A contract for what?”

Neel met her gaze directly.

“For this marriage.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Heavy.

Priyal blinked as if she had heard something wrong.

“What?”

Neel didn’t repeat himself.

Priyal quickly looked back at the papers.

Her eyes moved rapidly through the clauses written neatly across the page.

Each sentence made her expression harder.

Then she stopped reading.

Slowly, she looked up again.

“This says…”

Her voice faltered for a moment.

“This says our marriage is valid only for six months.”

Neel nodded once.

“Yes.”

The room fell silent again.

Priyal stared at him as if trying to understand whether he was serious.

Then suddenly she laughed.

Not out of amusement.

But disbelief.

“Very funny.”

Neel didn’t react.

Priyal stood up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

The single word landed heavily in the air.

Priyal’s laughter faded immediately.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

Priyal stared at him.

“Neel… we just got married.”

“I know.”

“In front of your entire family.”

“I know that too.”

“And now you’re telling me this is just… temporary?”

“Yes.”

Her voice rose slightly.

“You expect me to believe that?”

Neel sighed quietly.

“It was necessary.”

“Necessary?” Priyal repeated incredulously.

“Yes.”

She waved the papers slightly.

“This says after six months we will get divorced.”

“That’s correct.”

Priyal shook her head slowly.

“This is insane.”

Neel’s expression remained calm, though there was tension in his shoulders.

“You remember what happened tonight.”

Priyal didn’t answer.

“The bride left the wedding,” he continued.

“Our families were there. Hundreds of guests were there.”

Priyal’s jaw tightened.

“Yes, I remember.”

“If the wedding had been canceled,” Neel said quietly, “the humiliation would have followed my family forever.”

Priyal crossed her arms.

“So your solution was to marry the nearest available girl?”

Neel didn’t deny it.

“The situation needed to be controlled.”

Priyal laughed bitterly.

“And you controlled it by turning marriage into a business deal?”

Neel’s eyes darkened slightly.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” Priyal said sharply.

Neel remained silent for a moment.

Then he spoke slowly.

“This contract protects both of us.”

Priyal scoffed.

“Protects?”

“Yes.”

He gestured toward the papers.

“You will live here with full respect.”

“No one in this house will ever treat you as anything less than the daughter-in-law of this family.”

Priyal’s voice became colder.

“And after six months?”

“We go our separate ways.”

The words hung in the air.

Neel continued.

“The divorce will be handled quietly.”

“No drama.”

“No scandal.”

Priyal stared at him.

“And you think I’ll just agree to that?”

Neel’s tone softened slightly.

“You’ll receive everything you need during these six months.”

Priyal interrupted immediately.

“I don’t need your money.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you offering alimony?”

“Because it’s part of the agreement.”

Priyal looked down at the papers again.

Her fingers tightened around them.

“So basically…” she said slowly, “I’m your temporary wife.”

Neel didn’t answer.

“That’s what this is, right?”

A long pause filled the room.

Finally he spoke.

“Yes.”

Priyal let out a sharp breath.

“You should have told me before the wedding.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

Neel looked away briefly before speaking again.

“I didn’t plan for this either.”

Priyal watched him carefully.

“And yet you had a contract ready.”

“My father had it prepared.”

“So you just agreed?”

Neel’s jaw tightened slightly.

“There were circumstances.”

Priyal’s voice softened slightly but remained firm.

“You still had a choice.”

Neel finally looked directly at her again.

“No.”

Priyal frowned.

“No?”

“I didn’t.”

Silence fell between them again.

After a moment Neel spoke in a calmer voice.

“I will respect you.”

Priyal didn’t respond.

“You will have complete freedom here.”

“No restrictions.”

“No interference.”

Priyal slowly sat back down on the bed.

Her mind was still processing everything.

Then Neel added one more sentence.

“But I won’t give you something I don’t have.”

Priyal looked up.

“My love.”

The words were calm.

Clear.

“I will never love you.”

The bluntness of the statement made the room feel colder.

Priyal didn’t react immediately.

Neel continued quietly.

“And after six months, our paths will separate.”

“You’ll live your life.”

“I’ll live mine.”

Priyal stared at the papers in her hands.

Her voice came out softer this time.

“So… all of this…”

She gestured around the room.

“The wedding. The rituals. The blessings.”

“They were all just part of the contract?”

Neel didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said quietly,

“They were necessary.”

Priyal leaned back slightly, letting out a long breath.

“I thought I was getting married tonight.”

Neel didn’t say anything.

Priyal looked at him again.

“And instead… I got a six-month agreement.”

Neel’s expression remained unreadable.

He placed a pen on the table beside her.

“You don’t have to sign it right now.”

Priyal raised an eyebrow.

“You’re giving me time?”

“Yes.”

“How generous.”

Neel ignored the sarcasm.

“Take a few days if you want.”

Priyal studied him carefully.

Then she asked quietly,

“Tell me something honestly.”

Neel waited.

“If Aishwarya hadn’t run away… would you have married her happily?”

For the first time, Neel hesitated.

Just slightly.

Then he answered.

“Yes.”

Priyal nodded slowly.

“Good to know.”

She placed the papers back on the table.

Neither of them spoke after that.

Outside the balcony, the first faint rays of dawn were beginning to color the sky.

Inside the room…

Two strangers sat in silence.

Bound together by a marriage.

Divided by a contract.

And neither of them realized yet—

That the next six months would change everything about their lives.

Next Morning

8:00 am

Morning arrived softly, but not gently.

The pale gold sunlight had only just begun slipping through the carved edges of the curtains when Priyal was pulled out of her sleep by a light but hurried knock on the bedroom door.

Still wrapped in the heaviness of an unfamiliar night, she sat up slowly on the bed. For a brief second, her eyes moved instinctively to the other side of the room.

Empty.

Neel was already gone.

Her fingers tightened over the bedsheet for the smallest moment.

The memory of the previous night rose again like a bitter taste she had not managed to wash away.

The contract papers.

The clipped coldness in his voice.

The way he had placed six months between them like a wall that had already been built before she had even stepped into the marriage.

She inhaled slowly, pushing it down somewhere deep where it could not ruin the morning. Then she rose from the bed, adjusted her dupatta over her shoulder, and walked to the door.

The moment she opened it, Ishita stood there with a bright smile and a neatly folded saree in her hands.

It was a deep bridal red, soft and rich, with delicate embroidery blooming over it like scattered flowers touched by gold and muted pink. The border shimmered under the morning light, elegant and graceful, and for a second Priyal simply stared at it.

“This is for you,” Ishita said warmly, placing it in her hands. “Get ready quickly and come downstairs. It’s your pehli rasoi today.”

Priyal blinked, then nodded softly. “Now?”

Ishita laughed. “Yes, now, bhabhi. Everyone is waiting downstairs. And don’t take too long, otherwise Dadi will start complaining that the new bride loves sleeping too much.”

That earned a small smile from Priyal.

Ishita leaned closer and lowered her voice dramatically. “And please look extra pretty. It helps in emotional blackmail when serving sweets.”

For the first time that morning, Priyal let out a quiet laugh.

Ishita grinned, satisfied with that little victory, then turned and hurried away downstairs.

Priyal closed the door again and stood still for a moment, the saree resting in her arms.

It was beautiful.

Beautiful in a way that felt dangerously intimate for someone who had not yet found steady ground in this house.

Still, ritual was ritual.

She gathered fresh clothes and went to bathe.

By the time she returned, the room had filled with the clean fragrance of sandalwood soap and the faint scent of wet hair. She stood before the mirror, draping the saree carefully around herself. The fabric fell beautifully, graceful and expensive, hugging her with an elegance that made her look every bit the bride this house expected her to be.

She pleated the pallu twice before she was finally satisfied, adjusted the waist, and then reached behind herself to tie the blouse dori.

Her fingers paused.

Then fumbled.

The string slipped again.

She tried once more, lifting her hair over one shoulder, twisting awkwardly to see behind her, but the dori only tangled further.

A tiny breath of frustration escaped her lips.

“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. “Perfect timing.”

She tried again.

And failed again.

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

Priyal froze.

Neel stepped in, already dressed for the morning in a crisp kurta, one hand still holding his phone. He stopped the second he noticed her standing before the mirror, saree wrapped perfectly around her except for the untied blouse strings resting against her back.

For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.

Priyal’s fingers instinctively went to her shoulder, clutching the edge of her saree more tightly.

Neel looked away almost immediately, his jaw tightening as if he had walked into a thought he had no right to see. “I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s fine,” Priyal said quickly, though her voice came softer than she intended.

He gave a brief nod and turned slightly as if to walk out again and give her privacy.

But Priyal looked at the mirror, then at the hopeless dori, then at him.

The silence stretched.

Her throat felt dry.

This was ridiculous. She was not a child. And yet the knot was impossible to reach properly.

Finally, after what felt like the longest hesitation of her life, she spoke very quietly.

“Can you… tie it?”

Neel turned.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

There was no teasing in her face. No drama. Only discomfort, hesitation, and a faint embarrassment she was trying very hard to hide.

For a second, he said nothing.

Then he placed his phone on the table and walked toward her in measured steps.

Priyal turned slightly, lifting her hair away from her back with trembling fingers.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Much smaller.

Neel stopped just behind her.

Neither of them spoke.

He reached for the loose strings carefully, but the moment his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back, Priyal’s breath caught.

Not loudly.

Just enough.

Enough for both of them to hear it.

Neel’s hands stilled for half a second.

Then he resumed, slower this time.

The touch was brief, respectful, practical even—but something about the closeness made it anything but ordinary.

Priyal stared at herself in the mirror, not really seeing her reflection anymore.

She was aware only of him.

Of the nearness.

Of the faint scent of his perfume.

Of the warmth of his fingers when they accidentally brushed her skin again while straightening the knot.

Of the strange silence between them that did not feel empty at all.

Neel’s eyes remained fixed on the task, but once—just once—his gaze flickered upward in the mirror.

And found hers.

Priyal immediately looked down.

Her grip on her hair tightened.

He tied the dori neatly, then adjusted the second knot below it with surprising gentleness.

“There,” he said at last, his voice lower than usual. “It’s done. And one more thing that...you look beautifully mine baby girl ”

For some reason, Priyal could not answer immediately.

She only lowered her head.

Neel stepped back at once, as if putting proper distance between them was the first sensible thing either of them had done that morning.

Priyal lowered her hair slowly over her shoulder again and touched the tied dori with her fingertips, checking it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Neel picked up his phone again without looking at her directly. “You should come downstairs soon. Everyone’s waiting.”

And with that, he walked out.

The door closed behind him.

Priyal remained standing there for several seconds.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror once more.

Her cheeks were flushed.

And no matter how much she tried to deny it, her heart had started beating in a way that had nothing to do with nervousness alone.

She pressed her lips together and quickly put on the rest of her jewellery—light bangles, earrings, a simple necklace—and finally made her way downstairs.

The moment she began descending from the staircase, the living room, alive with morning movement, seemed to slow in her eyes.

The family was gathered there already.

Voices.

Laughter.

The clinking of cups.

Ishita saying something dramatic to Dadi.

Someone asking for more tea.

And there, near the center of it all, stood Neel.

He looked up absentmindedly at first.

Then properly.

And stopped.

His gaze lifted to her—and stayed there.

For a moment, he forgot to look away.

Priyal in the deep red saree looked nothing less than breathtaking. The soft folds of the fabric, the delicate embroidery, the damp strands of hair resting near her cheek, the quiet grace with which she descended the stairs—everything about her seemed to catch the light and hold it.

There was no bridal heaviness in her this morning.

Only elegance.

Only softness.

Only something so effortlessly beautiful that Neel found himself staring before he could stop himself.

Ishita noticed it first.

Of course she did.

Her lips immediately curved into a mischievous smile.

“Bhai,” she said loudly, dragging the word just enough to snap him back into reality, “the stairs are not going anywhere. You can stop staring.”

Neel looked away at once, expression flattening in practiced control.

Priyal lowered her gaze, but not before the faintest blush rose to her cheeks.

Dadi chuckled.

“Let him stare,” she said. “His wife is beautiful.”

Ishita grinned. “Exactly.”

Neel muttered, “No one asked for commentary this early in the morning.”

That only made everyone laugh harder.

Priyal finally reached the bottom of the stairs, and before she could grow any more conscious under so many eyes, Ishita came and pulled her toward the kitchen.

“Come quickly,” she said. “Before they all start behaving like emotional poets.”

Priyal smiled despite herself and followed her.

The kitchen was already arranged for the ritual.

Ingredients had been placed neatly on the counter. Ghee, sugar, dry fruits, cardamom, semolina—all waiting.

Ishita explained everything with unnecessary seriousness, as though briefing someone before an exam. Priyal listened carefully, then tied her pallu slightly tighter and began.

At first, her hands were steady only because she forced them to be.

But soon the familiarity of cooking settled her.

The pan warmed.

The ghee melted.

The semolina turned fragrant under her patient stirring.

The kitchen slowly filled with the rich scent of roasted suji, cardamom, and sweetness.

For nearly an hour, she stood there, carefully making the halwa, refusing help except when absolutely needed. A little sweat formed near her temple, and the edge of her saree slipped once, but she fixed it quietly and kept going.

By the time the halwa was done, it looked warm, glossy, and inviting.

Ishita dipped a spoon in first, tasted it dramatically, then widened her eyes. “Oh.”

Priyal tensed immediately. “What happened?”

Ishita looked at her with fake seriousness.

Then broke into a grin. “You’re dangerous. This is actually very good.”

Priyal let out a helpless laugh of relief.

Soon, the bowls were arranged and taken out into the living room where the family waited eagerly.

Priyal served each person respectfully, moving one by one.

Dadi took the first bite and smiled with visible satisfaction. “Very nice.”

Sunita chachi nodded. “It’s made with a good hand.”

Vikram said, “Perfect sweetness.”

Another voice followed, “Our new bride cooks well too.”

Bit by bit, the praise began surrounding her.

Priyal lowered her gaze modestly, but inside, something warm began to bloom. Not pride exactly. More like relief. The kind that comes when one survives the first test in a new home.

Then came the voice that sliced through the softness.

Kavita Bua.

She placed her spoon down with a small clink and sniffed in clear disapproval.

“It’s decent,” she said, drawing the word out unpleasantly. “But it could have been much better. Halwa should have more richness than this. These days girls dress well, smile well, and everyone starts praising them for anything.”

The room quieted.

Just like that.

The warmth dimmed.

Priyal’s fingers tightened around the serving bowl in her hand.

Ishita looked irritated immediately. Dadi’s face fell. A few others exchanged uncomfortable glances.

And Neel—

Neel put his spoon down.

The sound was sharper than it should have been.

He looked directly at Kavita Bua, his expression turning cold in an instant.

“If you want to eat, then eat,” he said, voice calm but edged like a blade. “And if you don’t, then go to hell.”

The entire room froze.

Kavita Bua stared at him in outrage. “Neel!”

But he did not stop.

“No one asked for your unnecessary criticism,” he continued in the same ruthless tone. “The halwa is good. Everyone knows it. So either sit quietly or stop ruining every moment just because peace gives you discomfort.”

“Mind your language!” she snapped.

“You mind yours first,” he replied without missing a beat.

Priyal stood stunned.

She had expected politeness at most. Indifference perhaps.

Not this.

Not him cutting someone down for her in front of the entire family without the slightest hesitation.

Kavita Bua looked scandalized. “This is how you speak to your bua?”

Neel’s eyes did not soften at all.

“This is how I speak to anyone who insults MY WIFE for no reason.”

The words landed heavily in the room.

MY WIFE.

Something shifted in the air after that.

Kavita Bua opened her mouth again, but before she could continue, Priyal quickly stepped in.

“Please,” she said softly, placing the bowl down and looking at Neel. “Don’t say anything more.”

Neel turned to her.

For a moment, the harshness in his face eased only slightly.

Priyal gave the smallest shake of her head.

Not because Kavita Bua deserved protection.

But because she did not want the morning to become uglier than it already had.

Neel inhaled once, slowly, then looked back at Kavita Bua with a warning still clear in his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m saying it once and clearly. If Bua tries to insult Priyal again, then I will forget she is my bua.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

No one dared interrupt.

Kavita Bua’s face changed color with offense, but for the first time perhaps, she had no immediate reply.

Because Neel was not bluffing.

Everyone in that room knew it.

And Priyal knew it too.

She looked at him quietly, her heart tightening in a way she had not expected.

Last night, he had placed a contract between them.

This morning, he had stood before the whole family and defended her with a fierceness that did not feel fake at all.

That contradiction unsettled her more than cruelty would have.

Because cruelty was simple.

Distance was simple.

But this—

This care wrapped in denial, this anger in her defense, this instinctive protectiveness despite all his words—

this was dangerous.

Ishita, sensing the tension had gone on long enough, quickly clapped her hands and said, “Alright, enough. We are not turning halwa into a battlefield. Priyal bhabhi made the first sweet in this house and it is delicious. That is the official truth.”

Dadi immediately supported her. “Yes. Exactly.”

Others nodded, eager to restore peace.

Conversation slowly began again, though softer now.

Kavita Bua did not say another word.

Priyal moved quietly to serve the remaining bowls, but her hands were no longer steady for the same reason as before.

Now every few seconds, she could feel Neel’s words echoing in her head.

"If Bua tries to insult Priyal again, then I will forget she is my bua."

She should not have cared.

She really should not have.

Not after last night.

Not after those six months folded into dry legal papers.

And yet when she passed near him with the tray, Neel looked up once.

Their eyes met.

There was no apology there.

No softness either.

Only a strange, unreadable steadiness.

As if he was telling her without words—

No one gets to humiliate you in front of me.

Priyal looked away first.

But not before her pulse stumbled again.

The ritual eventually ended, blessings were given, sweets were finished, and the family slowly began to scatter into smaller conversations.

Yet that morning remained suspended in Priyal’s heart long after.

That's it for today. And seriously if anyone gets married in a family having member like Kavita bua i hope that they'll get a Neel always by their side and even a man who takes stand for his wife without hesitating is a true blessing.

Whatever this was a part of the chapter. And also share your thoughts about this chapter and also share your thoughts on the parts which need more attention.

Word count - 6396

Take care

Bye. Author 🤍.