Eternal Bond:In Love With My Bride ( Under Editing)

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Author POV:

In one of the most luxurious apartments in Mumbai, the morning sun found a narrow slit in the drawn curtains of the balcony doors.

The heavy, opulent fabric, designed to keep out the city's hustle, couldn't entirely block the persistent sun.

A single, sharp ray of sunlight pierced through the gap, slicing through the dim room with surgical precision, landing directly on the face of Ekansh Rathore as he slept.

The soft linens of his king-sized bed cradled him in comfort, but the intrusive beam of light forced him to stir.

Irritated, Ekansh turned away from the light, his face burrowing deeper into the plush, goose-down pillow in a futile attempt to reclaim the last remnants of sleep.

The high-thread-count sheets, cool against his skin, were a stark contrast to the warm, insistent sunlight.

Minutes later, the persistent ringing of his phone shattered the fragile silence of the morning.

The phone, a sleek, latest-model smartphone, vibrated insistently on the elegant mahogany bedside table.

His hand, emerging from beneath the plush pillow, groped for the phone with a languid, practiced motion.

With a groggy swipe, he silenced the call, only to have the phone ring again almost immediately.

Frustration flared in his half-closed eyes as he grabbed the device, the cool, smooth surface of the phone a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand.

He growled into it, his voice rough and deep with sleep.

"Who is it?" he snapped, a note of impatience evident.

"Sir, it's me, Arjun," came the calm, efficient voice of his assistant.

"Just a reminder about the ten o'clock meeting at the office.

"The call ended abruptly, leaving Ekansh staring at the ceiling, realizing the inevitability of the day.

Resigned to the demands of his schedule, he sighed deeply and decided to rise.

As he sat up, the blanket slipped from his chest, revealing his chiseled torso, a testament to countless hours of disciplined workouts and strict nutrition.

Standing at 6'4" with a muscular build and an eight-pack abdomen, Ekansh Rathore was the epitome of physical perfection.

His handsome face, framed by tousled, jet-black hair, was often the subject of admiration and envy.

Dark eyes, still heavy with sleep, scanned the room, taking in the modern, minimalist decor accented with luxurious touches - a designer rug, abstract art pieces, and state-of-the-art technology seamlessly integrated into the space.He swung his feet to the floor, feeling the cool, polished marble underfoot, and stood up slowly, the sunlight now fully bathing his impressive physique.

Moving to the balcony doors, he drew back the drapes entirely. The room was flooded with light, the panoramic view of Mumbai's skyline coming into sharp focus. The morning light illuminated his well-defined features, casting a golden hue over his skin.

Despite the beautiful weather outside, Ekansh's day was off to a rough start.

The headache that had begun as a dull throb now pulsed sharply in his temples.

Grimacing, he stepped back into the room, massaging his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but the headache persisted.

The grandeur of his surroundings offered little comfort as he paced back to the bed, the echoes of his assistant's reminder ringing in his ears.