Edward Ashford x Roshni Thakur
#1st book of the forbidden series.
A marriage of convenience, A deal , A game, well that's what it was until it wasn't.
In the heart of colonial India, Edward Ashford, a British officer overseeing the railway expansio...
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The carriage ride home felt endless, though neither of us spoke. I clutched the small bundle my mother had pressed into my hands as if it were a lifeline, though the weight of it was nothing compared to the heaviness in my chest.
The house I had grown up in, the walls that once held every memory of my childhood, now felt alien, distant. It wasn’t home anymore—not truly. It hadn’t been for a long time, but admitting that aloud, even to myself, made the ache sharper.
Edward’s question echoed in my mind. “Do you miss it already?” I had lied. Or maybe I hadn’t. How could I miss something that had never been mine in the first place?
The sound of the carriage wheels grinding to a halt pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up as the gates to his—our—estate loomed closer, the grandeur of it a stark contrast to the warmth of the modest house I’d just left behind. The driver opened the door, but Edward didn’t wait for me. He stepped out swiftly, his long strides carrying him toward the house without a second glance.
I followed quietly, holding onto the bundle like it might anchor me. The walls of his home closed in around me as we stepped inside, their unfamiliarity almost suffocating.
He turned to face me then, his expression unreadable. “Tomorrow,” he said, his voice low and even. “We’ll talk more about... this.”
I didn’t answer. What was there to say?
Edward disappeared into another part of the house, leaving me standing there alone. My fingers tightened around the bundle, and I felt the tears prick at the corners of my eyes, though I blinked them back quickly. I wouldn’t cry here—not now.
I made my way to the room I had woken up in this morning, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The silence was unbearable. I set the bundle on the bed, untying the cloth carefully to reveal its contents: a simple set of bangles, a small vial of perfume, and a letter from my mother.
The bangles were thin and delicate, unlike the heavy, ornate ones I’d worn yesterday. I slipped them onto my wrist, their cool metal a comforting contrast to the warmth of my skin. The perfume smelled faintly of jasmine—my mother’s favorite.
Finally, I unfolded the letter, my hands trembling slightly as I read her familiar handwriting.
“Roshni, This is your life now, and I won’t tell you it will be easy. But remember, you are strong. Stronger than you think. Be patient, but don’t lose yourself in the process. Come back to us when you can, but until then, know that we are always here for you.”
The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I wiped them away quickly, taking a deep breath. My mother’s message was clear: endure. Survive. But what if I wasn’t strong enough?
I glanced around the room, at the crisp white sheets, the neatly arranged furniture, and the windows that let in too much light. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t a life I had chosen.
