The entire office held its breath. The silence was deafening, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. No one dared to move, let alone speak. The air was cold-not from the air conditioning, but from the presence of the woman standing at th...
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The night was ours.
After four days of chaos, music, traditions, and an outrageously grand wedding—it was finally just the two of us.
No cameras. No guests. No teasing remarks from Arav. No smirks from Maa.
Just Roohani and me.
And yet, as I stood in our room, watching my wife—MY WIFE—sitting on the decorated bed, adorned in her bridal jewelry, her sindoor marking her as mine… I felt breathless.
She looked like a dream.
Draped in a deep-red silk saree, gold bangles clinking softly on her wrists, her long hair cascading down her back in waves.
Her kajal-rimmed eyes met mine.
And she smirked.
"Are you just going to stand there, Sehgal?" Her voice was soft, teasing.
I chuckled, walking toward her slowly, deliberately.
“Just… admiring.”
She raised a brow. “I thought I married a man, not a poet.”
I knelt before her, taking her hands in mine, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. "You married a man hopelessly in love with you."
Her breath hitched—just slightly.
I smirked. "Did I make the Ice Queen nervous?"
She narrowed her eyes. “Shut up.”
I laughed softly, lifting her chin. "You’re mine, Roohani."****"Completely. Unconditionally. Forever."
And then I kissed her.
Deep. Unrushed. Reverent.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, her bangles jingling as she pulled me closer.
I lifted her effortlessly, laying her down against the bed, her saree pooling around her like spilled wine.
"Tell me to stop," I murmured against her skin, trailing kisses down her jaw.
She exhaled sharply. "If you stop, I’ll kill you."
I grinned. "That’s my wife."
And as the night stretched on, with whispers, touches, and breathless gasps, I made sure she knew exactly how much I worshipped her.
I woke up to the soft scent of roses and sandalwood.
And the warm weight of my wife against my chest.
Her hair was a mess, her sindoor slightly smudged, her bare back warm against my fingertips.
