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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"I think I should leave."
I went still.
The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the night outside, the rustling of wind through the trees. But inside, between us, the air was heavy—thick with something neither of us had spoken aloud yet.
I should have expected it. She had been distant for days, her presence more like a shadow than a person. The way she avoided my eyes, the way she barely spoke unless she had to. I should have seen this coming.
But hearing her say it—out loud, without hesitation—was different.
"I think I should leave."
The words settled in my chest like a weight I hadn't been prepared for.
"No," I said.
Roshni's expression didn't shift. "No?"
"You're not going anywhere."
She let out a hollow breath, almost like a laugh. "And if I do?"
"You won't."
Her jaw tightened. "You think you can stop me?"
I stepped forward. "I know I can."
Her lips curled, but there was no amusement in it. "Of course. Because you're used to getting what you want, aren't you? Used to giving orders and having everyone fall in line like obedient soldiers."
Her voice was calm, measured. But there was something razor-sharp underneath. Something that cut deeper than she knew.
I exhaled slowly. "Roshni—"
"You wear that uniform like it means nothing," she said, her voice suddenly sharper. "Like it isn't the first thing people see when they look at you. When I look at you."
I stiffened.
"When I see you, Edward, I don’t see a man." She took a step closer now, her chin tilted up in defiance. "I see an empire. I see a hundred men who think they're better, stronger, untouchable. I see power that takes what it wants and never looks back."
I clenched my jaw. "I’m not them."
"Then what are you?" she snapped.
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
Because I didn’t have an answer.
Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought—hoped—she would soften. That she would take back at least some of what she said.
But she didn't.
Instead, she laughed. Soft. Bitter.
"You think this marriage makes us equals?" she asked. "That sharing a home, sharing a name, means something?" Her gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate. "It doesn’t. You could be the kindest man in the world, and it wouldn’t change what you are. Every time I look at you, Edward, I find something to hate."
