Reyansh's Point of View
He had promised himself boundaries.
Time. Space.
Patience.
The girl in the bridal lehenga was the one who had once reached out her hand to him when he had been drowning in nothing but ruin and rage. And still… she had smiled. Gently. Openly. She had asked him for help — the string of her blouse, the weight of her jewellery. It had been innocent. Innocent — and yet it had burned like sin.
That night, he'd laid down beside her for the first time. Not on the sofa. Not across the room like some man guarding his restraint. No. He had watched her disappear into the bathroom and return in a soft, light saree. She had taken off everything — the bangles, the nose ring, the anklets — except for that single black-beaded thread against her collarbone. The mangalsutra. His name on her.
She hadn't spoken much after that. Just a nod. A glance. Her hair open, cascading down her shoulders like a river at dusk. No words — but no fear either.
That alone should have made him cautious.
But it didn't.
When she turned her back to him and slipped under the sheets, he followed — slowly, carefully. Not touching her. Barely breathing. He thought he would stay like that, on the edge of the bed. Quiet. Respectful. As he always was.
But sometime before dawn, that all fell apart.
---
The morning light was dim, filtering in through sheer cream curtains. Birds sang outside the window, muffled by glass and distance. He woke to the heat of skin and the weight of softness against him.
Her arm was slung over his chest, fingers curled into the folds of his kurta. But what made him go still — stone still — was where his hand had gone in sleep.
Her waist.
Bare. Warm. Smooth.
And real.
His breath hitched, silent but sharp.
She hadn't stirred.
For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, heart hammering like a beast behind his ribs. Her breath came slow, steady against his neck. Innocent.
But his thoughts weren't.
God.
What was happening to him?
This wasn't the plan. He was supposed to be in control. He had married a stranger. Arina — quiet, simple, untouched by the kind of fire he carried inside. He was going to give her space, earn her trust. Let her fall first. That was the rule. His rule.
And yet, all night, she had looked at him differently.
When he had touched the knot on her blouse, her back had been so still. Her voice — gentle, steady. shy but not Not hesitant. Just... sure.
She wasn't supposed to be sure.
He clenched his jaw, trying to pull his hand back without waking her. But the moment he moved, she shifted — not awake, not fully, but just enough to bury her face slightly closer into his chest.
His throat dried.
No. He wouldn't let this spiral. He wouldn't scare her. He wouldn't let her see what kind of thoughts flickered through his mind when she looked at him like that, when her bare skin was under his palm like this.
Slowly, he exhaled.
He told himself it was just one moment. Just one accident.
But deep inside, another voice — darker, colder — whispered:
She's not like you expected, is she? She's not scared. She doesn't run. She comes closer. She asks you to touch her.
He shut his eyes tight.
That voice had always been a part of him. Since before he had money. Before power. Before he even knew what it meant to want and take. It had once made him crave Arina. Made him believe he loved her. But that wasn't love. That was obsession. That was hunger disguised in memory.
What he had with Arina — this was supposed to be different. Clean.
Yet now, everything was already turning.
She had touched him.
She had smiled.
She hadn't flinched.
And now she slept beside him like she belonged.
He had given her the benefit of doubt when she said nothing last night. Thought she was just shy.
He looked down at her, just slightly. Her face was relaxed in sleep. Peaceful. But not empty. There was something behind that peace. Something almost... proud.
Reyansh swallowed.
Maybe she wasn't the quiet little wife he thought she was.
Maybe Arina wasn't what he thought.
> "She wore another woman's face, but the man beside her would soon crave the soul within."