Mishti felt a pang of hurt. It wastheirwedding reception, yet he hadn’t once stood by her side. They were receiving guests’ wishes separately, as if they were strangers rather than newlyweds. What was he trying to prove? On one hand, he expected her to play the obedient wife, giving the impression that everything between them was perfect. And yet, he didn’t even bother to be courteous or presentable beside her, allowing his so-called business partner, Kanika, to linger at his side, giving others a chance to notice and comment.
It was enough. Mishti excused herself quietly and slipped outside into the garden. But even the cool night air couldn’t ease the storm inside her. Oblivious to her, somewhere in the shadows beyond the glass walls, Karan’s dark eyes followed her form.
She sank onto a bench, her tears falling silently.Why does it always have to be me?she thought bitterly.Why can’t someone just… choose me?
Nothing in her life seemed to be falling into place. She had never experienced the love and care she longed for. Her mother, with whom she had shared only fleeting years, was gone. Her brother, Daksh, had always kept a distance, his heart seemingly locked away from her entirely. Even living under the same roof, he had never bothered to check on her, never asked how she was feeling, how her studies were going, who her friends were, or if she had someone special in her life. Nothing. All because she was hishalf-sister. Was that her fault? Had she chosen this life?
And now, Karan. Her husband. He was worse than anyone else. He didn’t notice her needs, didn’t bother to be near her, and seemed to even avoid sharing the same space as her. What kind of marriage was this? Could she endure such coldness for a lifetime?
Her tears rolled freely now, but she quickly wiped them away as she heard footsteps approaching. Turning her head, shesaw a man walking toward her, someone she didn’t recognise immediately, though she sensed he was a guest from the party. He stopped a few feet away and extended his hand.
“Hey, Bhabhi. I’m Rajat Mathur,” he said warmly.
A faint smile tugged at her lips despite the lingering sorrow.
“Hello,” she replied, shaking his hands.
Rajat couldn’t help but admire her grace. Even in tears, Mishti carried herself with the dignity of a true bride.
“What are you doing out here? You should be with Karan,” he said.
“I… I just needed some fresh air,” she lied.
But Rajat was intelligent enough to understand what was wrong. Kanika’s constant presence with Karan had not gone unnoticed. Any wife would struggle seeing her husband so engrossed with another woman, no matter the circumstances.
“Well, I hope you are okay now.”
“Better,” she nodded.
“Great. Then we should get inside.”
Mishti smiled faintly, letting him guide her back toward the house.
“So, you’re Karan’s friend?” she asked curiously.
“Yes. Actually, we’re business partners too.”
“Partners?” she repeated, surprised.
“Yeah. Why?”
“No… I just… I don’t know anything about his professional life.”
Rajat chuckled. “First, get a grip on his personal life. Then you can think about his business.”
Mishti nodded, letting his words settle as they entered the house. Divya was immediately at her side, concerned.
“Where did you go, Mishti? Come, you and Karan need to cut the cake,” she urged, taking her hand and leading her to the centre table.
Excusing herself from Rajat, Mishti stepped forward, spotting Karan already standing with a neutral expression. He had noticed her with Rajat, but he remained unaffected.
As she reached him, he passed her the knife silently. Their fingers brushed for a second before he stood too close, ready to cut the cake.
The crowd clapped, but the sound barely registered when Karan held her hand to guide the knife. He hadn’t wanted to do this…none of it. If it had been just the Goels and their close circle, he would’ve refused outright. But with the guests, the business elite, and the media watching from every corner, he couldn’t risk giving them gossip. So, he played along, becoming the picture-perfect husband, smiling just enough to look convincing, holding her hand as the knife sank through the cake.
Mishti lifted a small piece and held it up to him. He leaned forward, locking his eyes with hers before taking the bite. She could barely breathe when his lips touched her fingers. When he returned the gesture, offering her a piece, she hesitated only a second before parting her lips.
That’s when she noticed a tiny crumb clinging to his jaw. He probably hadn’t felt it. Her hand moved before her mind could stop it. She reached up, her fingertip brushing against his rough skin as she wiped it away. The touch was innocent, but it didn’t feel that way. Not with the way his eyes darkened instantly, locking on her like she’d just crossed an invisible line.
