“I’m still the first,” she said softly.
He frowned, unsure what it meant.
Her eyes lifted to his as she smiled. “None of those women you touched was your wife.I am.”
For a second, he just stared at her in disbelief, even furious, wondering was she even real? How could someone find a ray of hope even when surrounded by so much darkness? She belonged to a rare kind…the kind who chose to see the light even when the world offered nothing but shadows.
Karan rose from the barstool, towering over her fragile frame, once more.
“My wife… Yes. And you always will be until death separates us. Only death.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs as he turned and walked away. What had just happened? His touch still burned on her skin; his words still echoed in her ears. He claimed he didn’t want her, yet the way he’d looked at her said something entirely different.
This man was really a lost soul. Angry. Broken.
But this little moment they shared today only confirmed that if she tried hard enough, maybe she could turn their bitter marriage into something sweet.
Just like her name.
Mishti.
CHAPTER 5
Wadhwa Mansion – Next Morning
Karan came down the marble stairs, still furious at himself for the madness that had crept into him last night. How could he touch her like that? And not just any woman, but Mishti Goel. The name itself should’ve been his warning, his restraint. Instead, he’d let his guard slip, his fingers had lingered on her skin, and the memory of her soft gasp still burned in his head like a curse.
He’d woken up seething; his anger directed at himself more than anyone else. And since morning, every person in the mansion had borne the brunt of his bad mood. The pancakes, his usual breakfast, suddenly tasted wrong. Too sweet. The coffee, his favourite blend, was too sugary. Even his grey suit hadn’t been “properly ironed,” though it looked flawless. The help had scrambled to redo everything as he barked orders, his irritation brewing hotter by the minute.
Now, already late for work, his only plan was to escape the house without even glancing at her. But just as he reached the living area, he heard Maria’s voice.
“Ma’am, please don’t do this… Sir will scold us.”
Karan froze. So, she was in the kitchen? Disobeying him.Again.
He could have walked out. Ignored her. But curiosity and that strange, burning need to confront her tugged him in. Heturned sharply and strode toward the kitchen to see what his wife was up to now.
Mishti stood by the counter in a soft pastel-pink cotton co-ord set, looking heartbreakingly feminine. The top was half-sleeved, buttoned in front, the loose fabric tied in a small knot at her waist. Her hair was still damp, the ends dripping onto her shoulders. As always, she looked like she belonged to another world, one untouched by bitterness.
She had plans of cooking as the kitchen counter was a mild chaos, with bowls, carrots, a whisk, and a pan heating on the stove. Maria stood nearby, wringing her hands nervously.
The moment Maria saw him, she stiffened and looked down.
“What’s happening here?” Karan scolded. “Didn’t I make it clear she’s not allowed to enter the kitchen?”
Mishti didn’t look at him.
Maria stammered softly, “I told her, Sir… but Ma’am didn’t listen.”
“I’m used to cooking,” Mishti said calmly, still stirring something in the bowl, “and I had nothing else to do. So, I decided to cook.”
He gritted his teeth. Of all things, she was cooking now?
“Maria, leave us,” he said without taking his eyes off Mishti.
Maria bowed her head and slipped out.
“No one disobeys my orders in this house, Mishti.” He said, stepping further inside.
