It wasn’t rough, but it was undeniably dominant.
Karan leaned in, his breath brushing warmly against her temple. Their height difference was unmistakable. He stood at six feet, towering over her five-six frame. If they ever hugged, her forehead would just about reach his jaw.
“I think your brother forgot to tell you something before our marriage.”
She had no clue what and had no courage to ask him that either. Not when he held her so close, not when his eyes burned into hers like he would eat her whole.
Karan’s lips curved in a humourless smirk, seeing the confusion on her face.
“Karan Wadhwa doesn’t listen to anyone. He does things when he wants to do them. So, we’ll talk whenIwant to talk. Not whenyoudo.”
Her heart thudded painfully this time. What kind of man was he? Why was he behaving so bitterly with her?
“Now get in the car,” he added. “Act like the obedient wife that you are… and let’s get this done with.”
Her lips parted in shock, but before she could respond, he released her. He walked away, not even looking back, and got into the driver’s seat.
Mishti’s mind screamed at her to say something, but her voice refused to obey. Maybe it was fear.
She gathered her lehenga, opened the passenger door herself, and slid in silently. The car carried the faint trace of his cologne, an intoxicating scent she’d unwillingly grown to like. Maybe because it was the only part of him, she could have, something she could breathe in without needing his permission. As soon as he started the engine, her gaze drifted to the strawberry-red lip gloss on the console.
Her brows furrowed. She picked it up, staring at it for a second too long.
“Whose is this?” she murmured.
Karan’s hand shot out, snatching it from her grip. Without looking, he tossed it into the back seat. “Kanika’s. She left it there this morning.”
The mention of that name again made something twist in her stomach. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but a strange discomfort.
The drive continued. Half the time, Karan was on his Bluetooth headset, speaking to someone commandingly, all business. The other half, he was silent…eyes on the road, jaw tight, thinking.
Mishti sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap, wondering when would he want to talk to her and clear all her confusions.Maybe never!
When they finally reached Goel House, he parked, stepped out, and adjusted his jacket without glancing at her. She waited foolishly, hoping that he would come around to open her door. But he didn’t. So, she quietly got down and followed him inside.
****************
Goel House
Goel House glittered that evening with crystal chandeliers, rose-gold drapes, and guests flowing in. The reception was grand, exactly what one would expect from a union that carried both business power and social prestige.
Divya Goel, Mishti’s sister-in-law, dressed gracefully in a light pink saree, stood near the entrance, welcoming the guests. Her smile could light up the room, but tonight it carried a trace of weariness, waiting to meet Mishti and to know if she was fine.
“Good work, Divya.” Her husband, Daksh Goel, said reaching her with pride. “You’ve really organised this party so well.”
“It’s your one and only sister’s wedding reception, Daksh,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Why wouldn’t I give my best?”
“Correction, Sweetheart.” He gave a mocking chuckle. “It’s not my sister’s wedding party, it’s myhalf-sister’s.”
Divya sighed, turning to face him fully. “She’s away from you now. But the dislike you have for her… will it ever fade?”
“Never,” he said. “The best thing I’ve done is getting her married off.” His lips curved wickedly again before he gestured for a waiter for champagne.
Divya’s heart tightened. Mishti had never done anything to deserve that kind of cruelty from her brother. Sweet, gentle, and pure-hearted, she was the kind of woman who still believed love could heal the world. But what Divya had seen at the wedding haunted her even now. Karan Wadhwa’s eyes hadn’t softenedonce when they’d fallen on Mishti. Even during the rituals, while she trembled with nervousness, he had sat beside her like a man untouched by emotion, as though the sacred vows meant nothing more than a business contract to him.
It was that chilling indifference that made Divya’s chest ache. She’d noticed how his hand never once reached for Mishti’s, even when tradition demanded it. And Mishti, trying to hide her hurt behind a brave smile, had looked more fragile than ever.
Hence, Divya had been desperate to speak with her now, to look into her eyes and make sure she was truly alright. To know if Karan, with his hard stares and unbending silence, was treating her with even a fragment of tenderness she deserved. Because if he wasn’t, Divya wasn’t sure how long Mishti’s gentle heart could survive being caged beside his ruthless one.
