~prisha's pov.~

"Ugh, why is my whole body aching like this? What the hell happened to me?"

I opened my eyes slowly, my head pounding, only to realize I was lying on the cold, hard floor.

Wait... what?!

I clearly remember falling asleep on the couch last night-because that nakchara had said,

"This is my bed, and only I sleep on it. Not some outsider." And then slept like a buffalo in this master bed alone, fucker!!.

Huh. The audacity.

"What time is it?" I mumbled groggily and grabbed my phone from beside me.

My eyes widened.

"Shit. It's already 9:00 AM?"

How the hell did I sleep this long? Screw it—I need to get ready. It’s my first day here; I shouldn’t let my in-laws get a bad impression of me.

I scrambled to my feet and rushed toward the washroom... only to find the door locked.

I could hear the sound of running water.

Of course. It's him.

Without thinking twice, I knocked-twice. No response.

Ignored.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I murmured,

"Oh? So now you're ignoring Prisha Arora, huh?"

Challenge accepted.

I started banging on the door continuously, not even pausing for breath.

Just a few moments later, he yelled from inside,

"What the fuck is your problem, woman?! Can't you let me have one nice, peaceful shower?"

I shouted back,

"Bahar niklo jaldi! I need to use the restroom-I can't hold it anymore! Jaldi nikloo!"

(Translation -Come out quickly! I need to use the restroom—I can’t hold it anymore! Hurry up!)

Seriously, what is this guy doing inside-bathing like a freaking buffalo or what?!

I started pacing back and forth like a madwoman, hoping the movement would help suppress my growing urge to pee-at least until that nakchara decided to come out.

"Control kar, Prisha... control!"

I muttered breathlessly, bouncing on my toes.

If this man doesn't get out in the next minute, I swear I'm going to piss right here on the damn floor.

Fuck this man.

That's it. I'm going to Shanaya's bedroom.

I turned around and was just about to storm out when I heard the bathroom door unlock with a click.

Before he could even step out properly, I grabbed his arm, yanked him out with full force, and slammed the door shut behind me like my life depended on it.

And then... I rushed to the toilet like a woman escaping death.

~Viranshu's pov.~

I had just stepped out of the shower, water still dripping from my hair. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I made my way to open the door. The moment I did, I was yanked out of the bathroom so forcefully I nearly stumbled.

"What the hell-!" I snapped, but before I could finish, she had already slammed the door shut and locked it from inside like her damn life depended on it.

What the actual hell is wrong with this woman?

She's insane.

She doesn't even have an ounce of decency or self-restraint in her.

Yesterday, I threw those harsh words at her—cold, cutting—thinking it would draw the line. Thinking she'd finally understand that this so-called marriage means nothing.

I thought she'd break.

But no.

She did the one thing I least expected.

She raised her hand, letting her fingers roam over my bare chest, tracing unknown patterns with a slow, deliberate seductiveness that did something dangerous inside me-

"Daba doon?" she whispered seductively, leaning in slightly, lips curling into a smirk.

(Translation -Should I press)

After a pause, her voice dripped with mockery.

"Apka gala."

(Translation - your throat )

And in the very next second, she shoved me away-hard-as if the mere thought of my body touching hers was revolting.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't get to me-because fuck, it did.

Something in me snapped... or maybe it awakened. I couldn't tell which.

My body burned, painfully aware of every breath she took, every fleeting touch of her fingers moments ago.

She knew exactly how to make a man fall to his knees for her.

And I hated-truly hated-the idea of anyone else looking at her with even a hint of desire.

I shouldn't feel this way.

Not for a woman I barely knew.

A woman I'd married just yesterday-out of duty, not affection.

Especially when I've told myself-told her-that I feel nothing for her.

No love.

No care.

Not even a fucking shred of sympathy.

And yet...

Here I am, burning with emotions I shouldn't have. Watching her consume every inch of my thoughts like poison I can't spit out.

She's supposed to be just a stranger with a mangalsutra.

Shaking off those unwanted thoughts, I made my way into the walk-in closet-sleek, organized, and curated with precision.

I pulled out a freshly dry-cleaned, crisp white shirt ,stitched from fine Egyptian cotton and buttoned it up, the fabric smooth and cool against my skin. The subtle sheen of the material spoke of its price without needing to shout.

I paired it with tailored black trousers, perfectly pressed and cut to fit like a second skin. The kind that doesn't just say money-it says power.

From the display of watches, I chose one of my favorites-a limited-edition Swiss timepiece, its face framed in 18k rose gold, worth more than what most people earn in a year.

I slid it onto my wrist with the ease of someone used to luxury. Because I was.

Every detail, every stitch, every damn accessory on me was chosen to remind the world who I am.

And maybe, just maybe, to distract myself from the woman currently locked in my bathroom... who's now taking up too much space in my head.

Suddenly, something clicked in my mind-

Her clothes... they're still not here.

How the hell is she planning to get dressed?

Fuck it.

I almost ran out of the closet, instinctively, maybe even stupidly, to check if she needed anything.

But what I saw the moment I stepped out-

It made my brain freeze.

I just... stopped.

Until I heard her bangles clinking sound.

That's when I realized-

I was staring at her.

She stood there, in front of the mirror, draping a red saree around her curves like it was made just for her.

I never thought anyone could look that beautiful and damn tempting... at the same time.

But here she is-my dangerous, breathtaking wife.

My beautiful seductress.

Acting like the perfect sanskaari biwi.

Trying to play house with me?

Fine.

Let me make it easy for you, biwi...

I thought with a slow smirk as I walked toward her,

Each step deliberate-

While she fussed over her saree pleats like she wasn't already setting my entire world on fire with her mere sight of her in saree.

I stopped just inches from her, sliding the hair from one side of her shoulder to the other, exposing the delicate curve of her slender neck-

She stilled for a moment, ready to shove me off again-but I was faster. My arms locked around her small frame, pulling her flush against me until her struggles slowed into a tired, frustrated sigh.

"What the hell do you want now?" she snapped, voice sharp, though the shaky hitch in her breath betrayed her.

"Something..." I murmured, dragging the word out as my lips brushed the corner of her jaw, "...that only you can give me. And trust me, sweetheart-once I have it, you'll feel it everywhere."

Her smirk curved, taunting. "Bold of you to think I'm that easy to break."

His fingers tightened just enough to make her still. "Oh, I'm not here to break you, doll..." his voice dropped to a sinful whisper, "...I'm here to make you beg for it."

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