Chapter 7

The night passed in unbearable silence.

Aaradhya lay on the grand bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, sleepless and restless. Every tick of the clock echoed like a reminder of the prison she was trapped in.

The sheets felt foreign. The room smelled of him. Of the man who had turned her life upside down, who had claimed her like a possession.

Her fists clenched the soft fabric beneath her. She wouldn't be his possession.

The early morning light crept into the room, casting soft golden rays over her face. Her body ached, not from exhaustion, but from the storm raging inside her.

A knock at the door shattered the fragile silence.

She didn't answer.

The door creaked open, and the same elderly woman from last night stepped inside, her expression unreadable.

"Thakurain sa, Pehli rasoi ki rasam tay hai aaj. Aapko taiyyar hona hoga." (It is your first kitchen ritual today, Thakurain. You have to get ready.)

Aaradhya turned her face away, biting back her anger.

These rituals, these traditions-they meant nothing to her.

This marriage meant nothing to her.

Yet, she knew she had no choice.

She pushed the blanket away and rose from the bed, her movements stiff.

The woman placed a fresh set of clothes on the bed-a deep red lehenga embroidered with gold, heavy with traditional chunni.

Aaradhya stared at it for a moment before picking it up. If she was going to fight this battle, she needed to play along-for now.

Dressed in the heavy rajasthani lehnga, her wrists adorned with the red and white bangles of a newlywed woman, Aaradhya stepped into the enormous kitchen of the haveli.

The moment she entered, every woman inside turned to look at her. Some curious, some with approval, others with hidden smirks.

She felt suffocated.

"Thakurain sa, aapko kuch meetha banana hoga." (You have to make something sweet, Thakurain.)

Aaradhya swallowed her irritation and walked toward the counter. Her mother had always told her that food carried emotions.

And today?

Today, she was filled with only one thing-rage.

She began preparing kheer in complete silence, her fingers moving mechanically, her mind elsewhere.

When she was done, the bowl was taken to Vijayendra, who was in his home office.

Aaradhya stood at a distance, her heart thudding in defiance.

He lifted the spoon, tasting the kheer.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

"Badi mehnat se banaya hai." (You've made it with great effort.) His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Aaradhya forced herself to remain still, masking her emotions.

She wouldn't let him see the fire burning inside her.

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. His dark gaze never left hers.

"Thakurain, ek patni sirf rasoi sambhalne ke liye nahi hoti," he said, his voice low yet sharp. "Ek patni apne pati ki baatein bhi sunne ke liye hoti hai." (A wife is not just meant to manage the kitchen. A wife is also meant to listen to her husband.)

Aaradhya's fingers curled into fists.

She held her head high. "Aur ek patni sirf ek pati ki zabardasti sehne ke liye bhi nahi bani hoti." (And a wife is not meant to just endure a husband's force.)

For the first time, his smirk vanished.

A thick silence settled between them. The challenge had been thrown.

His jaw tightened. His fingers tapped the table rhythmically as if deciding how to respond.

Then, suddenly-he laughed.

Low, dark, and dangerous.

He rose from his seat, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. The room felt smaller. The air, heavier.

Stopping just inches away, he leaned down slightly, his voice a whisper meant only for her.

"Tu mujhe sikhayegi pati ka farz?" (You will teach me a husband's duty?)

Aaradhya refused to step back. She refused to show weakness.

"Agar pati hone ka farz aap ko aata, toh shayad mujhe sikhane ki zaroorat nahi padti." (If you knew a husband's duty, maybe I wouldn't have to teach you.)

His eyes darkened. The storm inside him was visible now, and he pulled her near.

"Maine kal tujhe chod kya diya. Tujhe laga ki tu aazaad se? " He asked.

Vijayendra's grip on her wrist was firm, almost possessive, as he pulled her closer. Aaradhya sucked in a sharp breath, her body colliding against his hard chest. The heat of him seeped through the layers of her heavy saree, making her skin prickle with awareness.

His dark eyes burned into hers, smouldering with something dangerous, something forbidden.

"Tu sochti hai mujhe farz nibhana nahi aata?" he murmured, his breath brushing against her lips. (And you think I don't know how to fulfil my duties?)

Aaradhya's heart pounded furiously. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let him see the way her body reacted to his closeness.

"I know you don't," she spat, her voice barely steady.

Vijayendra's smirk returned, slow and wicked. "Toh aazma le," he whispered. (Then test me.)

Before she could react, his fingers traced the curve of her waist, barely touching yet enough to send a tremor through her. Aaradhya sucked in a breath, her pulse betraying her resolve.

"Dekho, thakurain..." his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Main tujhe har pal yaad dilaunga ki tu meri hai." (Look, Thakurain... I will remind you every moment that you are mine.)

Aaradhya tried to push him away, but he anticipated her movement, his fingers tightening just slightly at her waist. Not enough to hurt-just enough to keep her where he wanted.

"You don't own me," she hissed.

His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Jab dil aur saans dono maare naam ka ho jaaye, toh adhikar ka sawal hi nahi uthta," he murmured. (When both your heart and breath belong to me, there's no question of ownership.)

Aaradhya trembled. She wanted to fight, wanted to scream, but her own body was betraying her.

His touch was a slow, torturous dance, tracing the edge of her waist, his fingers teasingly grazing over her stomach. A flicker of heat coursed through her veins.

She hated this.

She hated him.

But then why... Why did she feel like she couldn't breathe when he was this close?

Aaradhya swallowed hard, gathering every ounce of strength she had left. With a sudden force, she wrenched her hand free and stepped back.

"Stay away from me," she warned, her voice shaking slightly.

Vijayendra merely tilted his head, watching her as if he had all the time in the world. His smirk never wavered. "Jitna door bhaagegi, utna paas aayegi," he murmured. (The farther you run, the closer you'll come.)

"You think I don't know my duties as a husband?" His voice was deep, husky, his breath warm against her face. "Maybe I should prove it to you."

Her pulse skittered wildly. "Let me go," she demanded, but her voice lacked conviction.

Vijayendra smirked, his fingers brushing up her arm, slow and deliberate. "If I let you go now, Thakurain, you'll only keep running. And I'm tired of this game."

Aaradhya sucked in a breath as his fingers traced the edge of her waist, dipping into the curve of her chunni. The heat of his touch seared through the delicate fabric, sending a shiver rippling down her spine.

She hated how her body betrayed her, how his mere presence made her heart hammer against her ribs. She hated the way her breathing grew shallow when he leaned in just a little closer.

"You don't affect me," she whispered, trying to gather the anger that had always been her shield against him.

Vijayendra chuckled, dark and knowing. "Then why do you tremble when I touch you?"

Her entire body tensed as his fingers slid higher, grazing her bare back where the blouse dipped. A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

"Stop," she said, her voice weaker this time.

But he didn't stop.

Instead, his lips hovered just above her cheek, his breath sending warmth over her skin. "Tell me to stop like you mean it, Aaradhya," he murmured, his voice dipping into something almost sinful.

Her hands fisted against his chest, but she couldn't push him away.

The scent of him-smoky, masculine, intoxicating-invaded her senses. She felt his fingers slide along her spine, an agonizingly slow caress that made her knees weak.

She was losing control.

Vijayendra tilted his head, his lips barely brushing against her jaw, teasing, testing. "You challenge me like you want to hate me," he whispered, "but your body says otherwise."

Aaradhya's breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Heat coiled in her stomach, fierce and unfamiliar.

She wanted to push him away.

She wanted to slap him, to remind him that she despised him.

But her body-traitorous, weak-betrayed her.

Her fingers clutched at his kurta instead of shoving him away. Her chest rose and fell, each breath shallower than the last.

Vijayendra pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own dark with intent. "Kaho, Thakurain," he taunted, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. "Batao mujhe, kya sach mein chahti ho ke main door chala jaaun?" (Tell me, Thakurain, do you really want me to step away?)

Aaradhya's throat went dry. She should say yes. She should scream at him, fight him.

But when his lips hovered over hers, so close, so devastatingly close-she couldn't move.

His thumb traced her lip again, this time pressing slightly, parting them just enough. Her heart pounded, her breath shaky.

"Jab tak tu khud mana nahi karegi, main nahi rukoonga," he whispered. (Until you stop me yourself, I won't stop.)

His lips brushed hers-light, fleeting, torturous.

A soft sound escaped her throat, half frustration, half something else entirely.

Then, as if he could sense her surrender, his mouth captured hers in a deep, searing kiss.

Aaradhya gasped against his lips, her body jolting at the intensity. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together as if moulded to fit.

The kiss was demanding, relentless-an assertion of control of possession. But what terrified her the most was how much she was drowning in it.

His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back as his lips moved against hers, tasting, taking. A soft moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

That sound-her surrender-made something snap inside him.

Vijayendra growled low in his throat, deepening the kiss, his hands roaming over her back, her waist, as if memorizing every inch.

Aaradhya was burning.

She clutched at his kurta as his lips moved down her jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck. A shiver wracked through her as his teeth grazed her skin, his tongue soothing the slight sting.

Her breathing was ragged, her head spinning.

This was madness.

And yet, she couldn't stop.

Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling slightly, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening.

His hand moved to her pallu chunni, sliding it away a little, revealing her swan like neck for him to taste, and his mouth started leave wet kisses there, his tongue licking her soft buttery skin, suckin* it hard. Then bite it.

Aaradhya being new to this intimacy couldn't control. It was the first time in her 19-year-old life that she was touched by a man.

"Dekha?" he murmured against her throat. "Tu bhi mujhe chahti hai." (See? You want me too.)

That single statement snapped her out of the trance.

Aaradhya's eyes widened, horror crashing into her like a wave.

No.

No, she couldn't let him win.

Summoning every ounce of strength left in her, she shoved against his chest. "I hate you!" she gasped, her voice shaking.

Vijayendra stilled, his breathing rough, his forehead resting against hers.

"Hate me all you want," he murmured, his voice dark with certainty. "But this-" he cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking the flushed skin, "-this proves that you feel something for me. And remember, you are my Biwi, I have every right on you and your body. I can touch you whenever and however I want , so get used to it. " He said before leaving with a smirk , his finger rubbing his lower lip seductively , making her shudder, and she felt something happening to her lower part.

Aaradhya's heart twisted in panic.

To be continued...

Lots of love to you all
Love you all
Itsyourblackrose