A STATE OF CONFUSION
1197 Words
The morning light filtered softly through the lace curtains, touching everything in the room with a golden calm. Jasmine sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the faint silver mark around her wrist — the mark that was supposed to bind her to Meheek completely.
It pulsed faintly under her skin, quiet but alive, a reminder of what hadn’t happened.
The binding ceremony.
It was tradition — unavoidable, sacred, and spoken about in hushed voices. Every woman born into noble blood knew of it; it was the moment the magic between husband and wife fused permanently — a link of soul and power. It was also the part Jasmine had dreaded most.
Yet it hadn’t happened.
The thought filled her with both relief and unease.
Her phone buzzed suddenly on the bedside table, breaking the silence. She reached for it, half expecting her mother’s cold voice, but the name glowing on the screen made her heart lift.
Havilah.
She answered instantly. “Havi…”
“Jas!” came Havilah’s anxious voice, nearly shouting. “I’ve been trying to call you since dawn! Why didn’t you pick up last night?”
Jasmine sighed softly. “I fell asleep after the family dinner. Everything’s been so… heavy.”
“Forget dinner,” Havilah said in a rush. “Tell me about the ceremony.”
Jasmine blinked. “The… ceremony?”
“Yes, the binding,” Havilah pressed. “You said it was supposed to happen on the wedding night! Everyone in your lineage went through it — even your mother told mine about it when she got married. So, what happened?”
Jasmine swallowed, staring down at her wrist. The faint light flickered beneath her skin, soft as moonlight. “It didn’t happen.”
“What do you mean it didn’t happen?”
“I mean… Meheek didn’t mention it,” she whispered. “After the wedding, we went home. He barely spoke to me. I thought maybe he’d… but he didn’t. He just told me to rest.”
Silence hummed on the line.
“That’s strange,” Havilah finally said, her tone a mix of suspicion and concern. “Why would he skip the most important ritual? Is he rejecting the bond? Or…”
“Or what?” Jasmine asked quietly.
“Or he’s waiting for something,” Havilah murmured. “You don’t know these mafia men, Jas. They have their own ways of power. Maybe he wants to bind you differently.”
Jasmine’s stomach turned. The thought made her pulse quicken — not just from fear, but something else she didn’t understand.
“I don’t know, Havi,” she said finally, her voice thin. “Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want the bond at all.”
Havilah sighed. “Jas, please be careful. Power like that — it’s never left idle for long.”
“I will,” Jasmine murmured. “I’ll call you later.”
When the call ended, silence crept back in, heavy and still. She stared down at her wrist again, her heart twisting with confusion.
Why hadn’t he done it?
It wasn’t that she wanted the ceremony. The thought of it had terrified her for months. But knowing that he’d chosen not to perform it made her feel oddly unsettled — like waiting for a storm that refused to come.
She stood and walked to the balcony, the long curtains whispering around her. The gardens below were quiet, the air heavy with the scent of dew and lilies. Somewhere deep in the mansion, she could hear faint voices — guards, servants, footsteps echoing in long halls.
Then — silence again.
She turned back into the room, her thoughts running wild. Maybe Meheek didn’t care. Maybe this marriage meant nothing to him. Maybe she was just another deal between powerful families, forgotten the moment the ink dried.
The door opened behind her.
Her breath caught.
Meheek stood in the doorway, his hand still on the handle, his gaze steady on her. He wasn’t wearing his usual black — today, it was a dark gray shirt, the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The morning light cut across his face, sharp and calm, but his eyes held that quiet danger she couldn’t name.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.
She hesitated. “Good morning.”
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied.
He watched her quietly for a moment before his gaze dropped — straight to her wrist. The faint shimmer of the mark reflected softly in the light.
“You’ve been thinking about it,” he said quietly.
She froze. “About what?”
“The ceremony.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He had read her too easily.
“I…” She looked away, her fingers curling instinctively over her wrist. “I was just wondering why you didn’t—”
“Finish it?” His voice was low, unreadable.
She nodded, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
Meheek took a slow step closer, then another, until the air between them thickened. Jasmine’s heartbeat thundered in her chest. He wasn’t touching her — he didn’t need to. His presence alone filled the room.
When he finally spoke again, his tone was measured, but there was something underneath it — something that made her skin prickle.
“Do you want me to?”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “What?”
“The binding,” he said softly, tilting his head. “Do you want me to finish it?”
Jasmine’s breath hitched. “That’s not what I—”
“Because if you do,” he continued, cutting her off gently, “I can make it happen. Right now.”
She took a step back, her pulse racing. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers. “But you were thinking it.”
Her throat went dry. The mark on her wrist pulsed faintly, as if responding to his words.
“I was only curious,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all.”
Meheek studied her for a long moment — then smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Curiosity is dangerous, Jasmine. Especially when it comes to things that bind.”
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Eat something. You’ll need your strength for the week ahead.”
She frowned slightly. “Why? What’s happening this week?”
He glanced back over his shoulder, that same calm expression back on his face. “Business,” he said simply. “My world doesn’t stop just because we’re married.”
And then he was gone.
Jasmine stood frozen where he left her, her mind spinning.
She didn’t know whether to be angry, frightened, or strangely intrigued. But one thing was certain — Meheek Augustus wasn’t a man easily understood.
And somewhere, deep down, beneath all the confusion and fear, a spark of curiosity began to burn brighter than before.
- Writer
