The Way he said "MY WIFE"🔥

The room still smelled of roses and rituals. Heavy maroon curtains. Gold fairy lights. A bed decorated so perfectly it felt like a stage-not a place to sleep. And I sat right in the middle of it. Still. Stiff. Silent. A bride. A stranger's wife. My fingers tightened around the edge of my dupatta as the door clicked open behind me. He walked in. Slow. Calm. Unbothered. As if this wasn't the first night of a marriage between two people who barely knew each other. As if I wasn't sitting here trying to remember how to breathe. I didn't turn. But I could hear everything- his footsteps... the soft rustle of his sherwani... the pause when he stopped just a little too close behind me. "Relax," his voice came, low and almost amused. "I'm not going to eat you." My grip tightened. Great. He jokes. I stayed quiet. Bad move. Because the next second, I felt it- his hand lifting my veil. Slowly. Deliberately. My heart slammed against my ribs as I finally looked up- -and met his eyes. Sharp. Observing. Slightly entertained. As if he was already enjoying this. "You're scared of me," he said, tilting his head. It wasn't a question. "I'm not," I replied quickly. A lie. A terrible one. His lips curved-just a little. "Hmm." That one sound carried too much meaning. Before I could react, he stepped closer. Too close. I instinctively leaned back... but there was nowhere to go. The bed stopped me. He noticed. Of course he did. His hand came down beside me on the mattress, trapping me without actually touching me. And somehow-that was worse. "Careful," he murmured. "If you keep moving back like that, people might think I'm intimidating my own wife." My breath hitched. "Maybe you are." That made him pause. For a second... just a second. Then he leaned in slightly-close enough that I could feel his presence, not close enough to touch. "You think too much," he said softly. "And I..." his gaze dropped briefly to my lips before coming back up, "...like that." My pulse went wild. What is he doing? Why is he- "This marriage," he continued casually, straightening up, "is for our families. Not for love. Not for expectations." Relief flickered in my chest. Good. Clear boundaries. "I agree," I said quickly. "Good." But the way he said it... didn't feel like agreement. It felt like a setup. Because the next moment, he added- "But just because we're not in love..." his voice dropped slightly, "...doesn't mean I won't tease you." I blinked. "What?" He stepped back, finally giving me space-but his eyes stayed locked on mine. "You're easy to fluster," he said, almost thoughtfully. "I noticed that today." "I am not-" "You are." The confidence. The calm. The way he knew it. Infuriating. "You don't even know me," I snapped. A mistake. Because something in his expression shifted. Not anger. Interest. "Exactly," he said quietly. "And I'm looking forward to it." My heart skipped. That didn't sound like a man uninterested in his wife. That sounded like- No. I shut that thought down immediately. This was an arrangement. Nothing more. Nothing less. Right? He turned toward the couch, loosening his collar like the whole situation didn't affect him at all. "You can take the bed," he said casually. "I'm not that cruel." I stared at him. Confused. Relieved. And somehow... slightly disappointed? What is wrong with me? As he lay down, one arm behind his head, he glanced at me again. That same teasing glint back in his eyes. "Don't overthink," he added. "This is just the beginning." And something about the way he said it- -felt like a warning.