Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The vermillion touched my hairline gently.

Gautam’s hand didn’t tremble.

It wasn’t rushed either. Just… careful. Like someone doing something important without letting himself feel it.

When he tied the mangalsutra around my neck, the weight of it settled heavier than the jewellery itself. That was it. No dramatic music. No stolen glances. No whispered promises.

The wedding ended quietly.

We bent to touch the elders’ feet. Blessings were placed on our heads, hands briefly resting where love was supposed to be. People smiled, congratulated us, spoke about fate and destiny like they always do.

For them, it was simple.

A love marriage. Gautam Malhotra had found his bride.

No one noticed that there was no one from my side of the mandap. No parents. No relatives. No tears of joy.

I had told them I was an orphan.

It was the easiest lie.

Gautam hadn’t questioned it.

That itself told me something about him.

The Malhotra mansion welcomed us with light and noise. Rituals followed—endless, tiring, almost suffocating. I smiled when required, nodded when spoken to, followed every instruction like a well-trained bride.

Gautam stayed beside me the entire time.

Not close.

Not distant.

Just… present.

He didn’t hold my hand, but he didn’t abandon me to the crowd either. When someone spoke to me, he listened. When I hesitated, he waited. He never once pretended affection—but he never humiliated me with indifference.

By the time we were finally led to our room, my head throbbed and my smile hurt.

The door closed behind us with a soft click.

Gautam walked straight to the washroom without a word.

No awkwardness. No hesitation.

Just a quiet understanding that space was needed.

I lifted my veil slowly.

The room was large, elegant, untouched. It didn’t look like a space meant for newlyweds. It looked like a room meant for strangers forced to coexist.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap, waiting.

When Gautam came out, he had changed into simple clothes. No wedding heaviness. No jewellery. Just himself.

He looked tired.

Not physically. Emotionally.

He noticed me sitting there and paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to speak or let the silence stretch.

I stood up, took my clothes from the bag, and walked past him into the washroom.

He didn’t look at me for too long.

Not out of disinterest—but restraint.

That, I realized, was his way.

When I came out, he was sitting on the sofa, his phone in his hand. He typed something quickly, then put it aside and leaned back, staring at nothing.

I sat on the other end of the sofa, leaving space between us. Not because he asked for it—but because it felt right.

Silence settled.

It wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was cautious.

After a few minutes, he spoke.

“Thank you.”

I turned to him, surprised.

I nodded. “I should thank you.”

He gave a small nod in return, like he understood what I meant.

Then, quietly, “For the world… we’re a loving couple. Married because we love each other.”

There was no emotion in his voice. No bitterness either. Just clarity.

“So we’ll act like one. Especially in front of my family.”

I nodded again.

“And if you feel uncomfortable at any point,” he added after a pause, “you can tell me.”

I opened my mouth.

So many words pressed against my chest. Truths. Lies. Questions.

I swallowed them all and closed my mouth.

I nodded.

He didn’t push.

That told me more about him than words ever could.

“You take the bed,” he said, standing up. “I’ll sleep here.”

I shook my head slightly, but he was already walking to the cupboard, pulling out a blanket.

I didn’t argue.

Some people don’t build walls to keep others out.

They build them to survive.

I lay down on the bed while he switched off the lights.

The room went dark.

I heard him settle onto the sofa, adjusting the blanket, careful not to make noise.

In the darkness, I stared at the ceiling.

Gautam Malhotra wasn’t cold.

He was someone who had once felt too deeply… and learned never to show it again.

And somehow, in this marriage built on purpose and silence—

I knew.

Breaking him would be easy.

Understanding him would be dangerous.