Ishika’s eyes fluttered open to a room that didn’t make sense.

Yesterday this place had been hell — cluttered, half-broken, a battlefield of her own fury. Now it was spotless. The walls looked freshly wiped, and new things sat neatly where the old, shattered ones used to be.

She sat up slowly, still in her heavy wedding lehenga, the embroidery digging into her skin. Her gaze fell on a pile of luggage by the nightstand. Her brother must have sent her things overnight.

She opened one bag. Empty.

The next. Also empty.

Confusion prickled at her skin until she crossed to the almirah and pulled it open. Everything was there — folded, arranged, every sari and bangle she owned placed with a care that felt almost mocking.

Before she could think too hard, the door creaked open.

“Good morning, bahu.”

Veeransh’s bua stepped in, face glowing with a smile that didn’t reach Ishika’s eyes.

“But it’s our tradition here,” she said softly, “that on the first morning, the daughter-in-law wears a sari given by her mother-in-law.”

She paused, her smile faltering. “Veeransh’s maa…”

Ishika said nothing.

The bua extended a deep maroon silk sari toward her. “Here. Are you still angry with us?”

Ishika’s jaw tightened. “Do you really want to hear the truth?” Her voice was low, steady, dangerous. “A girl forced into marriage, married off to a criminal against her will… do you think she can be happy?”

Without waiting for an answer, she took the sari and walked straight to the washroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

The bua stood there for a moment, whispering to the empty room, “The day you learn the truth, Ishika… you’ll break.”

Steam clung to the mirror when Ishika stepped out. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, water still dripping down her neck. She was busy tucking the pallu of the new sari into place when the door opened again.

Too lightly.

Veeransh slipped in, and the moment his eyes landed on her, he forgot how to breathe.

Her hair was loose at the nape, falling over the low back of her blouse. The room was suddenly too small, too quiet.

In one smooth motion, he stepped behind her and pulled the towel from her head.

Ishika gasped, spinning around, her cheeks flushing with fury. “What is this? How dare you come in here!”

Veeransh didn’t answer. He just watched her, a slow, amused smile curving his lips. Like he was memorizing the sight of her angry.

Ishika’s frustration boiled over. “Have you lost all sense of decency? Shameless man!”

He said nothing. Still watching. Still enjoying every second of making her lose her composure.

Veeransh didn’t step back.

If anything, he closed the distance, slow enough that Ishika could have stopped him. She didn’t.

“Shameless, huh?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it filled the small space between them. Water still clung to the ends of her hair, and a drop slid down her neck. His eyes followed it for half a second before meeting hers again.

“I didn’t come in to fight you, Ishika.”

Her name on his lips made her pause.

He reached out, not to touch her, but to adjust the pallu she’d been struggling with. His fingers brushed hers—brief, accidental, but enough to make her breath hitch.

“If I wanted to be a criminal tonight, I wouldn’t be standing here talking.” The corner of his mouth tugged up, but there was no real amusement in it. Just something quieter. Heavier. “I’d already be gone.”

Ishika’s fury faltered for half a heartbeat.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not even close. But the words lodged somewhere beneath her anger, and for the first time since last night, she didn’t have a sharp reply ready.

She pulled her hand back, clutching the sari tighter like it could shield her from him. “Get out” Her voice was steadier now, but thinner.

He studied her for a long moment, like he was memorizing the way her defenses wavered. Then he gave a small nod and turned toward the door.

“I’ll leave,” he said. “But don’t confuse my patience for weakness.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the sound of her own breathing and the stubborn heat on her skin where his fingers had grazed hers.