Flashback ends.

"Bahu, what happened? Come on—finish these rituals quickly, or else we will get late."

Aanaya flinched slightly at the sharpness in her mother-in-law Shobha's voice.

For a brief second, it surprised her.

From everything she had known, everything she had heard and observed before marriage, Shobha had always appeared gentle, warm, and soft-spoken. This sudden strictness felt unfamiliar. But Aanaya brushed the thought aside almost immediately.

Everyone was exhausted.

The wedding had stretched across endless rituals, ceremonies, and formalities. Sleepless nights, constant guests, and emotional strain had worn everyone down. Perhaps this was nothing more than fatigue.

She nodded silently, lowering her gaze, and followed her mother-in-law without a word—doing exactly as she was instructed, step by step.

Soon, she found herself seated on the floor, directly opposite Arvind.

Between them rested a large brass bowl filled with a mixture of water and milk. Rose petals floated delicately on the surface, along with a handful of other sacred items and rings that glimmered faintly beneath the ripples.

The entire family gathered around them in a semi-circle.

This was a traditional post-wedding game—one that Aanaya had heard about but never imagined herself playing. The newly married couple was required to find a specific ring hidden inside the bowl. According to tradition, the one who found it was said to hold the upper hand in the marriage.

Aanaya sat there nervously.

Surrounded by faces that were still unfamiliar—people she barely knew, yet who were now her family. Laughter, whispers, and excitement buzzed all around her, but inside, she felt oddly alone.

The children, however, were thrilled.

They sat eagerly around their chachu and chachi—Arvind and Aanaya—clapping, whispering, and bouncing in excitement, waiting for the game to begin.

Nalini, Arvind's taiji, stepped forward with a playful smile. She held up several rings, deliberately confusing the couple by showing them all.

"This is the ring you have to find," she said, displaying it clearly, before dropping it into the bowl along with the others and a few sacred items.

She stepped back, raised her hand dramatically, and announced,
"It will be best out of five."

The room quieted slightly.

"On my count," she continued, eyes sparkling,
"Three... two... one... go!"

Arvind, his expression unreadable as ever, immediately rolled up his sleeves and dipped his hand into the bowl with calm confidence.

Aanaya hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Then she nervously slipped her hand into the cold mixture, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to feel for the distinct design of the ring.

The water rippled.

Her hand brushed against his—once.

Her breath caught.

Again.

Her heartbeat surged violently every time their fingers touched, sending a strange warmth through her chest. She tried to focus, forcing herself to ignore the sensation, concentrating only on identifying the ring by touch.

Before she could fully process anything—

Arvind withdrew his hand.

He straightened calmly and handed the ring to his tauji.

The room erupted.

Cheers, claps, whistles—everyone from Arvind's side burst into excitement. His siblings, his sister, his three cousin brothers, and other relatives crowded around him, patting his back enthusiastically.

"Of course he won!"
"Just like the rest of us!"
"Another Kulashresth victory!"

They laughed proudly, celebrating as though this small game were a badge of honor. Most of the men in the family had won this ritual during their own weddings, and Arvind winning meant he had upheld the family's so-called tradition.

Meanwhile, those who had married into the family—his brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law—exchanged disappointed looks.

They sided silently with Aanaya.

Some shook their heads, others made playful grimaces, clearly unhappy with the outcome but saying nothing aloud.

Aanaya sat still.

Her hand slowly slipped out of the bowl, droplets of water falling back softly. She forced a faint smile onto her lips, even as a strange heaviness settled in her chest.

She didn't know why—but for the first time since stepping into this new life, she felt the weight of what it truly meant to belong to a family where traditions spoke louder than emotions.

Nalini Taiji leaned forward once more and carefully dropped the ring back into the bowl, stirring the mixture just enough to ensure it disappeared beneath the milky surface, hidden among the petals and sacred items.

This time, however, fate shifted.

The moment Aanaya slipped her hand into the bowl, her fingers brushed against something solid.

The ring.

It was right there—exactly where her hand landed.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Without hesitation, she closed her fingers around it and withdrew her hand, lifting it up for everyone to see.

A collective murmur rippled through the crowd.

She had won.

This time, it was Arvind's side of the family that wore faintly disappointed expressions, while the ones who had married into the family smiled in quiet satisfaction. A few exchanged knowing glances, clearly pleased.

The game continued.

Once again, the ring disappeared into the bowl.

This time, Arvind won.

Then again, Aanaya.

Slowly, the tally evened out.

The atmosphere grew tense.

It was nearly a tie now—and this final round would decide the winner.

Everyone leaned forward instinctively, breath held, anticipation thick in the air.

Nalini Taiji dropped the ring for the last time and stepped back.

Arvind's cousins began cheering loudly for him, chanting his name with confidence. On the other side, quiet encouragement rose for Aanaya—soft smiles, subtle nods, unspoken hope.

They both lowered their hands into the bowl simultaneously.

Water rippled violently.

Both searched, fingers brushing petals, rings, sacred threads—

Then Aanaya felt it.

The ring slid beneath her fingers.

She caught it.

A small, triumphant smile curved her lips—subtle but undeniable.

But before she could pull her hand out of the bowl—

A hand closed around hers.

Firm.

Restraining.

Her heart slammed violently against her chest.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her gaze through the light net veil draped over her face.

Arvind was staring at her.

His eyes were cold.

Dangerously so.

Unyielding.

His grip tightened beneath the water—a silent command, unmistakable in its intent.

Let go.

Everyone around them remained oblivious, except those who had played this game before. They knew. This tactic was not new—it was the unspoken rule among those determined to win.

Her fingers clenched tighter around the ring.

She refused.

For a fleeting second, it felt as though time itself had slowed.

Then she felt it.

His thumb brushed against the delicate skin of her wrist—right where her pulse throbbed wildly.

Her breath faltered.

The sudden intimacy, the unexpected touch, sent a jolt through her system. Her grip weakened involuntarily.

He seized the moment.

In one swift movement, Arvind pulled the ring from her loosened hold and withdrew his hand, lifting it high.

"I win," he announced calmly.

Cheers erupted instantly.

Laughter, claps, and victorious shouts filled the room.

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips—so subtle that no one else noticed.

Except her.

Aanaya exhaled slowly, her shoulders sinking as the reality settled in.

She had almost won.

Almost.

And in that moment, she finally understood what upper hand truly meant.

It wasn't about luck.

It wasn't about speed.

It was dominance.

And even when she stood on the verge of victory, his control had turned the outcome in his favor.

The game was over.

He had won.

And deep down, Aanaya knew—this wasn't just about a ring.

It was a warning.

The next game was set almost immediately.

Both of them dried their hands carefully as a servant wiped the brass bowl and carried it away, clearing the space between them. The family shifted closer, curiosity renewed, whispers passing through the circle.

Nalini taiji stepped forward once again, her voice carrying authority and tradition.

"Now," she announced, "this game decides the money manager of the family."

The murmurs quieted.

"The one who is able to open every finger and the thumb of the other person," she continued, "is traditionally considered the decision-maker—the one who rules over finances."

She paused deliberately before adding,

"And remember—only the man is allowed to use one hand. The woman, if needed, may use both."

Her eyes moved between them.

Arvind gave a casual nod, completely unfazed.

Aanaya nodded too—but hers was hesitant, her fingers curling into her palms unconsciously.

"So," Nalini Taiji declared, "first, it is Aanaya's turn."

Arvind picked up the sacred item placed beside him and closed his hand into a firm fist, resting it calmly in front of him. His posture was relaxed, almost indifferent—as if the outcome was already decided.

Aanaya swallowed.

She reached out slowly, her smaller hand looking almost fragile against his broad, strong one. She tried to open his fist using one hand at first, pulling gently at his fingers.

Nothing moved.

Not even a fraction.

A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she tried again, this time with both hands, careful not to scratch him with her nails. She applied more pressure, her brows knitting in concentration.

Still nothing.

He was immovable.

"Try one finger at a time," Kavita—his eldest sister-in-law and his eldest cousin brother's wife—advised gently.

Aanaya nodded and focused all her effort on his forefinger. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled, her arms straining slightly.

Seconds passed.

Then half a minute.

Then an entire minute.

His finger did not budge even an inch.

Her shoulders drooped slowly as realization settled in.

She had lost.

A few sympathetic smiles were directed toward her, while others nodded knowingly—this was expected.

"Now," Nalini Taiji announced, "it's Arvind's turn."

Aanaya tried her best to prepare herself. She clenched her fists tightly, pressing her fingers into her palms with all the strength she could muster, bracing herself.

Arvind reached forward.

He didn't rush.

He didn't strain.

With one single hand—and barely any visible effort—he pried her fingers open one by one. Her resistance melted instantly, as though her strength had never existed in the first place.

In seconds, her fist lay completely open.

The contrast was undeniable.

It wasn't just a loss.

It was a complete defeat.

Cheers erupted from his side of the family, laughter following naturally. Some shook their heads in amusement, others clapped approvingly.

Aanaya lowered her gaze, heat rushing to her face—not from embarrassment alone, but from the sudden, sharp understanding of what this game symbolized.

Strength.

Control.

Authority.

She had lost in the worst way possible.

And once again, the message was clear.

In this house—
He ruled.

After the games concluded, Arvind and Aanaya were led toward the small temple situated at the back of the mansion.

The temple stood quietly, tucked away from the grandeur of the main house—ancient stone walls softened by time, faint incense lingering in the air. 

They prayed there together, sitting side by side for nearly an hour as the pandit chanted sacred hymns in a steady, rhythmic voice. Bells chimed softly at intervals, echoing through the stillness.

Aanaya folded her hands obediently, her head bowed, repeating the prayers as instructed—though her mind wandered more than once. 

The exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on her body, her muscles aching beneath layers of fabric and jewelry.

When the pooja finally ended, they returned inside.

Aanaya remained downstairs to complete a few final rituals, guided silently from one step to another. 

Arvind, on the other hand, headed upstairs to bathe. Fatigue clung to him visibly—his shoulders tense, his jaw set.

 Irritation flickered openly across his face, the long night and endless ceremonies finally taking their toll.

Once Aanaya finished the last ritual, Shobha approached her with brisk authority.

"Bahu," she said curtly, "now go and take a bath and get ready. Today is your first rasoi."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.

Aanaya stood there for a second, words dying on her lips.

Kavita and Prisha quickly came to her side. Without much conversation, they helped her climb the stairs, carefully lifting the heavy lehenga as she moved step by step. 

The weight of the fabric pulled at her waist, her legs trembling from exhaustion.

When they reached the corridor, they stopped outside Arvind's bedroom.

"We need to go manage things downstairs," Kavita said hurriedly. "You go inside."

Before Aanaya could say anything, both women were already moving away, leaving her standing alone.

Outside his room.

Her heart began to race.

Her mind flooded with thoughts—too many, too fast. What would happen now? What should she say? What if he was still inside? What if he wasn't?

Her palms grew clammy as she stood there, staring at the door as though it might answer her questions.

Taking a slow, shaky breath, she finally gathered the courage to reach out.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle.

She pushed the door open.

It creaked softly.

The room was empty.

A wave of relief washed over her instantly, loosening the tight knot in her chest. She exhaled slowly, almost shakily, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in hours.

She stepped inside cautiously and closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing faintly in the quiet room.

For now—
She was alone.

Arvind's room was nothing like what Aanaya had imagined.

It was luxurious—but not in the loud, ostentatious way she was used to. Instead, it carried a restrained elegance, defined by simplicity and precision.

The entire room followed a black-and-white theme. Clean lines. Sharp contrasts. Nothing excessive.

Long glass windows stretched across one side of the room, offering an uninterrupted view of the Aravali mountain range. 

Beyond the mountains lay open fields—vast, green, and untouched—rolling endlessly into the distance. 

The sight was breathtaking, almost unreal, as though the world outside existed in perfect stillness.

Soft sunlight filtered into the room through a sheer canopy, diffusing the light just enough to make the space bright without being harsh or overwhelming. It was balanced. Controlled. Perfect.

Near the windows stood a large, comfortable-looking couch, positioned deliberately to face the view. 

Beside it was a sleek table with a black laptop placed neatly at its center—no wires tangled, no papers scattered, no signs of clutter.

A plush carpet lay spread on the opposite side of the room.

The bed stood immaculately made, pillows aligned with precision.

 A tall mirror reflected the space back at her, paired with a minimal dressing table and a single chair pushed neatly beneath it. 

Behind one of the walls, she assumed, lay the attached bathroom and walk-in closet—hidden seamlessly, preserving the room's uncluttered appearance.

There was nothing extra.

Nothing out of place.

It was as though the room contained only what was necessary—and nothing more.

Usually, in a wedding house, rooms were chaos. Clothes tossed over chairs, jewelry boxes left open, gifts stacked carelessly, random items scattered wherever there was space.

But not here.

Not even one object lay outside its designated place. Everything seemed to be stored away neatly inside the closets, unseen, untouched.

The contrast struck her sharply.

Her own room flashed through her mind—clothes draped over chairs, books scattered across the dressing table, makeup spread over the study table, food wrappers abandoned on the bed, the television playing endlessly while she lounged on the couch.

Her life had always been a comfortable mess.

This room was discipline.

Order.

Control.

Aanaya swallowed slowly.

For the first time since stepping into this marriage, a sobering realization settled deep within her.

Living with him...
was not going to be easy.

She let out a slow, exhausted sigh and walked toward the tall mirror and dressing table.

Standing before her reflection, she carefully began unpinning her veil—one pin at a time. Each tiny metallic click echoed softly in the quiet room. When the last pin came free, she let the heavy dupatta slide from her shoulders and fall onto the floor, pooling at her feet like a surrendered burden.

Her hands moved next to her ears.

She removed the heavy earrings, wincing slightly as relief washed over her. They had hurt like hell, pulling at her ears the entire night. She placed them carefully on the dressing table, rubbing her earlobes gently.

Then came the nose ring.

She carefully unhooked the fake rose ring that had pinched her skin mercilessly all night. The moment it came off, she exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath as she set it aside.

Her fingers reached for the necklace next.

But no matter how hard she tried, the knot refused to loosen.

That makeup-wali aunty had tied it as if it were meant to stay permanently. To make matters worse, most of the jewelry was real gold—heavy, cold against her skin, weighing her down further.

She tugged again, frustration rising.

And then—

Click.

The sound of the door unlocking sliced through the silence.

Her breath hitched instantly.

He's here.

Her fingers froze mid-motion.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, she lifted her eyes to the mirror.

And there he stood.

Bare chest and defined abs on full display, water trailing down his skin as droplets slid from his collarbone to his torso. A towel was draped loosely around his waist, another in his hands as he rubbed his wet hair, eyes closed—completely unaware, completely unguarded.

For a moment, it felt like he had forgotten.

Forgotten that he was married now.

Forgotten that he wasn't alone.

With practiced, effortless steps, he walked toward the dressing table—only to halt abruptly.

He felt it.

Her presence.

The shift in the air.

He stopped right behind her.

Too close.

Aanaya's breathing grew shallow.

Her grip tightened around the necklace instinctively, knuckles whitening as her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She could feel his presence without touching him—his warmth, his height, the quiet authority he carried even in silence.

The mirror reflected them both.

Her—adorned, vulnerable, frozen.

Him—still, towering, unreadable.

His single word cut through the silence like a blade.

"Move."

Cold. Flat. Detached.

Her heart sank a little—not because she had expected tenderness, but because she had hoped, foolishly perhaps, for something softer. 

Still, she did not dare argue. She stepped aside quietly, making space for him, her movements small and obedient, as if she were afraid even the rustle of her lehenga might irritate him.

As she stood there, trying to steady her breathing, she noticed something she hadn't before. 

His room—no, their room—was not just minimalist; it was meticulously designed. 

Every wall concealed storage, seamlessly integrated, invisible unless one knew exactly where to touch. 

He pressed his palm against a particular spot on the wall, and a panel slid open smoothly like a hidden drawer. 

He took out a bottle of hair oil, applied it to his damp hair with practiced ease, and closed the compartment as if it had never existed.

Then, with the same casual precision, he pressed another section of the wall—on her side.

A different drawer slid open, revealing a neatly placed hair dryer.

She stared without realizing she was staring.

He noticed.

"What?" he asked, his tone sharp, eyes flicking toward her reflection in the mirror. "Don't you have to get ready?"

She snapped out of her trance immediately. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she dropped her gaze, nodding quickly, almost too quickly. Her fingers returned to the stubborn knot at the back of her neck, fumbling with it in nervous haste.

The knot refused to budge.

She swallowed.

Suddenly, she felt movement behind her.

Too close.

Her breath hitched as his presence enveloped her space. He leaned forward slightly, and before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she felt the faint brush of his breath against the nape of her neck. Her spine stiffened instinctively.

Then—unexpectedly—she felt his nose graze her skin as he bent lower.

Her entire body went still.

Her pulse thundered beneath her skin, every nerve screaming awareness. She could neither turn nor step away, frozen between shock and an unfamiliar, unsettling anticipation.

Without a word, he leaned in further and caught the knot of the necklace between his teeth, loosening it with deliberate care. The light scrape of his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her, one she could not control, no matter how hard she tried.

The knot gave way.

Her necklace loosened, the weight easing from her neck.

He straightened immediately, stepping back as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just unraveled more than a piece of jewelry.