(Kruthi's POV)
With the one last look at myself in the mirror, I was all set to go downstairs.
Makeup- minimal, check
jewellery- light, check
saree drape- perfect
Hairstyle- open with neat waves, check.
I sighed in a victory.
A faint smile touched my lips.
The saree…
Yes, I was wearing the one Badi Dadi had sent.
But my fingers unconsciously brushed against the fabric, recalling the other one… the one he had kept aside.
Such a small thing.
So insignificant.
And yet—
It lingered.
I frowned slightly at my own thoughts and tapped my forehead lightly.
"Don't be stupid, Kruthi."
He had already made it clear.
This was an arrangement.Not a relationship.
Nothing more.
I inhaled once, steadying myself, and finally reached for the door.
Time to go downstairs.
Just as I expected, everyone was already gathered downstairs.
Not because they wanted to.
But because it was Badi Dadi's hukum.
His huge joint family filled the living area—uncles, aunties, cousins… faces I barely knew, yet people I was now supposed to live with.
Great.
I froze for a second at the top of the staircase.
"I have to live here now…"
The thought sank in, heavier than I expected.
And then—
chhan… chhan…
The soft sound of my anklets echoed in the hall as I took the first step down.
Bad idea.
A very bad idea.
Every single head turned toward me.
Perfect.
If I had known these anklets would announce my existence like a public broadcast, I would have thrown them out of the window.
I kept walking anyway, keeping my chin slightly lifted.
Let them look.
I wasn't the one who should feel uncomfortable here.
I lowered my eyes slightly. Something close to nervousness and perhaps...shyness.
Slowly, I looked up again.
The rest of the family stood there like unwilling spectators, their expressions forced, restrained.
As if they were present…
but not accepting.
Then my eyes met Naina.
Calm, soft, accepting.
I still remembered how she referred me as "Bhabhi" before, when she came to give the saree.
At least…
someone didn't look at me like I was a mistake.
And then I remembered,
My own husband doesn't accept me completely.
This marriage wasn't real.
It was never meant to be.
No promises.
No emotions.
Just a deal.
And I—
was simply a part of it.
Slowly—
his sharp eyes met mine.
Not reassuring. Not appreciative. Just… assessing.
As if I was being silently evaluated.
Not as a person. But as a presence.
Was I composed enough?
Presentable enough?
Worth standing beside him?
His gaze lingered for a second too long—
not wandering, not inappropriate—
just intense.
Uncomfortably precise.
I shifted slightly as I stepped down the stairs, suddenly aware of every movement I made under that scrutiny.
And then—
my heel slipped.
A sharp gasp caught in my throat as my balance gave in.
My eyes shut instinctively.
I braced myself—
for the fall. For the embarrassment. For the whispers that would follow.
But instead—
warm arms caught me.
Firm. Quick. Steady.
A breath I didn't realize I was holding left me all at once.
I opened my eyes, still shaken.
It was not him but.....Naina.
"Bhabhi, dhyaan se… aapko lag jaati toh!" Her voice carried genuine concern.
I gave her a small smile, still trying to steady myself.
A silent thank you.
But somewhere deep inside—
a question rose.
Why did I expect him?
Of course he wouldn't be there.
He had already made it clear.
I wasn't someone to be held.
Just… someone to be used.
A pawn.
Not a priority.
I blinked quickly, forcing back the tears before they could betray me.
He didn't care.
And yet— why did it still sting?
I finally took the last step.
And that's when— he moved.
Right in front of me. His hand lifted, mid-air.
Waiting.
Not offering comfort.
Not warmth.
Just… expectation.
I stared at it for a brief second.
Then slowly— placed my hand in his.
My soft fingers against his calloused grip. A contrast I couldn't ignore.
A single clap echoed in the hall.
Then another.
And within seconds—
the entire family followed.
Applause.
Loud. Formal. Forced.
As if they were witnessing something worth celebrating.
When in reality—
it was just another performance.
And we were playing our parts perfectly.
(Vivaan's POV)
The soft sound of anklets reached before she did, drawing attention I would've preferred she avoided. Careless. In this house, attention wasn't neutral—it was judgment. And then she appeared at the top of the staircase. The room stilled, not out of acceptance but quiet scrutiny. I didn't look at them. I looked at her. Her posture was straight, chin slightly lifted, eyes alert—cautious, but not weak. Good. At least she understood where she was standing.
My gaze moved with purpose, not to admire but to assess. The saree was properly draped, minimal jewellery, no unnecessary display. She had maintained that decorum. That alone set her apart. As she began descending, I noticed the slight hesitation in her steps—subtle enough for others to miss, but not me. She felt the weight of every eye in that room, and yet she kept walking. That was… noteworthy.
Then her heel slipped.
It was barely a second, but enough. I was close. Fast enough to catch her. My hand almost moved—almost. My fingers twitched, but I didn't step forward in time. Naina reached her first.
My jaw tightened.
Not at her fall—but at my delay.
Unacceptable.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the irritation down. She steadied herself, thanking Naina softly, but for a brief moment—her eyes searched. Not the room. Not the family.
Me.
I knew that look. Expectation.
It was unnecessary. Dangerous.
I looked away first.
Better she learns early—this isn't that kind of story.
By the time she reached the last step, I moved forward, this time without hesitation. Too many eyes. Too many assumptions waiting to form. I raised my hand between us, a silent instruction rather than an offer. She paused, just for a fraction of a second, before placing her hand in mine.
Soft. Warm.
I tightened my grip slightly—not to comfort, but to establish control.
A single clap echoed, followed by many. Applause filled the hall—loud, hollow, performative. I ignored it. My focus remained on her. Her fingers were tense, uncertain, but steady. She wasn't pulling away, nor leaning in. Just… holding on.
Observing.
Learning.
Good.
Because in this house, hesitation costs far more than mistakes—and she would have to learn that quickly
I forwarded my hand at her. A silent command that she had to accept it.
And she did.
Her small hand perfectly fitted my larger one.
Suddenly-
My gaze snapped when the entire family suddenly started applauding.
What was there to be applauded about?
Her fall?
Her mistake?
"According to the list of rasams, pehle bhabhi ka griha pravesh hoga." My own sister Naina said excitedly.
What was she ACTUALLY happy about?
She rushed to the kitchen to bring the material maybe.
I glanced at Kruthi, who was standing beside me now. Slowly, in almost a whisper I said "Fix your pallu. It slipped slightly when you were coming downstairs."
(Kruthi's POV)
My gaze met his at the sudden whisper.
My pallu?
yes.
How can I be so careless.
It must have been disturbed when I was about to fall.
I slowly removed my hand from his and fixed my pallu, before resting my hand in his hand again.
I looked at him again.
Surprised.
He noticed. When I thought he wouldn't do.
But he did.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Naina. A bright smile on her face, a genuine happiness.
"Bhabhi, chalooo" She insisted and held my hand taking me out of the mansion.
I felt a sudden emptiness inside me when his hand left mine.
I didn't know why. It was confusing. It was thoughtless.
Once stood outside, she placed the rice filled Kalash on the floor. I had to hit it gently with my feet. I was hesitant. I looked up at her, noticing her unwavering smile and then at Kalash.
Vivaan came at my side and whispered in a low command. "Do it, we don't have the entire day."
I looked up at him, his gaze was irritated, impatient.
Slowly, I bent and tilted the kalash with my hands.
The rice fell on the floor. The ritual was done.
Naina frowned, confused.
"W...woh ann ko paer nahi lagate." I explained myself to Naina softly. (We shouldn't touch our feet to grains and food)
Finally, I entered the house and was approached by badi dadi ji, who was on her wheelchair.
"Bade pyaare sanskaar hai tumhare. Sada Suhagan raho." She blessed. A warm smile on her lips.
(Your manners are appreciated my child. May you always be happily married.)
Always? ofcourse, there was not due date of the contract.
Happily married? maybe.
I glanced at Vivaan again and he was...
already staring at me.