Suyash woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom and painting the tangled silk sheets in shades of honey and rose. The distant sound of waves whispered through the open terrace doors, carrying the salt-tinged breeze of the Arabian Sea. For a long moment, he simply lay there, his body still humming with the residual energy of the divine authority he had wielded hours before.
The God Set had worked. He could feel it in his bones—a fundamental shift in the fabric of existence, as if the universe had exhaled a breath it had held for millennia.
Beside him, Babita stirred, her naked body pressing against his side. Her dark hair spilled across his shoulder, and her hand rested possessively on his chest, even in sleep.
On his other side, Daya's thick, warm body was curled up against him. Her soft breath tickled his shoulder, and one of her heavy breasts pressed against his ribs. Anjali's head rested on his chest. Her jasmine-scented hair spilled across his skin. Her lips were slightly parted in peaceful sleep.
At the foot of the massive bed, Madhavi and Komal were tangled together—Madhavi's small, firm body nestled against Komal's generous curves and their intertwined limbs spoke of lovers finding comfort in each other. Anita lay at the edge of the bed, as always, her back to the door. Her toned body was relaxed yet watchful, even in sleep. One hand reached back to touch his ankle—her silent way of staying connected.
His wives. His family.
He reached for the remote on the carved wooden nightstand and turned on the wall screen, keeping the volume low. A news anchor appeared—a woman with a warm smile—discussing a political story.
"In other news, the polygamous union of business tycoon Vikram Rathore and his three wives was celebrated yesterday at their Mumbai estate. The Rathores are among the many prominent families embracing India's ancient tradition of plural marriage.Historians note that this tradition has been practiced honorably since Vedic times."
Suyash's breath caught. It worked. It actually worked.
The anchor continued, her tone casual as if discussing the weather: "Polygamous households now make up approximately fifteen percent of Indian marriages, according to the latest census data, with numbers steadily rising among younger generations who view the practice as a return to traditional values..."
He switched channels. A historical documentary showed ancient temple carvings depicting kings with multiple wives. The narrator explained how polygamy had been a respected institution throughout Indian history, celebrated in scripture and law. A legal drama featured a storyline about a woman negotiating her position as a second wife; the dialogue treated the subject as mundane as any other marital discussion.
It was seamless. Perfect. It was as if the world had always been this way.
Only Suyash knew the truth.
The women woke gradually, their bodies stirring against his. Babita was first, her dark eyes fluttering open and her painted lips curving into a lazy smile.
"Good morning, husband," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "You're awake early."
"Couldn't sleep," he replied, which was true.
Daya stirred next, her thick body stretching like a contented cat. "Mmm. What's on the screen?"
"News. They're talking about polygamous marriages. Apparently, a tycoon just celebrated his twentieth anniversary with his three wives."
Komal sat up suddenly, her enormous breasts swaying and her wild hair forming a dark halo around her head. "Three wives?" That's nothing. You have six. We should have a proper anniversary celebration, too."
The other women were waking up now. Anjali's soft eyes opened. Madhavi pushed herself up on her elbows. Anita turned from her position at the edge to face the screen.
'A proper wedding would be nice,' Anjali said dreamily. Her voice was soft and thoughtful. "I mean, we've been living as husband and wife, but we've never had the formal ceremony with all the legal registrations and family blessings. My grandmother always said a marriage isn't complete without the pheras."
"True," Madhavi agreed, nodding. "Even in polygamous families, each wife gets her own ceremony. It's tradition. Bhide's great-grandfather married his three wives in separate rituals. The family still talks about how beautiful the third one was."
"Jethalal's uncle had a grand wedding for his second wife," Daya added, her eyes brightening. "I remember attending it when I was a girl. The mehendi ceremony went on for hours. We should have something like that. Not rushed. Not hidden. A proper celebration."
Suyash listened, marveling at how seamlessly the new reality had become part of their memories. They spoke of polygamous traditions as if they had grown up with them, which they had in this rewritten world.
"Tipendra could be the ring bearer," Daya continued, warming to the idea. "He's old enough now to understand. He'd be honored."
"And Sonu would make a beautiful flower girl," Madhavi added. "She loves dressing up."
Komal grinned wickedly. "I call dibs on the most revealing lehenga. If we're doing this properly, I want to look like a goddess."
"You always look like a goddess," Babita said dryly, but she was smiling. "I want a red Banarasi sari. Traditional. Timeless."
"Gold for me," Anjali said softly. "Like the one from Villa Suhag. It felt sacred."
Anita, who was still by the window, finally spoke up. "First, legal registration. Then the ceremony. I want all the paperwork in order—inheritance rights, medical authority, and so on. Romantic gestures are lovely, but I don't want any of us to be vulnerable if something happens to you."
Suyash met her dark eyes. "Agreed. Legal first. Then we'll plan the celebration you all deserve."
The women exchanged excited, happy glances, utterly at ease with the idea of formalizing their plural marriage. In this world, it was normal. Expected, even.
"Soon?" Daya asked hopefully.
"Soon," Suyash promised. "I'll have JARVIS prepare all the legal documents. You'll each be registered as my wife, with all the rights and protections that entails. Then, we'll plan the ceremony however you want. However you want it."
A warm silence settled over the room. Then Komal's grin turned wicked.
"Good. Now that the future is settled—" She pushed Suyash onto his back and straddled his hips, her wet heat pressing against his hardening cock. "—let's celebrate the present."
------
Komal sank onto him with a guttural moan, her head thrown back and her enormous breasts bouncing with the force of her descent. "Ah—fuck—yes—"
The sensation was overwhelming—her tight, wet heat enveloped him completely, and her inner walls fluttered with anticipation. She was always ready and hungry, and this morning was no exception.
"Someone's eager," Babita observed, settling beside them on the massive bed. Her dark eyes gleamed as she watched Komal begin to move, rolling her hips in a slow, grinding rhythm.
"Can you blame me?" Komal gasped between thrusts. "We're going to be legal wives. Proper wives. That deserves a proper celebration." Ah—harder—"
Suyash gripped her thick hips and thrust up into her, meeting her grinding with sharp, deep strokes. The wet, rhythmic, obscene sound of their joining filled the master bedroom. Komal's enormous breasts swayed with each impact; her dark nipples were tight and glistening.
"Yes—yes—just like that—" Her head fell back, her wild hair cascading down her spine. "Fuck! I'm already close—"
Daya moved behind Komal, her warm hands sliding up her back and cupping her breasts from behind. Her thumbs found Komal's nipples and rolled them in slow circles. "Let go, sister. We've got you."
The added sensation pushed Komal over the edge. She shattered with a scream, her body convulsing and her inner walls clamping down on Suyash like a fist. "AHHH—FUCK—YES—"
Her orgasm triggered a chain reaction. Babita pulled Komal off of Suyash, eliciting a whimper of protest, and took her place. She sank onto his still-hard cock with a satisfied moan.
"My turn." She rode him with fierce precision, her perfect body undulating and her painted lips parted. "You're going to marry us legally, and we're going to have the biggest family this island has ever seen."
She came with a sharp cry, her nails raking his chest and her body shuddering.
Daya was next, gentle but insistent. She positioned herself over him and sank down slowly, savoring every inch. Her thick body was warm and soft, and her movements were tender compared to the others' fierce ones.
"I love you," she whispered, her eyes glistening. "I love our family. I love that you're making it official." Ah—oh—"
Her orgasm was quiet but intense, her body clenching around him as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Anjali followed, her soft body settling over him with reverent grace. She didn't ride hard or fast; she simply moved with him, matching his rhythm, their eyes locked.
"You gave me a home," she breathed. "You gave me a family. Now, you're giving me a marriage. I don't know how to thank you."
"Just love me," he said. "That's all I need."
She came with a soft cry, her body trembling, and collapsed against his chest.
Madhavi was fierce as always. She pushed him onto his back and mounted him with determined energy, her small body moving with surprising strength.
"We're going to have a real wedding," she gasped. "With Sonu as the flower girl. With all of us in beautiful clothes. With everything we deserve—"
Her orgasm hit hard, her body convulsing and a sharp cry escaping her lips.
Anita was last. She approached slowly, her dark eyes unreadable and her toned body moving with controlled grace. She didn't mount him. Instead, she lay back on the bed and pulled him over her.
"Take me," she said quietly. "Slowly. I want to feel every moment."
He entered her gently, their foreheads touching and their breath mingling. He moved with deliberate slowness, each thrust deep and measured. Their eyes never broke contact.
"You're mine," she whispered. "Legally. Officially. Finally."
"And you're mine."
She came quietly—a soft, shuddering release—her body trembling and her hands gripping his shoulders. He followed her over the edge, spilling inside her with a groan as his own release finally claimed him.
They lay tangled together on the massive bed, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. The morning sun was higher now, filling the room with golden light.
—
"So," Komal said, her voice lazy yet mischievous. Her naked body sprawled across the silk sheets. One hand idly traced patterns on Suyash's thigh. "What's next? More celebrations?"
"Breakfast, I think," Daya murmured, already half-asleep. "I could cook something. We have those fresh mangoes from the garden..."
But Anita had not relaxed. She sat on the edge of the bed with her back straight and her dark eyes fixed on Suyash with an intensity that cut through the postcoital haze. She had pulled a thin silk robe over her shoulders—her version of armor—and wore the controlled, analytical expression she usually wore when managing the island's affairs.
"The girl," she said flatly. "The one whose virginity you took last night: Rhea Mehra."
The room stilled.
Komal's hand paused on his thigh. Babita's lazy smile faded into sharp interest. Daya sat up slowly, replacing her maternal warmth with alert curiosity. Anjali's soft eyes widened. Madhavi propped herself up on her elbows, her dark gaze flickering between Anita and Suyash.
Suyash met Anita's gaze without flinching. Of course she knew. As the COO of the island's public domain, she had access to JARVIS's security feeds, guest registries, and incident reports. Nothing happened on Suyash Island without her knowledge. A drunken heiress losing her virginity to the island's owner in a penthouse suite would certainly not have escaped her notice.
"Rhea Mehra," Anita repeated, her voice cool. "Daughter of Abhi Mehra. Twin sister of Prachi Arora, though neither knows it. She arrived on campus three weeks ago. She celebrated her twentieth birthday at Sarpam last night. She left the club with you and her friend, Tanya. Security flagged the incident."
The other wives exchanged glances. Komal's grin was slow and delighted. "You deflowered a rock star's daughter? On her birthday? Nice."
"It wasn't planned," Suyash replied evenly. "She approached me. She was drunk and desperate to lose her virginity after her friends mocked her. I...indulged."
"And now?" Babita's voice was sharp, but not accusatory. "Was it a one-time thing, or are you planning to bring her into the family?"
Suyash looked at his wives—his six women, his foundation, the ones who had chosen him before the world changed. They deserved honesty.
"Not just her," he admitted. "I want her sister, too: Prachi Arora. She's arriving today on a scholarship. She's gentle and resilient, and she carries the weight of her mother's sacrifices. I want their mother, Pragya, too. She's coming later to reunite with her daughters. She's strong, grieving, and utterly alone.
Silence.
Komal broke it with a low whistle. "Mother and daughters. Ambitious."
"You've been researching them," Anita said. It wasn't a question. "JARVIS flagged your queries: Mehra family dossier. Psychological profiles. Financial records. You're not just indulging in a one-night whim. You're strategizing."
"I want," Suyash corrected. "I want Rhea's fire. She's broken underneath that arrogance and is desperate to be loved. I want Prachi's resilience. She's been ground down by life, yet she refuses to break. I want Pragya's strength. She lost one daughter and was separated from two others, yet she still fights for her family. I want to give them what you all have: a home. A family. A place where they're seen and valued."
The women absorbed this. Daya's expression softened first. She, who had been neglected for years, understood the hunger to be wanted. Anjali's eyes glistened with empathy. She, who had been broken by betrayal, recognized the healing Suyash offered. Madhavi nodded slowly. She, who had fought to keep her daughter, understood Pragya's battle.
Babita's lips curved. "Three more. The Mehra women: Mother and daughters." She shook her head, but there was no jealousy in it, only wonder. "You never do anything by halves, do you?"
"They're a package," Suyash said. "Not intentionally, but they are. Their stories are intertwined. Healing one means healing all."
"And you want to be the one who heals them," Anita observed.
"I want to be the one who loves them. The healing is their choice."
Anita was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. 'The Mehra entourage arrives today: It's Abhi's concert residency. Security will be tight—paparazzi, fans, and the usual chaos. If you're serious about pursuing them, you'll need to navigate carefully. Alia Mehra, Abhi's sister, is a manipulator. She'll see your interest and try to exploit it. Tanu Sharma, Abhi's ex, is also in the entourage. She's insecure and transactional but not beyond redemption.
"You've already assessed them.
"I'm the COO. It's my job." Anita's dark eyes met his. "And you're my husband. It's also my job to protect what we've built. If these women join us, they're joining our family, not just your bed. That means they need to be worthy of it."
"They are," Suyash said with quiet conviction. "They just don't know it yet."
Komal stretched luxuriously, her enormous breasts swaying. "Well, then. Bring them home. Introduce us. If they pass the vibe check—" she grinned—"we'll welcome them properly. The kind of welcome only we can give."
"Agreed," Babita said. "But we have to meet them first. I want to see this 'fire' and 'resilience' for myself."
"And the mother," Daya added. "Pragya. If she's been through as much as you say, she needs sisters, not just a husband."
Anjali nodded softly. "Family should be chosen carefully. But if you're set on them, Suyash, then our hearts will open too."
Madhavi squeezed his hand. "Just promise us one thing."
"Anything."
"Don't forget us. When the new brides arrive and the family grows, don't forget the six women who loved you first. Who chose you before the world made it easy."
Suyash looked at each of the women in turn: Babita's fierce beauty; Daya's warm generosity; Anjali's soft devotion; Madhavi's adventurous spirit; Komal's wild passion; and Anita's guarded yet deep love.
"Never," he said, his voice rough. "You are my foundation. My heart. Everything else is built on what we created together. I could never forget you."
Anita rose from the bed, her silk robe whispering against her skin. She crossed to the window and gazed out at the island—their island, their sanctuary.
"Then go get your Mehra women," she said quietly. "We'll be here. And when you bring them home..." She glanced back, a rare smile curving her lips. "We'll give them a proper welcome. The kind only this family can give."
The promise hung in the air—wicked, warm, and utterly accepting.
Suyash smiled. The world had changed overnight. His wives knew about Rhea, Prachi, and Pragya, not through mysterious intuition but through Anita's vigilance and his honesty. There were no secrets here. Only trust.
Soon, his family would grow.
—