Love : A Wicked Game

Chapter 19 : We Are Not Done Yet

The Rajveer Palace never looked so alive. Adorned with wedding lights and sparkling decor, it's walls echoed back the chatter and laughter of it's guests. Samaira's relatives, both from her father's and mother's side, were present there as the Mehendi ceremony took place. The invitation had been sent 10 days prior and since her relatives lived in different cities of the country, they started arriving beforehand. Although, Rajveer had offered they could take the guests with them to wherever Samaira wanted in the world but she had plainly refused saying she would get married in the country and the city itself.

What difference the place made anyway when getting married to him was the the fixed outcome ?

The Mehendi ceremony had just ended a while ago. Some guests had retired to their rooms as it was already half past 10 in the night, while some were dispersed on the floors, sipping on tea or coffee and conversing lightly. Wearing a sage green lehenga blouse, her hair half tied half open, she was seated on the sofa, mehendi covering her hands upto the forearms, and was staring at the stage backdrop that had #SamaiRaj written in golden letters just like the invitation cards.

“Oh the design is lovely!” - Sonia cooed when the designer showed them the sample of the card design.

Samaira's eyes fell on the golden letters on the front of the royal looking card #SamaiRaj. Rajveer ran his fingers over it with a smile and her jaws clenched because she had no idea that their names were going be combined.

“You are mocking that I end on you, isn't it ?” - she hissed, crossing her arms.

He smiled and shook his head. “No. I'm taking pride that I start from you.” - he whispered, rendering her speechless.

“You will burn holes in it.” - Rajveer teased, dropping beside her on the sofa and snapped her out of her thoughts.

At his comment, she turned to look at him. She had become so habitual of seeing him in suits that when he had stepped out of the elevator wearing a earthy brown, self-embroidered kurta pajama with a sage green waistcoat over it, she was floored. He was looking simply and naturally handsome that had several of her female cousins sighing wistfully. But despite it all, her brain had not failed to notice the irony of their colour combination.

She was sage green, calm and a wind of nature. He was earthy brown, hard as wood that could catch fire. They were in contrast, just like their personalities, yet still getting married.

“If looks were able to kill, I had tested out that theory on you first.” - she said with a sickly smile.

“You don't have to do any efforts. The moment I saw you in this dress getting your hands filled with the mehendi of my name, I was done for.” - he said in a low voice, his eyes looking deep into hers.

She was, once again, arrested in an eye-lock. Her traitor heart doing it's flip-flopping again. She was aware that she was getting drawn to him. That he was quickly stealing her senses. That her heart was slowly slipping from her hands. But she couldn't brush off the fact that he was a criminal. It was easy to fantasize villainic heroes in movies but practically, living with one was not a piece of cake. She had thought about it hard but had failed to understand that how will they spend their lives together when their thoughts didn't match at all ? When she disagreed with everything he did ? When he just wanted to achieve anything he liked by any means without a difference of right or wrong ?

But despite it all, she was losing her balance. Her steady footing was staggering by those intensive eyes. And she was refusing to accept to even herself yet, but those eyes had become her favourite pair in the world.

Her musings were broken when he gently held her right forearm, as the mehendi had almost dried out by now, and looked at the design — mainly at his name written on her palm.