His Wife Of Forcèd Fate ✓

Chapter - 4

Her POV

She finally felt like she was married. She finally felt the weight of her marriage settle upon her shoulders. The reality of her new life hit her hard, a complete different to the dreams she once held. Her world had been turned upside down, pushing her into a storm of uncertainty and turmoil.

Gone were the fantasies of a fairy-tale wedding and a loving partner. Instead, she was faced with the harsh truth of a new life with a man who was still a stranger to her.

She was in her matrimonial house. And after completing all the rituals. She was showed way to her so called "husband" room. The husband who hasn't even tried to talk to her even once let alone looked at her. But she herself hasn't even tried it. She couldn't blame him for anything. And she should not blame him for anything. He has already done more than enough for her, according to everyone. She was a wife in name only, a stranger to the man who shared this room yet remained as distant as the stars that adorned the night sky outside.

What awaited her on the other side of the door was not just a room but a sign of her compromised fate, a symbol of the sacrifices.

She knew she should feel grateful for the roof over her head, for the hope of security this marriage promised. Yet, every part of her mind and body rebelled against the act she was forced to maintain. She yearned for authenticity, for a connection that goes beyond duty and obligation-a love that was freely given, not forced.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she tried to take in the room. It was supposed to be their shared space as a couple.

She looked around, taking in the details with a mix of curiosity and caution. It wasn't a fancy room, and it didn't exactly radiate warmth, but it was where she was meant to be.

His room felt pretty sad, like it had soaked up all the sadness around it. The colors were dull, lacking any brightness. The lighting was dim, not really helping to lighten the mood. The furniture was basic, but it looked kind of neglected.

She walked over to the window and glanced outside. The curtains were drawn back, allowing a soft glow of sunlight to filter in. The room felt strange, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Her attention shifted to the bed. It was neatly made, the covers smooth and untouched. In her mind, she pictured the nights ahead, imagining finding comfort there after a long day.

The photographs on the wall caught her eye next, frozen moments that held untold stories. A slight smile formed as she looked at the people in the pictures, wondering about their lives and the memories tied to this room. She then turned her gaze to the desk, cluttered with papers and a single pen. She could almost imagine someone sitting there, lost in their thoughts and responsibilities.

Time seemed to drag on in that room, as if even the days felt heavy with the sadness. The whole place felt like it was longing for something happier, something that could lift the heavy weight of sadness that hung over everything.

It was a space without stories, frozen in time, offering no glimpse into its occupant's personality.

Taking a breath, she moved to a chair by the desk. As she sat down, the wood creaked slightly under her weight. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the lives that had unfolded within these walls.

But her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening. She quickly opened her eyes, finding him standing in the doorway. His presence caught her off guard, and she felt a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. She hadn't expected him to show up so soon and see her trying to make herself at home.

Their eyes met briefly, and she sensed a distance in his gaze. It was as if he saw through her attempt to understand the room and dismissed her efforts as insignificant. She quickly straightened up, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks. The hope for a shared understanding was replaced by his deliberate rudeness.

The sudden sound of his voice shattered the heavy silence, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What are you doing in here?" His words were sharp, cutting through the air with a chilly edge.

Startled, she faced him, her heart pounding in her chest. "They... they left me here," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

His brows furrowed in confusion, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his features. "They left you here?" he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief.

She nodded, her throat tightening with unease. "Yes, your relatives and your mother... they said it's tradition for the newlywed to stay in the husband's room after the rituals," she explained, her words hesitant as she tried to make sense of the situation herself and trying to understand her own words.

For a moment, he seemed to contemplate his words, his gaze drifting away as if lost in thought. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension, before he finally spoke again, his voice colder than before.

"Well, that's just great," he muttered under his breath, the bitterness palpable in his tone.

Her heart sank at his dismissive response, a wave of disappointment washing over her.

Before she could gather her thoughts to respond, he looked at her with a cold gaze, his words slicing through the air like a knife.

"Don't bother trying to settle in," he stated flatly, his voice devoid of warmth. "This is my wife's room, not yours." "You're just a guest here, nothing more."

His blunt dismissal lingered in the air, a reminder of his unwillingness to share even a hint of connection. Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing his departure.

She stood there, his words like a sharp sting that cut deeper than she had expected. The realization that he had no intention of making things easier for her hit her heavily. With a sigh, she understood that the path ahead was going to be far tougher than she had anticipated.

But amidst the hurt and uncertainty, a small flame of determination flickered within her. She wouldn't give up so easily. If he wanted to maintain distance, she would respect that, but she wouldn't let it define her existence in this marriage.

Gathering her belongings quietly, she moved towards the couch, her steps measured and deliberate. She would stay here tonight, not as his wife, but as someone who deserved at least the basic courtesy of a place to rest after a long day of rituals and expectations.

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