DARK MARRIAGE 🖤(TWISTED FATE)

24_-__

VOTE TARGET -100

AUTHOR POV-

It was 5am and Irisha woke up, her eyes were puffy from the traumatic events of the previous night - her wedding night. As she looked around at her new surroundings, the reality hit her that she was now a married woman, a wife whose husband didn't want her, seeing her as nothing but a maid.

She saw Aatreya sleeping, his back turned towards her on the bed they now shared. There was no childlike innocence about him in this moment. Instead, he resembled a sleeping devil who would unleash a living hell upon her when he awoke.

After a quick bath, Irisha dressed herself in the heavy saree and jewelry that her mother-in-law had provided for today's muhdikhai ceremony, meant to celebrate and welcome the new bride. As she gazed at her reflection, she saw the image of a beautiful married woman staring back at her. But in reality, there was nothing beautiful about her current situation - being despite by the very man who hated her intensely and had humiliated her on their wedding night.

With the help of Ambika, Irisha made her way downstairs to perform the lord's worshipping rituals that would precede the day's ceremonies. Hours later, Irisha returned to the bedroom she now shared with Aatreya. She had received many gifts and compliments on her appearance from the visiting family members attending the muhdikhai celebration. But the kind words and well-wishes did little to uplift her ,spirits as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Her mind flashed back to earlier that morning when Aatreya had gotten dressed for work in his formal office attire. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he had left for the office, skipping breakfast. The pitying looks from the other family members burned into Irisha's memory as she forced a painful smile across her face, attempting to maintain her composure.

After washing her face and removing the heavy jewelry from the muhdikhai ceremony, Irisha changed into lighter adornments more suited for everyday wear. She made her way downstairs to spend time with her new family members.

It was already 10pm but there was still no sign of Aatreya returning home from the office. From her mother-in-law, Irisha knew her husband's tendencies to work late hours. But after witnessing his cruelty firsthand the previous night, she felt a sense of relief at his continued absence, as much as it pained her.

Despite being given strict instructions as the new daughter-in-law to avoid household duties until she had adjusted, Irisha took the responsibilities of her position seriously. She spent the evening cooking an elaborate spread - roti, dal fry, white rice , chicken curry, chilli gobi, palak paneer, and the sweet kheer for dessert.

The aroma of Irisha's freshly prepared dishes had the family's mouths watering with excitement to sample her cooking skills. Thanks to Ambika, the chatty life of Rathore's who often raved about devouring Irisha's delicious half tiffin from college, they had heard tales of her culinary talents. As they eagerly dug into the flavorful feast, a chorus of compliments rained down on the new bride.

Though everyone invited her to join them, Irisha politely refused, adamant that she would take her first meal as a daughter-in-law alongside her husband. The elders could read the turmoil behind her polite smile, understanding her dilemma. They felt a sense of hope that perhaps Irisha's presence might one day temper Aatreya's notorious anger - a rage that left even family members cowering. At the very least, she could provide the care and concern he so clearly lacked. Irisha's cheeks flushed red at the playful teasing remarks from her new sisters and brothers-in-law about looking after her husband, ignorant of the truth unfolding behind closed doors.

By 11:30pm, Irisha had fallen into an exhausted sleep on the couch, waiting for her husband's return. The sound of the bedroom door slamming open jolted her awake. There stood the source of her current living hell - Aatreya, disheveled with a crumpled shirt and blazer hanging loosely in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, his chiseled jaw clenched tightly, as if one penetrating glare from him could bore holes into her soul. Yet Irisha detected a fleeting glimpse of something else flickering in those cold eyes.