Tied in an unwanted marriage

6. Bhootni Biwi

Reyansh's POV

Ahh another same day. Well maybe not because from today onwards I was a married man.

I opened my eyes and looked for my newly wedded wife beside me.

I hoped to see her even though it was me who told her to not sleep on my bed.

Ahh what am I thinking I should hate her for trying to be pitiful and gain my sympathy.

Yes I believe it was her and her parents plan to make her unconscious so that it will seem that she is pretty much against this marriage.

I hate her from the depth of my heart and I should focus on what to do next. But still I don't know why I have really little sympathy for her.

I always had the habit of going to the balcony before going to my gym. But today I woke up really late. Even though the girl I carried the whole night yesterday was light for me, it still made me tired.

So thought that I would just freshen up my mind and get ready for the office.

I walked towards my balcony but on the way, I spotted a red dupatta. It looked exactly like the one she wore with her wedding lehenga. Curiosity got the better of me, so I moved closer.

To my shock, there she was—my so-called wife—sitting on the floor. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged, and her clothes crumpled.

Aisa laga jaise chudail dekh li jo apne saamne.

(Felt as if I saw a witch in front of me.)

"AAAHH!!" I screamed. She flinched and glared at me with red eyes from dried tears and filled with anger.

"Kyun chilla rahe ho subah-subah? Bhoot dekh liya hai kya koi?" she snapped.
(Why are you shouting early in the morning as if you have seen a ghost?)

"Tum bhootni se kam thode hi ho," I shot back, unable to resist.

(You are no less than a ghost.)

"Oh hello, Mr. jo bhi tumhara naam hai, maine zubaan chalani shuru ki na toh rone baith jaoge," she said, crossing her arms with confidence.

(Oh hello, Mr. whatever your name is, when I start speaking, you'll end up crying.)

I smirked, intrigued by her fiery attitude. "Mai bhi dekhun ki yeh chhoti si ladki mera kya kar sakti hai," I taunted, leaning in closer.

(Let me see what this short girl can do to me.)

"Aee uncle, height pe mat aana samjha," she fired back, her eyes narrowing.
(Hey, mister, don't go on about my height, okay?)

UNCLE! SHE CALLED ME UNCLE!! My jaw dropped. "Uncle? Seriously? I'm not even that old!" I protested, trying to keep my cool.

She rolled her eyes. "Bhaiya, uncle, whatever. Age is just a number," she said with a smirk.

I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the "uncle" thing. "Look," I said, pointing a finger at her, "I am not your bhaiya or uncle or anything, okay?"

She burst out laughing, a melodious sound that somehow managed to be both irritating and infectious. "Chill, dude. Why so serious?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

I couldn't resist smirking. "Oh, so you think it's funny, huh? Well, let me tell you something," I leaned in, lowering my voice for dramatic effect. "This uncle can do unimaginable things to you."

Her eyes widened for a split second before she burst out laughing again. "Unimaginable things? Like what, showing me how to knit a sweater?"

My smirk grew as I pulled her closer, closing the distance between us.