The night had dragged on, a haze of rituals, smiles, and forced politeness. By the time we reached the bedroom, exhaustion tugged at my bones, but my mind was still racing. Riya had shown me the room with a bright smile, and I had done my best to match her energy. But the moment she left, the facade cracked. My new life had officially begun, and the reality of it settled on me like a lead weight.
I sat on the edge of the bed, taking in the room—our room. The bed was massive, draped in opulent fabrics, and the walls were adorned with intricate patterns. Everything about the space screamed wealth, luxury, and power, yet I felt out of place. My anxiety spiked as I reminded myself that I would have to share this space with Abhimaan, the man I had married out of desperation, not love.
The sound of the door locking behind me jolted me from my thoughts. Abhimaan entered, his expression unreadable. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone firm but devoid of warmth.
I watched him as he crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of me. His presence was overwhelming, and for a moment, I felt trapped. He was tall, with an aura of authority that I had tried to ignore throughout the day. Now, in the privacy of our room, it was impossible to disregard.
“You’re not foolish enough to think this is a love match, are you?” he began, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. “This is a business deal, plain and simple. A strategic alliance between our families. We’ll pretend to be the perfect couple in front of the world, but in here, we’re nothing but strangers.”
His words were harsh, cutting through the air like a blade. But what hurt the most wasn’t the reminder that this marriage was a sham—it was the look in his eyes, the underlying assumption that I was just another player in this game, just like my father. He saw me as a gold digger, someone who was here to take advantage of his wealth and status. The thought made my stomach churn.
I stayed silent, my mind reeling from the confrontation. I had known this marriage wasn’t based on love or affection, but to hear him lay it out so coldly, to accuse me of being like my father, was a punch to the gut. I had never been close to my father, never shared his ruthless ambition or his greed. But here I was, being lumped together with him by the man I was now bound to.
Abhimaan gave a small, bitter smile, as if he had said something terribly clever, then turned and walked towards the washroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My heart pounded in my chest, anger and hurt bubbling up inside me. How could he see me as nothing more than a pawn in this game? How could he be so blind?
When he finally emerged, I was already on my feet, adrenaline coursing through me. I couldn’t stay here, not after what he had said. Not after realizing that this was how he truly saw me—as nothing more than a pawn, an extension of my father’s greed.
YOU ARE READING
ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT
RomanceIn the vibrant city of Jaipur, a secret deal was struck between two worlds. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat, the enigmatic King of Rajasthan, controlled the political and criminal underworld with an iron fist. His power was unmatched, his influence unparall...